3. Ethan
Chapter 3
Ethan
D enver gets on her hands and knees, shining her phone torch and swiping her palm across the terracotta tiles. She sits back and groans, shaking her hands in what looks like panic.
When she spots me, she screams. “Jesus Christ! What are you doing ?”
What am I doing? Skinny dipping and spying, apparently. I should ignore her and go inside, but I’m curious, and lying alone in a dark room isn’t very tempting right now.
“Relaxing. What are you doing?”
She frowns at me. “I lost my ring.”
“Your wedding ring?” I raise my eyebrows, hoping she picks up on the edge in my voice.
“No, jackass, my other ring,” she says, running her hands along the patio floor again. “The ring my mom gave me, my favorite ring.”
I disregard the fact that she’s just called me a jackass for no reason but only because she seems genuinely upset.
“Where did you last have it?” I ask.
“If I knew that, it wouldn’t be lost. Oh my—” She takes a deep, irritated breath. “Just leave me alone.”
What the hell is this woman’s problem? Why is she so rude all the goddamn time? Fine, she can look for the ring herself. I don’t care. Not my problem.
I look away and then, of course, spot the ring at the bottom of the pool. It glitters up at me, the pool lights illuminating the small silver band, and I curse my conscience because I can’t let her keep panicking. I duck under the water, pick up the ring, and swim over to her, hoping she hasn’t noticed that I’m completely fucking naked.
“Here.”
She’s still on her hands and knees, and her shoulders relax when she spots what I’m holding. She takes the ring, our fingers brushing. “Thank you.”
“It’s fine,” I say, eyebrows still low from annoyance, and swim back to the other side of the pool.
“Oh my god, are you naked?”
The back of my neck heats, and I cover myself the best I can. “I thought I was alone.”
“Well, you’re not ,” she says. “This is a shared pool!”
Don’t I fucking know it.
A scratching sound interrupts the brewing argument, and Denver spins to face her room.
“Wesson, no !”
A golden retriever skids through the open patio door, nails sliding against the tiles, and splashes into the pool. He paddles over to me happily, licking my face.
I can barely contain my smile. “You have a dog ?”
“Yes, and he’s licking a naked man,” Denver whimpers, her hands on her cheeks.
I scrunch my face up, still unable to move my hands as Wesson’s tongue laps at my chin. Eventually, the dog stops, opting to swim the length of the pool instead.
“You’re a bad boy!” Denver whispers angrily.
“Me?” I ask, grinning.
Denver points at me. “You’re a pervert.”
A laugh bubbles up my throat. “I am not!”
Denver crouches slightly and extends her hand. “Wesson, come here before the bad man gets you.”
While she’s distracted, I climb out of the pool and quickly pull on my underwear. I run my fingers through my hair and watch Wesson ignore her, the dog happily still doing laps.
“You’re not a great dog owner.”
Denver glares at me over her shoulder. “I can see your dick through your underwear.”
I step behind the divider to hide said dick, leaning the top of my body out. “Be firm with him. You’re the one in charge.”
“Stop mansplaining my dog to me!”
“You have to lower your voice.”
“Shut up .”
“Wesson, here, now!” I deepen my voice, quipping the words and catching the dog’s attention. Wesson paddles over and climbs out of the pool.
Denver straightens up and stares at me, a soft flush climbing her throat.
My lips twitch into a smirk. “Are you blushing?”
She scoffs and brushes nothing off her dress. “You wish, pervert.”
“You liked my sexy dog voice.”
“Oh, grow up.” Wesson shakes and covers her with water. She blinks, staring at her dress that’s now half-plastered to her skin. She sighs. “Wesson, go inside, please.”
The dog wiggles happily through the doors, and I’m sad to see him go.
“So…” I keep my eyes fixed on her face, not the damp white material clinging to her body. “About this morning?—”
“Let’s not even discuss that disaster.”
I try not to appear too offended. “Are you saying you didn’t have fun?”
She rolls her eyes. “Sure. Best minute of my life.”
I scowl. “It was not one minute!”
“I know. I rounded up to make you feel better.” She sticks her tongue out at me, and I skirt around the divider and take her arm, pulling her to me.
“We can try again if you’re so disappointed,” I say, wondering where the hell this confidence is coming from. “Or would your husband be jealous?”
She lifts her chin in silent challenge. Fuck, she’s pretty. More than pretty. My heart is hammering from her closeness.
“Not likely,” she says. “I’m not married anymore.”
That’s good news. I’m not itching to fight a guy strong enough to marry a woman like her.
“You should let go of me.” Her gaze drops to the hand I have on her arm. “Or I’ll knee you in that big dick of yours.”
A grin cracks my face. “I can’t decide which name I like best, Bad Boy or Big Dick ?”
