16. Ethan
CHAPTER 16
Ethan
My feet slap the sidewalk as my thighs propel me forward. I’m usually very active, hitting the gym at least every other day, but I’ve put that on hold for the past five days to take care of Bridget. Although I’ve been able to sneak out for a run every morning before she wakes up. From what I can tell, she’s normally an early riser, but she hasn’t been since I’ve been staying with her. Most nights, I can hear her from my bed on the couch. She groans every time she rolls over or gets up, and from what it sounds like, she’s up every couple of hours. Taking her pain meds would probably help her get more rest, but I understand her desire to avoid them.
Part of me worries she’s too hard on herself. I know she wants to be self-sufficient as quickly as possible, but if she pushes too hard too soon, she’ll regret it later.
I know how hard it is for her to allow me into her space, and after her confession the other night, I’m more determined to break through her walls and show her how good we could be together. It’s obvious she’s attracted to me, but I want more than just a physical relationship with her, and helping her recover from surgery has been the perfect opportunity to get to know her better. I like everything about her. Her laugh. Her snark. Her drive. We’re both focused on our careers, have similar values, laugh at the same jokes, and I admire how she’s unapologetically gone after what she’s wanted. She defines success on her terms, and it’s hot as fuck. I’ve always been attracted to strong women, and Bridget is a fucking queen.
Rounding the corner near her building, I spot Bridget leaving her apartment.
“Bridget!” I call, and as she turns toward me, I take in her beautiful face and the gentle arch of her eyebrows as they furrow slightly on her forehead.
“I wondered where you went so early.”
“Were you hoping I’d left?” I flash her a lopsided grin, the one that makes her blush.
“I figured you didn’t since your bag was still in the living room.”
“You’re up early. Going for a walk already?”
“Yeah, I wanted to get a head start.” Her eyes refuse to meet mine.
Sensing her need to be alone, I start my cool-down stretches as she shifts awkwardly on her feet. “Go ahead without me,” I tell her. “I’m going to grab a shower and get your coffee ready for you.”
“Oh… um… okay.” A small smirk crosses her lips as she turns and walks away from me, her perfect ass swaying with each pop of her hips.
I head inside and get to work preparing her a doppio. I’m determined to get her to relax today.
____________
I can’t control this overwhelming desire to know everything about Bridget, but she only hands bits of herself out in pieces. It’s up to me to collect them, put them together, and make her whole. It’s clear that no one’s ever tried to do this, to truly understand her. I’m getting pieces she hasn’t shared with anyone—not Becka, and probably not even herself.
She can try to keep me out, but I’m slowly chipping away at her walls. If she’s never been shown what a healthy relationship looks like, it’ll take longer to get through to her, but I’m undeterred.
After Bridget returned from her walk, I gave her some space, running errands to pick up ingredients for this evening’s meal.
We are now sitting in the living room while the TV plays in the background after we ate and I cleaned up the kitchen. I sensed she needed some time to herself today, so I’ve backed off my nursing efforts and have been letting her try to get around on her own. The less she needs my help, the more panic claws my throat at the thought of my time ending here. I hope I’ve done enough to convince her to keep seeing me, only nothing is easy with Bridget. But anything easy isn’t worth having, is it? I like her challenge. I love it.
She shifts in place on the loveseat, brushing a lock of her gorgeous chestnut hair behind her ear. She’s wearing it in loose curls today. It’s the first time she’s styled her hair since her surgery, and I take it as a good sign that she’s starting to feel more like herself again.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m bored. There’s nothing to watch on here. I feel like I’m going crazy being so cooped up.”
“We can play truth or dare?”
“We’re not playing truth or dare.”
“Scared you’ll lose?”
She sighs loudly. “Fine. Who starts?”
“Hold up, we need to go over the rules first.”
“It’s truth or dare, you pick one and do it. What do we need to go over?”
“Sure, that’s the basic version. For every dare you successfully complete, you get one point. For every truth you tell, you get two points. First to ten points wins.”
“Why aren’t dares worth more?”
“Because sharing truths seems to be more difficult for you.”
“What if there’s a dare I can’t complete?”
“Then you have to tell a truth. You get one pass that you can use on a truth with no consequences. Everything else you must answer or complete a dare instead.”
“What do I get if I win?”
“What do you want?” I cringe internally because I’m worried that her answer will involve me leaving or pushing me away.
