Chapter Twenty
By the time the Friday night performance was over and the cast and crew were loaded into buses for the ride back to the hotel, Ethan’s mood was black.
Sitting in the back of the bus, he leaned against the plush velvet seat and scrubbed a hand over his face. He kept remembering Val in the diamonds, seeing the predatory gleam in Jason Stern’s eyes as he fastened the necklace around her slender throat.
Stern was on the hunt. Val didn’t seem to realize that, but Ethan did. Stern had plans for Val that included her warming his bed. She’d said she wasn’t interested. Ethan believed her. Val wasn’t the kind of woman to sleep with a married man.
But Stern was clearly on the prowl, which made Ethan wonder if the man was looking for a replacement for his last lover—possibly the woman who’d been murdered in Seattle.
Along with her job at La Belle, Delilah Larsen had represented David Klein Jewelers. Had Stern given her the diamonds missing from her safe?
And what if he had?
Bruce Hoover was convinced Delilah’s lover wasn’t involved in her death. Even if the man was Stern, the way he was eyeing Val made it clear he wasn’t in mourning. If he’d murdered Delilah, jealousy likely wasn’t the motive.
And the diamonds?
Ethan had checked the financials of Paul Boudreau, along with all the La Belle and David Klein top execs. A half million in diamonds—much less at cost to Stern—wouldn’t mean squat to him.
Still, Ethan made a mental note to find out whether Delilah had been Jason Stern’s mistress.
He glanced around the interior of the bus, saw Val sitting next to Megan O’Brien. With a killer still on the loose, he’d be spending another night on Val’s sofa.
Inwardly, he groaned. Since the day he’d seen her scrubbing a wet dog at the Perfect Pup, he’d wanted her. Aside from her physical beauty, he’d come to respect her, admire the way she’d conquered her dismal youth to make something of herself.
After watching her help Heather and Pete, he was drawn to her compassion. Little by little, he was becoming completely obsessed.
It had never happened to him before, not this deep, primitive feeling that somehow she belonged to him. Not this burning need to drag her off somewhere and ravage her beautiful body until neither of them could move.
Sweet Jesus, he was in trouble.
Last night had been hell. Half the night, he’d been hard for her, aching to stride through the bedroom door and have her.
The rest of the night he’d worried about the murders, wondered if the copycat would strike again, if he’d go after one of the models instead of a stripper or some other, more easily accessible prey.
Wondering if the first guy would crawl out of the woodwork and follow them, try to claim another victim.
As the bus pulled up in front of the Ritz, he glanced back at Val.
He’d be protecting her again tonight, suffering more endless hours on her sofa.
No way could he touch her. Rules were rules, and he had a job to do.
He’d lost control and taken advantage of her the last time. It wasn’t going to happen again.
Not unless Val came to him.
His jaw clenched. If she did, and she wanted him half as much as he wanted her, he wouldn’t give a fat rat’s ass about the frigging rules.
The La Belle after-party in celebration of the successful Dallas show was in full swing, the music from a five-piece orchestra filling the dance floor with models, TV personalities, top brass, and invited guests.
Beneath a crystal chandelier suspended from the molded ceilings in the Ritz-Carlton’s elegant ballroom, Val stood at one of the high round tables, each draped in a gold, floor-length cloth that matched the opulent decor.
Still wearing her black skinny jeans and killer high heels, shoes that were, ironically, now actually killing her feet, she took a sip of champagne from the half-empty flute that dangled from her fingers.
Having managed to slip off by herself, she tried to pretend she wasn’t exhausted.
That the insanity of the evening hadn’t set her nerves on the ragged edge.
She glanced around, searching the room for Ethan, saw him against the wall, legs splayed, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with his hawk-eyed, never-miss-a-thing, intense dark brown stare.
For an instant, his gaze locked with hers and a tremor of heat slid through her.
He was armed, she knew, beneath the black blazer he wore with his T-shirt and jeans.
Tall and imposing, drawing flirty glances from a dozen beautiful women, he was the sexiest man in the ballroom.
Or anywhere else, as far as she was concerned.
Sensual heat slid through her, making her skin feel tight and her body overly warm. She needed to get out of there before her flushed cheeks and the way her gaze kept searching him out gave her away.