Her bottom lip twitches as if she’s biting the inside of it. “Maybe Can’t Take a Hint would suit you better?”
“Or my actual name,” I suggest. “I’m Ethan, by the way.”
“I’d prefer to call you Big Dick.”
I back her against the patio window, my hands on either side of her head. “Me too.”
The gray of her eyes is closer to tarnished silver as she shifts her gaze to my crotch. She tilts her head.
“Huh. Maybe the light in the gym was an optical illusion.”
I laugh. “You really don’t want to admit you want to kiss me, do you?”
“Or maybe I just don’t want to kiss you,” she says, ducking under my arm and moving away from me. “You’re not that great.”
“Got you wet.”
“So does a well-placed shower head,” she says, throwing a smile over her shoulder and heading inside.
I’m desperate to follow her because, as annoying as she is, she captivates me. I stand in the open doorway, and she crosses her arms, shifting her weight onto one hip, smirking.
“Dying to come in?” she purrs.
“Only because I like the dog.”
She considers me for a moment, then closes the gap between us. Each step feels calculated, like she has a plan of attack she’s dying to execute, and I’m a willing sacrifice. She tucks her finger into the waistband of my underwear, and my throat dries. Blood rushes to my cock, and I’m rock hard almost instantly, my dick straining against my black boxers.
“Not an optical illusion,” she whispers, pushing herself onto her tiptoes and running her tongue across her bottom lip. “That’s a relief.”
Fuck.
I seize the back of her neck and kiss her. Denver presses herself into me, and I can only hope I last a hell of a lot longer than the first time.
I pick her up and walk us further into her room, lying her on the couch. She smells like cocoa butter and tastes sweet, and her lips stay fixed to mine in a permanent, passionate kiss.
She sits up, pushing me into a sitting position so she can straddle me. Her dress gathers at her hips, and she grinds against my hardness, the heat of her core rubbing against my cock, and a moan spills from my lips. Jesus, I’m close to letting this woman do whatever the fuck she wants to me as long as she never stops.
“I need you to fuck me like you did this morning,” she says, and small whimper leaving her throat as she rubs her clit against me.
Fuck . No arguments here.
Her mouth is soft as she kisses across my chest and lower. She pushes my knees apart, sitting between them, licking her lips as she grips my underwear to tug it down. And for some ungodly, stupid, moronic reason, a question springs from my lips. “Is Luxe your married name?”
She goes so still that I think I might have somehow paused the moment until she speaks. “No. Why?”
“So, did your parents call you Denver on purpose?”
Shut up, Ethan. Shut your mouth and let the beautiful woman suck your dick.
She sits up. “What?”
“Denver Luxe. D Luxe. Deluxe,” I say. “I wondered if it was something they did on purpose.”
The atmosphere chills. The silver in her eyes becomes hardened stone, and darkness flashes through her, making me fear she might bite down on what she had been about to taste.
Her phone lights up on the coffee table, vibrating across the wood as the screen flashes with a call. She ignores it.
“You know what, Ethan ?” She stands. Her phone keeps ringing, puncturing the awkward atmosphere as I realize this woman is about to chew me out. She growls, swipes the device off the table, and answers. “ What ?”
The beautiful flush on her face fades. Her eyes widen.
She whirls just as the patio doors explode.
Bullets tear through the glass, and shards spit across the room, coating the furniture and floor. I flinch, throwing my arm out to grab Denver and pulling her to the other side of the couch. We fall to the tiled floor, my arms secured around her shoulders.
Fear rocks through me as bullets demolish the remaining glass and thud into the walls. Plaster dust spits across the room, heavy clouds of white hanging around us as I cup the back of Denver’s head and hold her to my chest.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I hear my voice say, but it doesn’t sound like mine. It feels like a lie, it feels like the last words I’ll ever speak, but I keep saying them.
I’m not sure how long it lasts. It feels like minutes, but surely it could only have been seconds.
Silence falls.
Denver pants, her breath warm against my bare chest, and she lifts her head. Her eyes widen, and dust has settled in her hair.
I rest my hand on her cheek. “Are you okay?” She nods quietly, lifting away, but I cling to her. “What are you doing? What if?—”
“They’re gone,” she says. “They just shot up a bunch of rooms. They clearly don’t care about being subtle, so we would have heard them coming if they wanted to finish the job. Wesson, baby?”
A low whine of fear sounds, and Denver and I look at the bedroom. Wesson is hunkered low, ears down, seemingly unhurt.
I swallow, my head dropping back. My throat is dry, my heart still thundering in my ears. “How are you so calm?”
Denver lifts herself out of my arms, half-stumbling as she stands. She lifts a lock of her dust-filled hair, sighs, and says, “Experience.”