“If I win, you have to go back to sleeping at your place.”
There it is. She’s sitting on the loveseat across from me, a stern look on her face, letting me know that she means business. “Fine. If I win, you let me stay for the whole six weeks,” I counter.
She crosses her arms in challenge, an invisible wall already going up. “Truth or dare.”
“Truth.”
“Why are you here?”
“Are you seriously wasting your truth on that question?” I ask incredulously. How does she not know the answer to that by now?
“Scared?”
“Not in the slightest. I’m an open book when it comes to you, but I’m hurt you even had to ask that. I’m here because I like you.”
“You just like helping people, and I’m your latest project.”
This is new. Deflecting with humor is easy to handle, but this hurt is harder to hurdle. “Helping is in my nature. It gives me a sense of purpose. I may not be good at a lot of things, but I can be helpful. With my sisters, my parents.”
“Your Nonna,” she adds hesitantly.
“Yeah. I needed to help her, to feel like I was doing everything in my power to repay her for everything she’d given me. But it wasn’t enough. When she passed a little over a year ago, it broke me. That’s why Alyx dragged me out the night we met. He was tired of me bumming him out.”
“Or he was worried about you,” she suggests.
“Maybe. But honestly, I offered to help you because a selfish part of me wanted a do-over. That maybe this time I could help someone and the outcome would be better.”
“You need to be needed,” she says knowingly.
“Trust me, I know you don’t need me, but I promise, you’re not a project to me, and I hope that one day you’ll want more than just my help. Truth or dare?” I tack on the question quickly, not giving her a chance to throw up more walls.
She hesitates for a moment, chewing on her lip before she looks at me and declares, “Dare.”
Several ideas pop in my head before I land on something that will allow me to touch her. “Sit on my lap for the rest of the game.”
She rolls her eyes and stands, crossing to me before sitting on my legs like a child would sit on Santa’s lap. Nothing is intimate about the gesture, so I clarify. “Nope, you have to straddle me, one leg on either side of my thighs.
“That’s not what you said. You said to sit on your lap, and I am. You didn’t say how to sit.”
Well, she has me there.
“This is already uncomfortable. I thought your rugby thighs would be more comfortable than this,” she bemoans, shifting her ass to get comfortable.
“Rugby thighs?” I laugh, confused. “I mean, I don’t skip leg day, if that’s what you’re implying.”
She doesn’t clarify the rugby thighs comment and instead redirects us back to the game. “Your turn, truth or dare?”
“Dare,” I say confidently.
“I dare you to unlock your phone and let me go through it for five minutes.”
I pull out my phone and hand it to her. “The passcode is ‘lizzyb’ spelled out in numbers, and you can spend as much time as you want going through it,” I tell her. I have nothing to hide.
“Starting to think you might have a favorite sister,” she jokes.
“Nah, she uses my phone a lot, and it’s easy for her to remember my code when it’s her name.”
Her fingers fly furiously across the screen, opening up my photos and scrolling through them.
“Wow, that’s a lot of food pics. I figured you’d have more nudes in here.”
Huffing out a laugh, I lean closer to her as I watch her scroll through pic after pic. “What can I say, I’m a chef. Food porn is my favorite.”
“Are these all meals you’ve cooked?”
“Not all of them. I like seeing how other chefs plate dishes. Sometimes it gives me inspiration for new recipes or creative ways to plate my food.”
“Are these your sisters?”
I look over her shoulder before confirming. “Yup.” She keeps scrolling through pictures of me and my sisters before I spot a photo I don’t want her to see. “Actually, I changed my mind, I’ll take that now.” I reach for the phone, but she’s faster, shifting her weight and turning away from me as she clutches the phone against her chest and bends over to protect it from my reach.
“Now I have to see what you’re trying to hide from me.”
My hands wrap around her as I try to grab for the phone from both sides.
“That tickles!” My hands wiggle their way closer to her chest, reaching for the phone. “If you make me fall off your lap, I still get the points,” she declares between fits of laughter. Her pain pills must have kicked in, and I’m careful not to jostle her too much.
With one hand, she lifts the phone up and away from me as she scrolls one-handed to the exact photo I didn’t want her to see. “Who is this lovely lady? One of your sisters?”
I drop my arms and lean back against the couch, draping my hands over my face. “I think you know exactly who that is.”
