Chapter Eight
ETHAN
I don’t turn the lights on when we get inside.
The apartment is warm from the heat kicking on earlier, the quiet settling around us like a held breath. City glow spills in through the windows, pale and silver against the dark. Liz stands just inside the door.
She looks at me, then away. Is she nervous? Curious? I hope for the latter.
“Do you want some water?” I ask. “Tea?”
She shakes her head. “I’m okay.”
I nod, walking into the room to give her space and turning on a table lamp. The yellow light makes the space a little warmer. I’m not much for decorating, prefer function over form. More than one person has called my living space cold.
“This is the part where I say,” I add gently, “you can change your mind at any point.”
Her shoulders ease a fraction. “I know,” she says, stepping into the living room.
She notices the tree in the corner, white lights only. No ornaments. No spectacle. Just enough to acknowledge the season without demanding joy. “You don’t hate Christmas as much as you pretend,” she says quietly, sitting down on my sofa.
I smile. “Selective participation.”
She laughs, and I love the husky sound.
I sit on the edge of the coffee table across from her, not crowding. The distance hums with awareness.
“I told you I had another gift,” I say.
Her eyes flicker. “You did.”
“This one’s… different.” I take a breath. “And before I show you, I want to explain.”
She nods, chin lifting. Trusting me to land this.
“I overheard you,” I say carefully. “Last week. In the cafeteria. You and Sara.” The words land exactly how I expected them to.
Her face drains of color. “Oh my god,” she whispers, burying her face in her hands.
“I wasn’t trying to listen,” I continue quickly, holding her wrists but not pulling her hands away. “But I heard my name and that made me stop. And then I couldn’t make myself walk away.”
She covers her face with her hands. “I can’t believe you know about the dream.”
“I’m glad I found out,” I breathe. “If I hadn’t, I would never have asked you to come home with me tonight. And you did nothing wrong.”
She peeks at me between her fingers, eyes wide and mortified. “I dreamed about my boss.”
“You dreamed about a man,” I correct gently. “Who happens to be your boss.”
She lets out a strangled laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
“It’s the truth. And I’m very honored to star in your dream.”
She groans and rubs her face deeper into her palms. I gently pull her hands away. Her face is glowing red from embarrassment. “And there’s still the gift I want to give you.”
“What is it?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.
I reach for the gift bag I put on the table before I left for the party, hoping that she’d be with me in this moment. I hand it to her. “This,” I simply say.
She opens the bag slowly.
Her breath catches.
She looks up at me, eyes searching. “Ethan…”
“It’s for stress relief,” I say evenly, hoping like hell I haven’t misjudged everything. When I bought the present, it seemed like a great idea. Now I’m not so sure.
Silence stretches. Her throat works as she swallows. She sets the bag down carefully, like it’s something precious…or explosive. Finally she looks up at me. “What did you think?”
Fuck. I did misjudge. I bite my lip, frantically searching for a way to not fuck this up further. “It’s not a joke,” I say. “I’m not making fun of you.”
“I know. You wouldn’t do that.” She watches me steadily. “But what did you think when you heard that I’d used a vibrator to get myself off while thinking about you?”
I huff out a breath. I should say something smart here. Something insightful. But my brain is not presently engaged because her words have painted a picture in my mind that is so tempting, words are hard to shape. “It turned me on,” I whisper hoarsely. “That’s why I bought you another one.”
“But I already have one at home.” Her gorgeous eyes shine in the low light as she watches me intently.
I swallow, forcing moisture into my mouth. My dick is rock hard. “Yes, but this one is for here.”
“For here,” she repeats. “Why would I need one here?”
“For us to play with together.”
Her tongue darts out, tracing her bottom lip, mesmerizing me. She leans forward, placing her forehead against my chest. I can feel her breathing even out, like she’s borrowing my calm.
I desperately want to kiss her. But instead, I wrap my arms around her.
She melts into me, tension draining from her frame in real time.
“This is what I wanted to give you,” I say quietly. “A place to land.”
“And a place to relive stress,” she says.
“Yes,” I answer. “I would love for us to relieve stress together.”
“With the vibrator.”
“Sometimes with the vibrator. But often with the…human model.”
She laughs softly, then tilts her face up. Our mouths hover close, breath mingling.
“Ethan,” she whispers.
“Yes.” I’m about to bust out of my pants, and it’s very hard to keep breathing.
“I would love that,” she says.
I brush my thumb along her jaw. “I’m so fucking glad.” I finally claim her lips, desperately pulling her closer.
She kisses me back.
I force myself to go slow, because I’m very aware of the significance of crossing this line. There’s no going back after this.
Her lips are warm, soft, a little tentative at first, but then she exhales. Her fingers curl into the front of my shirt, and she moans as I deepen the kiss.
I’m acutely aware of everything. The warmth of her body, the smooth feel of the fabric of her gorgeous dress, the way her breathing syncs with mine, like we were always meant to be together.
I reach up and undo her hairpins. She sighs as I dig my hands into her glorious locks. I can’t get enough of her lips, but I force myself to stop and lean back.
Her green eyes are dark now, reflective, curious. Auburn hair loose around her shoulders, catching the low light. “You’re so beautiful.”
“It’s the makeup.”
I shake my head. “No. The first time I saw you, that’s what I thought.”
“You thought I was beautiful?” She scrunches up her face, clearly not believing me.
“My exact thoughts were, ‘fuck, that gorgeous woman is going to mess with my mind and my libido.’”
She throws back her head and laughs.
“I wasn’t wrong.” I catch her hand, brushing my thumb along her knuckles.
She exhales loudly. “If this is another dream, I don’t want to wake up.”
I lean in, pressing a kiss to her temple, then her cheek, unhurried. Each one is deliberate, like I’m mapping her, memorizing. “It’s not a dream. This is very real,” I breathe into her ear.
Her hand slips to my arm, fingers flexing. Not grabbing. Just there.
“Ethan,” she whispers.
“Yes.”
She looks at me, eyes shining. “I want you. Take me to bed.”
Fucking yes. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I stand and throw her over my shoulder, securing her with one arm across her thighs while the other caresses the silky fabric across her ass.
“I can walk,” she laughingly protests.
I swat her ass and grunt in reply like a caveman because once again, my brain has lost the ability to shape words.
It would take too long for her to walk.
And I’ve been patient for a very long time, waiting for this exact moment to come true.