Chapter Twenty-One
When people saw Ethan on the news, they came to help in the search. Though Hazel suspected most were really there to check him out. Kevin was finally found hiding behind a lawnmower in a shed halfway up the street. Cheers filled the air as Ethan carried the cat home like the returning hero, and as Hazel took Kevin inside, Ethan stayed outside talking to his fans. She watched through the window as he took selfie after selfie and hugged complete strangers until the last person had waved goodbye.
She stood in her kitchen clutching Kevin to her chest. His tiny soft paws were around her neck as he purred and purred. He’d only ever hung onto her like that once before, after a traumatic teeth-cleaning at the vet. Kevin was a stress hugger.
Ethan leaned against the cooktop, Harry by his feet, wolfing down his dinner.
‘Kevin’s hugging you,’ Ethan said.
‘I can’t believe it. It’s like we’re in the upside-down world where Kevin is nice.’
‘I’ve always thought he was nice.’ He smirked, and she rolled her eyes.
‘Maybe his adventure in the outside world made him see that I’m not so bad after all,’ she said.
‘It’s pretty clear that you’re not so bad,’ Ethan said, eyes twinkling.
He was soaked through. His grey T-shirt was covered in mud, clinging to his chest. His hair was slicked back from the rain, and his eyes shone like sapphires. And he was in her kitchen, casually leaning against the cooktop, his long fingers curving around the edge of the counter, his forearms corded with muscle. The whole scene was doing wild things to her. She was sizzling like sauce in a pan.
She pulled her mind from Ethan’s smouldering form and focused on Kevin again.
‘I should probably feed you,’ she said to her cat. ‘Except I don’t want to put you down.’
Ethan pulled his phone from his pocket. ‘I’ll take a photo. In case he reverts to his old self.’
She put her cheek as close to Kevin’s as she dared and smiled.
‘Will you send it to me?’ At least then she’d have evidence that, occasionally, her cat liked her. ‘Right, Kev. Dinner?’ He yowled, loud and long. ‘That sounds like a yes to me.’
She reluctantly put him down. He curled around her legs twice, then rushed over to Ethan, rubbing against him before running to the plate of biscuits Hazel placed on the floor.
‘I guess I should feed us too,’ she said to Ethan. ‘Unless…’ She said the words reluctantly, worried his answer would be yes. ‘Unless you’d prefer to go home.’
He shook his head, slow and deliberate. ‘Nope. I don’t want to go home.’
She breathed out a mix of relief and nerves. ‘Good, because I don’t want you to go home either.’
They locked eyes as they stood motionless, swathed in damp and clinging clothes, their breathing loud.
Ethan’s gaze dipped to her mouth, his tongue wetting his lips. Hazel willed herself to speak, to say something, anything, to fill the air simmering between them.
‘I could cook pasta,’ she said, hearing a slight tremor in her voice. ‘Oh. Carbs.’
His tongue ran over his lips again, drawing her eyes to his mouth. She took a tiny step forward.
‘Or I could cook scrambled eggs?’
She wanted to skate her fingertips across his chin, down his jaw and over the smooth skin of his neck. She inched a little closer.
‘Or an omelette.’
All she could think of was kissing those lips, pressing her hips to his until she felt his hardness against her.
‘With ham and cheese,’ she added, her breathing shallow.
She had to stop talking about cooking while he was looking at her like that – as if she was the meal.
He nodded slowly, his neon blue eyes glued to her, his tongue flicking over his lips again.
That was the moment she knew she was going to do it. She quickly closed the remaining distance between them and crashed her mouth to his.
It wasn’t a tentative kiss. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, either. It was cataclysmic. It was molten lava coursing through her veins, Vesuvius erupting, catching them both by surprise and freezing them in the moment, stopping time. It was messy, chaotic and scorching hot, as if their smothered desire had finally been released and was now hungrily consuming everything in its path.
Her fingers traced the length of his spine, stroking his neck before tangling in his wet hair and tugging him closer, making him grunt. She hung onto him tightly as little gasps and moans escaped her lips. Then, as quickly as she’d pulled him in, she pushed away, as the realisation of what she was doing came crashing down on her.
She staggered backwards and stared at him. His eyes were blazing circles filled with black discs.
‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No.’ His voice was just a rasp.
Her pounding heart stopped dead in her chest, a vice squeezing the blood from her body.
‘I know. It was… it was…’ She took a gulp of air. ‘It was stupid, neither of us needs this.’
‘No,’ he said again, but this time his voice was desperate. ‘That’s not what I meant. I meant I don’t want you to be sorry for kissing me.’ He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. ‘Because I want you to kiss me. And I do need this.’ Then he silenced her worries with his mouth.