Her soft laughter wraps around my chest, squeezing it tight. “This is amazing.”
I groan. “I forgot to delete those.”
“Do you wear makeup often? You look very pretty in this,” she declares, holding up my phone for me to see.
“I was babysitting my four youngest sisters, and they wanted to see who could do the best makeup. To make it fair, they decided that they would all use me as their canvas.” I gesture to the picture she’s holding up on the screen. “That one was Erin’s. She’s nine.”
“Wait, there’s more?” She keeps scrolling through as she peruses all the looks my sisters gave me. “Sweet baby Jesus, this one is really good. The contouring is fantastic.”
I glance at the screen to see which look she’s referencing, “That one was Ella’s. The whole thing was her idea. She’s obsessed with makeup and hair. She’s thinking of cosmetology school, but I’m not sure my dad is going to go for that. He wants her to go to college.”
“I hope he changes his mind. She has real talent. I’d let her do my makeup.” Studying my photos a little longer, she leans into me and asks, “Any other photos you don’t want me to see?”
“Nope.”
“Good, now let’s look at your browser history.”
I look at her unblinking, not the least bit fazed. “Have at it. Just don’t close out any open tabs. I don’t want to lose anything.”
“Damn, there are like a hundred open tabs in here. Don’t you organize this shit? You know you can make folders and categorize all this, don’t you?” She scrolls through my open tabs before getting bored and opening a new one as she types in “pornhu” before I stop her.
“Whoa, hellcat, don’t type any more letters, please. I told you Lizzy uses my phone, remember?”
“I figured a certain website would come up if I started typing that, but it didn’t.”
‘Yeah, I don’t look at that on my phone.”
“But you do look at it?”
“You’ll have to use your next truth on that one,” I taunt with a wink.
Her eyebrows furrow briefly before she hands me back my phone. I can’t stand to see the hurt look on her face, and it’s clear that my teasing jab didn’t land like I intended.
I cover her hand in mine, holding it briefly, as I take the phone from her. “I do watch it from time to time, but not on my phone. I have a computer the girls don’t have access to, so I use that.”
“Oh. Why did you tell me that?”
“I saw the look on your face when I didn’t offer it up initially, and I didn’t want to give you a reason to doubt me. I was trying to be playful. Sorry if it didn’t come across that way.”
“It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Anything else you want to know about my extracurriculars?”
She hesitates briefly before asking, “What kind do you watch?”
“I’m not picky, usually whatever is trending. I’m extremely visual, so just seeing it does it for me.”
Her cheeks flush as a pink hue creeps up her neck. If she keeps shifting on my lap, I’m going to have a problem. “Might want to stop all that wiggling unless you want me to get hard, sweetheart.”
She shoves my chest. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Your turn, gorgeous, truth or dare?”
“Truth.” She spits the word like venom. Deciding to start out her first truth with an easy one, I ask, “Do you prefer books or movies?”
A genuine smile crosses her lips, and I’ve clearly touched on a topic she’s passionate about. “Books will always be better than movies. In books, you get all the inner dialogue. You get to know everything that character thinks and feels without relying on a mediocre actor only known for their looks to convey all that subtext. And you get to decide what all the places look like. And those can change the second time you read it. In movies, you only get to rely on the words that are said and any body language used for subtext.”
“Not everyone picks up on nonverbal cues.”
“Exactly.” She’s animated as she continues speaking, her ass wiggling on my legs as her hands gesture wildly making her point. “There’s no guessing how a character feels when you’re in their point of view, their inner monologue shares everything. And some books give you multiple points of view so you can relive the same scene through each character’s viewpoint. But when that scene is translated onto film, it’s as though you’re piecing it together at the same time.”
“And different people read body language differently, so what comes across as annoyed to one person may read as angry to someone else.”
“Yeah…” she starts, raising an eyebrow at me. Her eyes bore holes into me, as if seeing me for the first time. “It’s like you’re in my head.”
I lift the back of my hand to stroke her thigh, my other hand fisting at my side, eager to grab hold of her, but I restrain myself.
“I don’t like it,” she mutters.
My hand stills on her leg. “You don’t like me touching you or that I’m in your head?”
“All of it,” she spits. I can see the tension creeping into her muscles as her legs clench on my lap. “It’s like you know what I’m thinking before I verbalize it.”