Setting her champagne flute down on the table, she started walking toward the door. She didn’t bother telling Ethan she was leaving. The way he’d been watching her, she was certain he knew.
She felt him behind her as she walked out of the ballroom, his long strides easily keeping pace with hers. Val kept walking, heading for the bank of elevators in the lobby and the safety of her suite.
Which wasn’t safe in the least, because Ethan would be spending the night there.
“Running away?” he asked as he moved up beside her.
She sighed. “I suppose in a way I am.”
“From me or just work?”
She stopped and turned. “I don’t think I could get away from you even if I tried. Could I?”
“No.”
He didn’t say more as they rode the elevator up to her floor. Ethan checked the suite, pronounced it clear, and left her. By the time he returned a few minutes later, using the passkey he carried, she had stripped out of her clothes and was just stepping into the shower.
Setting the temperature lower than normal in the hope of cooling her fevered skin, she ducked beneath the soothing spray and tried not to imagine him moving around in the living room. Beneath the water, her body felt hot and tight, her nipples stiff and achy.
By the time she turned off the water, her heart was beating too fast, her nerves more taut than when she’d come up to the suite. She pulled off the towel she’d wrapped around her hair, letting the heavy curls fall free, dried herself and reached for the white terry robe on the bathroom door.
Her hand paused inches away. Next to the thick hotel robe was the apricot satin she’d been wearing the morning Ethan had kissed her.
Every time she looked at it, she remembered that blazing kiss and thought how much she wanted him to do it again.
She heard him in the other room, making a place for himself on the sofa. Her hands shook as she reached for the apricot satin robe and slid it on, lifted her hair out of the way, then pulled the robe back into place and tied the sash.
With a calming breath, she walked out of the bathroom and continued on through the bedroom.
She knew if she stopped, her courage would falter.
When she reached the door and pulled it open, she saw him, his back to her as he prepared himself for bed.
He’d stripped off his T-shirt, leaving him in just his black jeans, the snap undone, his feet bare.
She’d noticed more than once the way his jeans cupped his sex, drawing her attention there. Now she saw how perfectly they outlined his muscular behind.
When he turned to face her, she could barely breathe. “Ethan . . .” she managed to force out. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but seeing her in the satin robe, his dark eyes turned nearly black.
She imagined him rejecting her, telling her to go back into the bedroom, reminding her that they couldn’t break the rules. But for her there was no turning back.
She walked toward him, paused just a few feet away. “I know you want me.” There was no denying it. She could see it in his eyes. “I just . . . I need you to know that I want you, too.”
His jaw knotted. He still didn’t move.
“I thought that if . . . if—”
His low growl cut her off. In two long strides, he was there, hauling her into his arms, his mouth crashing down over hers. Her fingers dug into his powerful shoulders and she kissed him back, parted her lips and felt the hot sweep of his tongue.
A little sob escaped. She kissed him the way she had wanted to kiss him for days, the way she had never kissed a man before, kissed him with all the emotions roiling inside her.
She felt his hands sliding into her hair, cupping the back of her head to hold her in place as he ravaged her mouth, plundered her lips again and again, kissed her until neither of them could breathe.
He bent his head and found her breasts, suckled her through the slick satin fabric, tongued her nipple, and she moaned. Heat and need tore through her, desire so hot and thick it was almost painful.
“Ethan,” she whispered as he lifted her into his arms and started striding toward the bedroom. She closed her eyes, enjoying his strength, the hard muscles flexing as he moved.
He set her on her feet beside the bed, cupped her face in his hands, tilted her head back and kissed her. A hot, wet, thorough kiss that set her mind to spinning and the blood rocketing through her veins.
“Jesus, I want you. I’ve never felt this kind of need before.”
She understood. That same need scorched like lightning through her blood. And yet when he reached for her robe, a moment of uncertainty slipped through her. She stepped back before he could strip the robe away and expose her completely.
“What is it?” The words came out harsh. The muscles across his shoulders vibrated with tension.
“There’s something. It’s nothing, really, just that . . .”
“Tell me.”
