Chapter 7
7
Pia
I sit on the kitchen island, pretending to scroll through my phone, pretending not to feel Ethan’s tension blistering the atmosphere in rolling waves.
He hasn’t said much since he ordered me away from his neighbor like I was a stolen diamond he wanted to hoard all to himself.
But I know what I saw.
The heat in his eyes.
The fury barely covered by self-control.
Sure, I was a little nervous at finding that strange man on my floor, and the look in his eyes when I stepped off the elevator. Like I was some shiny new toy he wanted to play with. And not in a good way.
But seeing Ethan’s reaction…for the first time…I feel like I might actually have a little power.
Something dangerous clicks into place in my chest.
Something that started this afternoon when he took me shopping, a pastime he clearly hated. When I deliberately touched risqué little things to see his reaction. He fed my every curiosity.
Convinced me I wasn’t in this fantasy all by myself.
But every now and then I feel him draw back.
Which was, even before we arrived home I made up my mind.
If he wants to keep pretending I’m just his intern, just the niece of his future named partner that he’s helping out, well?—
He’s going to lose. I’m going to make him touch me. Break first.
I’ll wear something soft tomorrow. Something sexy. Maybe ask him what kind of wine goes best with inexperience.
I’m going to make him teach me all the things I’ve never done.
Maybe I’ll test the waters tonight. Set the groundwork.
Pauvre Ethan , I think with a wicked little smile.
You never stood a chance.
* * *
Ethan
After dinner she chooses ice cream for dessert, I make myself an espresso.
By mutual agreement, we drift back into the living room.
I turn on the TV but can’t concentrate on anything. I feel her gaze on me as I channel-surf.
“You were so… angry. Earlier,” she mutters.
My fingers tighten on the remote. “For good reason. Stay away from Oswald. Guys like that only want one thing,” I snarl, the image of Oswald leering at Pia awakening fresh rage and white-hot jealousy.
She frowns. “Oh. Just one thing?”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. “Probably not. Hell, forget probably. Most definitely more than one thing.” Half a dozen to start off with. Then another two dozen more.
“Things like what?”
“Christ, use your imagination, Pia. You can’t be that innocent.” I toss back my espresso, hoping the heat will singe my own imagination.
“So… will he spank my butt and call me a cum-slut?”
My coffee spews out of my mouth. “Jesus! Who the hell said that to you?”
She plucks out a tissue from the stand on the coffee table and holds it out to me, blinking innocently. “One of the girls at school showed me a video.”
“Porn?” I croak.
Her eyes drop to the bowl holding ice cream she’s yet to touch. “ Oui ,” she confesses with a blush.
“Those things are unrealistic. They’re a performance meant to trigger a… certain reaction.”
“Oh. I see.”
I wipe myself down, thankful my T-shirt is black even though I need to change because I’m not a fucking slob.
But I’m not ready to abandon this conversation. Yet.
From the corner of my eye, I see her twirling her spoon through the confectionery. Scoop up a dollop and wrap her glorious lips around it.
Blood surges into my cock.
I cross my legs but it’s only a matter of time before that move becomes redundant. Especially if I don’t get off the subject.
I manage to. Barely.
She finishes her ice cream and I walk her to her condo.
There’s no Oswald lurking, and I make a point to tell Stanley to make sure he’s not let up here again.
At her door, she glances up at me, dimpling adorably, even though her eyes search mine in a way that makes my neck hot. “Sleep tight. Any plans for tomorrow?”
She shakes her head and my breath oozes out with relief. “I thought I’d just chill here for the day.”
I nod. “I need to catch up on work, but I’ll drop off some breakfast around nine. That okay?”
“Of course. And… thanks for today, Ethan,” she murmurs, and I want to roar and beat my chest with pure male satisfaction.
“My pleasure.”
She smiles again, then steps back and shuts the door.
I return to my condo—which feels hollow and lonely all of a sudden. And I don’t pause as I stride down my hallway, tugging off my T-shirt, stepping out of my joggers even before I’m fully inside my bedroom.
And taking hold of my cock to jack off to the dirty images Pia Hyde once again planted in my brain.
Sunday passes with very little incident.
I deliver her breakfast.
She joins me for a late lunch and refuses dinner. I send her home with leftovers in case she changes her mind.
It’s our most benign interaction yet, and it gives me hope that maybe this insane attraction has run its course before things got out of hand.