“Maybe your body language gives you away? Or maybe I’m good at reading you.”
Her head turns, and we lock eyes, distrust written all over her features. “My sister,” I supply as the crease between her brows softens and a breath escapes her lips.
“Oh. I’m an asshole.”
“You’re really not. I’ve had a lot of practice helping Lizzy. She also likes to read, and I think it’s for the very reason you mentioned. The books she seems to gravitate toward have characters sharing all their innermost thoughts on the page, so she understands what they’re dealing with. She doesn’t have to pick up on social cues or body language when it’s all laid out on the page. Plus, with a book, if she gets overwhelmed, she can put it down. Sometimes movies overstimulate her sensory issues even after I’ve turned it off.”
“I’m not used to people paying close enough attention to me to be able to read me the way you do. That kind of attention makes me uncomfortable.”
“Why does it make you uncomfortable? Are you telling me that no one you’ve dated has ever paid attention to you?”
“That’s another question. I already answered your truth.”
She shifts on my lap. I’d give anything to dig deeper into her past. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’d put up with shitty men, but it’s clear she has. It’s unlikely that I’ll make any progress on that front tonight, so I decide to let it go for now.
My hands are balled up into fists at my side, itching to touch her but needing her to give me the go-ahead after the way she shut down. “Is this okay?” I question after I decide to rub my hand up along her spine tentatively.
She takes a deep breath and holds it as I trail my fingers down her spine in light languid strokes. In the past, my touch has seemed to calm her, and I want her grounded to me if we are going to make any progress. “Yeah, it feels good,” she whispers as her head drops to her chest, her eyes hidden from me. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” I’m willing to give her every piece of me in exchange for whatever she’ll give me.
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
“I’ve had a few, a couple in high school, and then I dated a girl during culinary school. That lasted about six months before she got tired of my schedule cockblocking us.”
“Charming.”
“What can I say? I was twenty, on my own in a foreign country, and horny. There was a lot of passion, but unfortunately most of it was outside of the bedroom. She couldn’t handle my long hours. When I wasn’t in the kitchen or classes, I was babysitting Alyx’s ass in a club. We roomed together in a tiny studio apartment. I was on the top bunk, which made alone time difficult. Alyx didn’t have a hard time, though. I swear, that man hooked up with anything with two legs.”
“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”
“Alyx is a lover of all types—men, women, all sizes, ages, and colors. I’ve walked in on him in all kinds of compromising positions with multiple partners, often at the same time. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we didn’t share a studio apartment with a bunk bed.” I roll my eyes. “Okay, enough about Alyx’s exploits, truth or dare?”
She blows out a breath. “Truth.”
“What are three things you would look for in a partner?”
“I’m not looking for a partner. I told you, I don’t do relationships.”
“You don’t get points for that.”
“Bullshit. I answered the question.”
“The question wasn’t what you’d look for in a partner if you wanted a relationship. It’s what you would look for in a partner.”
Her eyes lock with mine in a standoff. Crossing my arms over my chest, I give her a slight nod with my chin to let her know that I’m not backing down.
“Fine.” Her fingers fidget in her lap as she picks at her nails, carefully weighing out her answer before she continues. “Trust is huge for me. Nothing else matters if I don’t have that.”
“Got it. Trust,” I parrot back to her. Clearly, there’s something or someone in her past that has created trust issues for her.
“To be honest, I don’t have enough experience to really tell you what else I’d look for in a partner. I could tell you more about what I look for in a fuck,” she deflects as she continues picking at her nails.
“Nice try, hellcat. If you were going to let someone into your life, besides trust, what else would they need to give you for you to feel safe? To feel cherished?”
She picks up her thigh, readjusting her weight as she blows out a breath. “I, uh… I think it would be nice to have someone who likes spending quality time with me, just being present when we’re together. I didn’t get a lot of that growing up.”
A small smile curves my lips as I think about the amount of quality time we’ve spent together over the past week. “What else?” I coax.
“Maybe someone who’s optimistic. I tend to let my anxiety take over, and someone encouraging could make me laugh and get out of my head.”
Her eyes stay trained on her lap, so I reach out and gently tilt her face toward mine. “You act as though spending time with you is a chore.”
“Isn’t it? I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. No siblings. I have Becka, and I push even her away at times. There aren’t a lot of people clamoring to spend time with me.”