“I know you’re kind of old-fashioned.” She moistened her lips, growing more nervous. She wanted this to be perfect. Wanted to be perfect for Ethan. “La Belle has a rule . . . I mean, we model very skimpy lingerie.”
“Go on,” he said, impatience in his voice.
“It’s just . . . well, it’s company policy that all the girls . . . that we have to . . . we have to wax.”
The implication hung in the air. When she took off the robe she’d be bare. Everywhere.
Ethan’s eyes closed and a muscle flexed in his jaw. “Jesus, God, you’re killing me.”
“I just . . . I didn’t know how you’d feel about—”
He gripped her shoulders and his mouth crushed down over hers. A long, thorough kiss and he reached for her robe, pulled it open, and slid it off her shoulders, leaving her completely naked. Hot brown eyes traveled slowly down her body, taking in every bare inch of her.
“I’m going to kiss you all over,” he said gruffly. “I’m going to eat you alive.” Then he was lifting her into his arms, striding over to the bed and settling her on the mattress.
He took a moment to shed his jeans, pull a condom out of his pocket, and toss it on the bedside table. Foil gleamed in the moonlight seeping in through the curtains as he joined her in bed and started kissing her again, ravaging her mouth as he had before, making her restless and hot.
Settling himself between her legs, he shifted his attention to her breasts, suckling and tasting until she squirmed beneath him. He moved lower, his tongue circling her navel, sliding across the flat plane below.
She whimpered at the feel of his lips against the inside of her thigh, nipping and kissing, moaned as he moved to her sex.
Keeping his word, he tasted, teased, devoured.
Her hands fisted in the sheet as he drove her up to the peak.
In minutes she reached an earth-shattering climax, a journey into pleasure that seemed to have no end.
It wasn’t enough.
Her hands slid into his short dark hair. “I need . . . I need more, Ethan. I need to feel you inside me. Please, Ethan.”
His eyes looked feral as he came up over her, his erection big and hard. His body felt solid and warm between her parted legs. Ethan kissed her, long and deep, eased himself inside with exquisite care. She loved the fullness, the way his powerful body pressed her into the mattress.
It wasn’t enough.
She wanted to absorb him, mesh with him until they were just one being. She wanted to know him in the very marrow of her bones.
She arched beneath him, taking him deeper as he began to move. “I need more, Ethan,” she whispered, bolder words than she had ever spoken. “Please.”
He seemed to swell inside her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She realized he was holding himself back, fighting to stay in control. She didn’t want him in control. She wanted him as wild for her as she was for him. “You won’t hurt me. I want you, Ethan, please.”
An animal growl tore from his throat. With fierce, powerful thrusts, he drove into her, moving faster, deeper, harder, giving her what she wanted. Driving her to a second shattering climax. She cried out his name, dug her nails into the muscles across his shoulders, and just hung on.
Ethan didn’t stop. “Again,” he demanded as she started spiraling down.
“I can’t.”
“You will,” he vowed, driving deeper, claiming her in some way, and the words shot her over the edge.
Pleasure tore through her. She hadn’t known it could be this good, this intense. For several seconds the world seemed to tilt, to spin on its axis. She clung to his neck and felt his body go rigid, every muscle vibrating as he reached his own release.
Time slowed and she began to float down, her mind in a soft, sensuous haze.
Ethan finally lifted himself away and left the bed to dispose of his condom. Seconds later, she heard him rummaging around in his bag in the living room, then he padded naked back to bed, a beautiful male animal outlined in the faint sliver of moon illuminating the darkness.
Her eyes widened when she saw the flash of foil, saw the stack of protection he set on the nightstand.
“I’m done with the sofa. Rules or no rules, from now on I’m in your bed.”
She swallowed. She hadn’t considered tomorrow. Just the burning need she’d had to assuage. She felt dazed and well-used. And more womanly than ever before.
Unease filtered through her. She had given him some part of herself she hadn’t known existed. He’d given her pleasure unlike anything she’d experienced before. It should have been enough. It should have settled her, soothed the desperate yearning. And yet she wanted more.
The knowledge was frightening. Aside from their shared physical attraction, she didn’t fit into his life. Ethan didn’t fit into hers.
How much pain would she feel when it ended? Since the night Bobby had died, Val had never been more afraid.