The second kiss was gentle. It was all soft and deep, tender passion and delicate tongues. It was sensory overload. The firmness of his chest pressing against her breasts, the hard planes of his muscles flexing, the lightness of his touch and his feathery strokes across her shoulder blades. It was a perfect, trance-inducing kiss. Her brain stopped braining, the hum of pleasure so loud it blocked any rational thought. That moment was only about Ethan. About his lips and hands, about his arms, holding her ever so tightly. She had no idea how long they’d been standing there, hungrily kissing, their wet clothes drying with the heat of their bodies. When Ethan’s stomach grumbled loudly, they peeled apart and stared down at it. They both laughed.
‘I was supposed to feed you,’ she said.
‘Believe me, I’m not complaining.’
‘Your stomach is. I should get something started.’
‘I could say that you’ve already started something…’ One of his eyebrows lifted.
‘Except you wouldn’t be that cheesy,’ she said.
‘I would definitely be that cheesy.’
‘You’re right, you would. Do you want to shower before we eat?’
He drew her back to him. ‘Now we’re talking.’
‘I meant just you. My shower’s tiny. No room for two. Barely room for one.’ He pouted, and she kissed him. ‘I’ll leave some dry clothes outside the door,’ she said. ‘I should have something that will fit you. This is where tall girls come in handy.’
‘Sharing clothes?’ He leaned in closer and whispered into her ear, his hot breath tickling. ‘Next time we get together, we’ll have to try not to get so wet.’
She swallowed hard.
Ethan slid behind Hazel just as she was cracking eggs into a bowl. He touched his lips to the back of her neck, savouring her warmth against his mouth. She shivered against him, then turned, her gaze dropping to his chest. Her lips squeezing together to stifle a laugh. He was wearing the clothes she’d left for him: a pale pink T-shirt with the word Yummy emblazoned across the chest, teamed with a tiny pair of shorts, smothered in happy kawaii tacos that covered very little of him. Her eyes hovered over the taco pants stretched across his crotch, revealing more than even his wet boardshorts had. She blinked, mouth slack.
‘What?’ he asked, knowing exactly what.
‘I knew pink would suit you,’ she said.
‘I just thought you were making a statement.’ Ethan looked down, his finger travelling across the word ‘Yummy’. ‘And I always think pink washes me out,’ he said. ‘I usually go for blue, because that sets off my eyes, or white for the muscle pop. Grey if I’m comfortable and…’ He stopped and looked up through his long, dark lashes, smirking. Her lips were pressed even tighter together and her cheeks lifted in a smothered laugh. He shrugged.
‘Don’t laugh. I’m paid to think of these things.’ He grabbed the hem of her tank top and dragged her towards him, running a knuckle along the soft skin of her waist, goosebumps rising to his touch. She stared at him, her eyebrows gathering.
‘I have to cook,’ she said, her smothered laugh quickly becoming a breathy gasp.
‘Can I help?’ He leaned in and kissed the tiny cupcake on her shoulder.
‘Mm-hm.’ She moaned softly, her lids fluttering, her body resting long and warm against his length.
Ethan’s heart thudded. When she’d stopped the first kiss, he should have agreed it was a mistake and left it at that. One messy, accidental kiss after a really bad day – they could have dealt with that and moved on. But the moment her lips touched his, he couldn’t have stopped himself even if he’d wanted to. And he didn’t want to. He burned with the need to kiss her, had done ever since her gloss-slicked lips had wrapped around that straw the day they met.
‘I think we need some music,’ she said, stepping back and fiddling with her phone. Dance beats thrummed through the air, filling the room.
The sound vibrated through him, adding to the pounding in his chest. He cocked his head, his eyes locked to hers, and began to move his shoulders.
Hazel’s brows lifted. ‘Are you dancing?’
‘Right now I’m swaying.’ He swayed closer, until his hips pressed against hers.
He smiled as Hazel’s breath left her in a tiny sigh as they rocked back and forth. Then her lips curved into a wicked grin, and his hand was in her hand as she dragged him into the lounge room.
They danced around the coffee table, arms in the air, jumping, wiggling, clapping – Harry eyeing them warily from the couch, as if they’d both gone mad. It felt so good just letting go, Ethan had to stop himself doubling over with laughter.
‘What?’ Hazel called over the music.
‘Nothing. I just like dancing.’ He grabbed her hand, pulled her close and spun them both around the room.
Something tickled in his chest. A little pop of happiness. Not the kind that came from getting a good review, or winning an award, or landing a big movie. The kind that made his heart boom. The kind he hadn’t noticed he was missing. He’d had no idea how much he needed the release. To laugh and dance and kiss. Hazel helped him forget about everything else. Even if it was just for one night.
Tomorrow he could worry about the shitstorm he’d be facing, and overthink his career. Tomorrow he could eat right, and train right, and plan for a move he didn’t want to make. Tomorrow he could contemplate how stupid tonight was. But tonight, he was going to do something he never did: he was going to live in the moment.