“I am.” I cup her cheek, forcing her to hold my gaze. “I’m desperate to spend time with you, as much as you’ll let me. I know you feel this energy between us, and I know it’s scary, but I want to be here, getting to know you.”
I have to physically force myself to stop speaking before I scare her off, but hearing her basically describe me in what she wants in a partner makes me want to scream from the hilltops about how good we could be together if she would stop pushing me away.
For once, her eyes remain locked on mine, my hand still on her cheek as she asks, “Truth or dare, pup?”
“You know the answer. Truth. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“You’ve talked about your sisters as though you’re their primary caretaker. Are you not close to your parents?”
“That’s a little complicated.”
“We’ve got time. It’s not like you’re letting me leave this apartment any time soon.”
“You aren’t a prisoner, you’re recovering from surgery. And I get the feeling that you’ll do whatever you want, despite what your doctor, nurse, or I might say.”
“True.”
“So if you’re letting me stay here and play nurse with you, it’s your choice.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice in the first days after. I tried to get rid of you, but you kept taking care of me.”
“And it’s a good thing I did. It’s okay to let people in and accept help.”
She shifts again on my lap. “Are you uncomfortable? You could get up,” I offer.
“And lose my points? Nice try.”
“Straddling me might be more comfortable,” I hint with a wink.
“Just answer my question. Are you close to your parents?”
“My bio mom and I are not close. To be honest, I don’t know where she lives now or even if she’s still alive. I haven’t spoken to her in years. She and my dad never married, and they had a pretty rocky relationship after she became addicted to opiates. My dad tried to get her help, but he had a hard time juggling being a single parent and sole income provider. My paternal grandparents weren’t supportive of their relationship and cut us out of their lives. I never heard anything about my grandparents on her side. I was three when she left. I have some memories of her, but most of what I know is from stories my dad has shared about her.”
“What kind of mother walks away from her own child?”
“The kind that’s too selfish to put someone else’s needs over her own.” The words feel bitter coming out of my mouth as I ball up my free hand, pushing it into the fabric of the couch. Bridget must sense my anger, and she shifts in my lap, straddling me. The movement puts her face almost at eye level, and she rests her hands on my shoulders, her eyes locked on mine, letting me know it’s okay to continue. “I love my biological mother as a person. I wish her well and hope she finds happiness, but it isn’t with me and I’m okay with that. It wasn’t until my dad married my stepmom, Ashley, that I truly understood what motherly love was. She was born to be a mom. She’s the kindest person I know. She tamed my dad and grounded him in a way no one else ever could.”
“But you’re close to your dad?”
“Again, that’s a bit complicated. My parents were young when they had me, and I grew up feeling like a burden. I don’t have many memories from that time, but they all involved yelling. It’s probably where my need to help came from. If I was helpful enough, maybe they’d stop fighting, maybe my dad would be around more, maybe my mom wouldn’t have left.”
“Oh, Ethan, that’s not on you. You were just a kid.”
“I know, but I didn’t understand that back then. My dad barely finished high school and went to trade school with me in tow most of the time. And when he started working, he picked up as many jobs as he could to pay the bills, and I ended up staying with neighbors. I grew up thinking that adults always left.” My voice cracks as my throat clogs with emotion. Fuck, I’m not about to cry in front of her. Not because I’m embarrassed, I have no problem expressing my emotions, including crying. My concern is that she’ll assume it’s a tactic to manipulate her.
Bridget doesn’t say anything, just moves her hands from my shoulders to encircle my neck as she leans in to hug me, her chest flush against mine as our breathing synchronizes. Her sweet scent surrounds me, calms me.
“I think I’ve been angry at him for most of my life. He works hard to provide for our family, and I get that now, but as a kid, I wanted to spend time with him. Nothing I did was ever helpful enough until my sisters were born. Then I poured myself into helping my stepmom raise them.”
“You surrounded yourself with people who needed you.”
“Yeah, I guess I did. I never really felt like my dad needed me, but my stepmom and sisters needed me, so I focused my attention there. Dad was more involved with all my sisters too, so I felt like… like…” I struggle to find the right words before Bridget speaks.
“Like you had to prove yourself to earn his love?”
“Yeah, now who’s in whose head?”
She lets out a huff of a laugh as she leans back and looks in my eyes, her arms still wrapped around my neck. “I know a lot about having to prove myself.”
“No one should have to earn love from another person,” I say, careful to hold her gaze so she understands that regardless of the men she’s been with, I’m someone who will love her freely should she choose to accept it. “You alone are worthy of love and respect. There’s nothing that you’d have to do to earn that from me.”
“I… uh…” She drops her head and arms, crossing them over her body. “Just friends,” she mutters under her breath.
“To be clear, I’m not saying I’m in love with you.” Yet , I think to myself because fuck, I could see myself falling in love with her. My hand lifts her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I believe that if you love someone—a friend, sibling, parent, whomever—you should tell that person you love them and often. You never know who hears it enough, and everyone should know they are loved by the people in their lives.”
“That’s beautiful, but not everyone can put themselves out there and share their emotions so easily,” she says bitterly.
“Then I’ll do it for those who can’t. I’d rather people know that they matter to someone. That they matter to me. It can make a difference for some. I’ve seen how shitty people can be, and I never want my people to think that they don’t matter in this world.” I think about all the shitty things I’ve overheard people call Lizzy when they thought I was out of earshot, and I’d die before I let any of those words take root in her head.
I can feel the tension in her body as she takes in my words. Not wanting her to feel any more uncomfortable, I ask, “Truth or dare?”
“Well, if I’m going to catch up to you, I’m going to have to start sharing some more truths, as much as it pains me.”
“Tell me about a relationship you’ve had and what you would have done differently.”
Still straddling my lap, she takes a deep breath and clearly thinks through what she wants to share with me. “I dated this guy in college named Brad. He was nice, but I always felt like he was with me for my study guides.”
“Study guides?”
“I’m extremely detail-oriented, and I organized all my notes into these study guides that I used to prepare for tests, quizzes, midterms, and finals. It kind of became the thing I was known for, and I had people asking me to sell them at one point. Brad and I weren’t together long, but we never really went out on dates. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. We’d stay in, watch movies, order takeout. We were poor college kids, so it didn’t raise any red flags. We had a few classes together, so we’d study a lot. I’d share my notes with him, but I didn’t share my study guides. They were important to me. I wasn’t going to just give them away.”
“Shit, did he take your study guides?”
“He tried. It was the week before finals, and I couldn’t sleep. Brad was spending the night, and I rolled over and couldn’t find him. When I walked out to the living room, I caught him taking photos with a digital camera.”
“Of the study guides?”
“Yup. Is it sad that I walked out there hoping he was taking pictures of my underwear or something equally creepy? Like that would’ve been better than the way he went behind my back and stole the one thing I hadn’t given him.”
“Please tell me you kicked Brad in the balls.” I try to ease the tension as her words feel like they hold a double meaning. I hope that the only thing he took from her was her study guides.
“I confronted the motherfucker and made him hand over his camera. He argued with me before caving and giving it to me. I destroyed the SD card and dumped his ass so fast. I should’ve known better. We started dating before midterms, and this incident took place before finals. He was just using me. And that was the last time I let a man take advantage of me.”
“What’s an SD card?” I ask, hoping to ease the tension.
“Fuck off,” she says teasingly.
“Why do I get the feeling that Brad’s not the only one that used you like that?”
“Fuck, you’re nosy. I already answered your truth and your follow-up questions,” she gripes as she shifts nervously in her seat. “I feel like you owe me extra points.”
“No extra points,” I say. “But that’s shitty that he did that to you.”
She lets out a resounding sigh. “It is what it is.”
“I think it’s important to be straightforward and lay everything out. What you see is what you get with me. I’m someone who wears their heart on their sleeve. You’ll always know where you stand with me, Bridget.”
“Good to know, friend .”
The way she emphasizes the word “friend” is like a punch in the gut. I’ve been inside this woman—there’s no way in hell I’m going to stay in this friend zone.
“So, Ethan, truth or dare?”
Doing the math in my head, I know we’re tied at seven points, so I opt for truth, knowing I can end it with a dare and pull out a victory.
“If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be? And don’t be that guy who says they’d eat pussy.”
“I’d happily feast on your sweet cunt every day if you’d let me, but since I can’t say that, I’d say apples. There are so many different varieties, and they go well in so many dishes. They can be sweet or tart, and they’re incredibly healthy. I’ve actually been playing around with a twist on your favorite dish that incorporates apples.”
“The tortellini with brown butter?”
“Yep, except it’s ravioli, and I add apples to the cheese. It’s savory and sweet, but I still use the brown butter and sage.”
“Fuck, I’d like to try that.”
“I’ll keep experimenting with the recipe here. I’m still trying to find the perfect cheese and protein to pair with it.” Although she’s looking straight ahead, I see the corner of her lips lift in a small smile and I know what I’ll be spending the next week doing in her kitchen. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” she declares confidently, and I love that she’s getting more comfortable sharing her truths with me.
“Where in the world would you want to go on vacation if money and time off were not factors?”
“Anywhere. I have so much PTO saved up that I’ve never used. This is the longest I’ve gone without working. But honestly, I don’t care where I go. Europe. South America. Somewhere with books and beaches. And good coffee. Where I can go to relax and unplug, and I don’t have to be someone for everyone else. I can just be me.”
“I love that.” My mind wanders with all the places I could take her and enjoy quality time with her.
“Truth or dare? And make it good because we’re tied nine to nine.”
I flash her my dimple, smirking. “In that case, I’ll do a dare if I only need one point to win.” Her blue eyes blink rapidly as her mind races with ideas. “Make it challenging, because if I win, you know what I want.”
“I dare you to make me come without touching me,” she says, her arms propped on her knees, her legs still straddling my thighs.
“Easy.” I sit up so I can get closer to her. The sweet scent of vanilla and berries hits me again, and it has my dick twitching to life like Pavlov’s dog comes running for food at the sound of a bell.
“You really think you can, pup?” she questions as she rubs her palms up and down her thighs. My mind races with the possibilities of what we can do with the extra time we’ll have with my extended stay if I win.
“I saw how wet you got from my words alone. I’m pretty sure you have a praise kink, probably from all the people-pleasing you do. When someone finally praises you for being the good girl you are, it makes you wet, doesn’t it?”
One of her slender eyebrows rises. “Oh, are you starting now? It’s going to take more than that.”
Challenge accepted. “I know how much you like numbers. Should I start counting all the things I like about you?”
“That’s not necessary, and frankly, it’s insulting. You think merely counting in front of me is going to give me an actual orgasm?” She huffs, crossing her arms under her breasts, the movement pushing them up, making them look tantalizing as my cock jumps in my joggers.
“You know what I like the most about you?”
“This should be good. My tits?”
“They’re great tits, but that’s not it,” I praise as my eyes rake over them. “I like how responsive you are. The little noises you make. How you get so fucking wet. I felt it that night we spent together. Christ, I’ll never forget that night as long as I live. No other experience will ever compare to what we shared. You made me come so fucking hard in your shower that I almost blacked out. Your cunt was gripping me so tight as you rode me, your perfect ass slapping against my stomach. I’ve never seen a more delicious sight.”
“Should I take that as a compliment since you’re a chef?”
Trailing my hand down my chest, I trace the outline of my pecs and abs as her eyes track the movement, her tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip. The definition of my cock is clearly visible through my pants, and I catch her looking at it. Pushing up from leaning back on the couch, I move my face as close to hers as I can get, my breath hot against her ear. “We both know I’m the only man to make you squirt. Twice.”
For once, she has nothing to say, no witty retort. My erection presses against my joggers as I glide my palm over it, running it up the seam before I grab the waistband of my pants with one hand and lean back, tugging it down, careful to keep her balanced on my legs. My cock springs free, stretching up toward my stomach as her eyes follow the movement.
“That’s cheating.” She gets distracted as her gaze fixes on my cock, and she licks her lips.
I wrap my hand around the shaft and fist it, pumping up and down as I tilt my head back against the couch. “You said I couldn’t touch you. You didn’t say I couldn’t touch myself,” I assert between pumps as my breathing picks up. “Fuck, Bridget, I’m imagining this is your tight cunt squeezing me as you ride my length, your gorgeous tits bouncing in my face with every thrust.”
Her legs squeeze mine as she shifts on my lap.
“I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours and smear that perfect lipstick. You take me so well, your hot mouth sucking as you try to swallow my length.” Holding out my hand to her mouth, I order her, “Spit.”
“What? You can’t be s–”
“I’m fucking serious. If I can’t have that smart mouth or that perfect cunt, then my hand will have to do for now. Spit.”
It’s clear no one’s ever asked her to do this before, and her first attempt is underwhelming.
“I’m going to need more than that, sweetheart. You see how big this dick is. I want to cover it in you. Give me more.” Her second attempt is more productive, and I use her spit to wet my dick as I give it hard, slow pumps. “Fuck, it feels so good being coated in you,” I rasp out between strokes. “I’m going to pretend my hand is your tight little pussy. You squeeze me so good.”
Bridget shifts on my lap until her pussy is resting on one of my thighs as she sits at a slight angle. I continue fucking my hand, pretending it’s her tight cunt as her hips start making small movements against me.
“That’s it, be a good girl and rub that pretty pussy all over my leg. Make a mess. Fuck. I’d do anything to taste your sweet cunt again,” I plead as my hand moves faster, pumping my length.
Her hair cascades over her shoulders, framing her beautiful face as she continues making small movements with her hips over my thigh while biting on her lower lip. “I want to suck that lip into my mouth and kiss the fuck out of you.”
“No one’s ever kissed me the way you did that night. I couldn’t think about anything but what you were doing to me.”
Stunned by her confession, I pause my strokes, holding on to the base of my cock. “Eyes on me, Bridget.”
Her arms are still crossed, and her head is tilted down. Her eyes are closed as she slowly shakes her head.
“Look at me,” I demand.
I’m not sure if it’s my words or my tone, but her head snaps up, those gorgeous blue eyes fixed on mine.
“That’s my good little hellcat. No one’s ever kissed me with the passion you did that night. What you felt wasn’t one-sided.” I continue stroking. “And no one’s ever made me this hard. See this?” I watch her gaze fall to where I’m fisting my cock. “This is what you do to me. You make me so goddamn desperate for you. I want you so fucking bad that I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Scale any wall you need me to, just to get close to you.”
As her eyelashes flutter and her brow furrows, she continues seeking friction on my leg. Her movements are subtle, and I’m unsure if she’s in pain from her surgery or if she’s trying to fight the urge to come.
“You feel so fucking good, I wish it was you squeezing my cock, I… fuuuck.” A jolt of pleasure surges through me as she continues staring in my eyes. I slow my movement down, determined not to be the first to come.
“Oh, fuck. I can’t… Ethan… fuck, I’m coming… I’m… Ahhh,” she moans, trying to maintain eye contact with me before dropping her head back, a guttural moan escaping her throat. Her hands grab my shoulders as she steadies herself, her hips stilling their movements. I squeeze my shaft, tugging it hard as I follow behind her as jets of warm cum spill onto my hand and down my shaft.
“I’ve never done anything like that before. Why was that so hot?” The vulnerability I see in her face is overwhelming, and I reach up to grab her jaw with my free hand. I press our foreheads together as our breaths mingle. I want to kiss her so bad, and as I tilt my head to take her lips, she speaks as she pulls back.
“I’ll go get a towel to clean you up.”
Still holding her jaw in my hand, I grab my shirt I’d taken off earlier and wipe myself clean. “There, I’m clean,” I tell her with a bit of a bite. For every step forward we take, she seems to push me two steps back. The last time I made her come, she did everything in her power to get rid of me before the next morning, and I’ll be damned if I let her do that again. I see her eyes flick to the shirt. “I’ll do a load of laundry soon, don’t worry.”
“That’s not what I…” Her words trail off, and I wonder if I’ve been too harsh with my tone.
“I’m sorry, it felt like you were pushing me away, and like I said, I wear my heart on my sleeve.”
“You actually made me come without touching me,” she breathes, her words barely audible, and her response is not what I was expecting.
“I did, but you rubbing on my thigh might’ve helped.”
A small smile crosses her lips, and I run my thumb over it. She winces briefly, and my thumb stills.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, I think my pain meds are wearing off, and I may have overdone it a little with all the gyrating. But I’m a big girl. Nothing I can’t handle.” She stands from my lap, her words seeming to hold another meaning.
Before I can overthink my actions, my hand clasps her wrist. “Please don’t pull away, please don’t shut me out. Let me be here for you.”
“Okay.” Her voice is small, and her eyes won’t meet mine, but it’s a start.
“I’ll grab your ibuprofen. Why don’t you head back to your bedroom and lie down?”
“Does this mean you’re going to stay the whole six weeks?”
“I did complete the dare, didn’t I?”
“Good” is all she says as she turns down the hallway toward her bedroom. I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face.