Chapter 24
Ethan
I knock on the door to the guest room, and just when I’m about to walk away because I think she might be asleep already, the door opens, and she lets me in.
Bonnie looks lost and sad. Still, seeing her in my clothes makes me want to tackle her to the floor. The gray tee falls to her mid-thighs and the sleeves go halfway down her forearms. No one has ever worn my clothes. Not even Grant or Jordan. Not since I was sixteen when my world melted down into a pool of anxiety.
She goes to sit at the edge of the bed, but I motion for her to get in. She does so meekly, and I tuck her in.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Bonnie.” I sit beside her, stroking a hand along her temple.
“Thanks,” she whispers. My heart goes out to her because I can see how much she’s hurting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this subdued before.
“Were you close?”
There are shadows in her eyes when she answers, “Um…she raised me. She was there for me in a way no one else was.” She meets my gaze steadily, and I see a lot of pain behind her eyes. I know she just suffered a loss, but something tells me there’s more to it than her nan’s passing.
“Why did you come here, of all places, Bonnie, and not to any of your friends?"
“I don’t know. Does there need to be a reason?”
I huff out a laugh. “Not for me, no, but maybe you need to figure out why. Not now, of course. Later on. In any case, I’m glad you felt safe enough to come to me.”
She’s silent.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask.
“I need to go to Clonmel—Ireland, tomorrow.”
“You mean today?”
My teasing tone doesn’t seem to register, as she just continues looking lost. “Oh, yeah. True.”
“Have you booked your flight yet?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, no! My phone. I left it at home. The battery went dead.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out. Get some sleep.” I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “It’ll be alright.”
She holds fast when I try to pull away. “Stay.” She sniffs, holding back more tears. “Stay and…hold me.”
Her beautiful eyes are large and luminous.
Saying yes feels like I’d be taking advantage of her vulnerable state. “Bonnie—”
“Please don’t say no, Ethan.”
That’s the problem right there. I can’t say no. Not anymore. The last time I stayed in bed with her, I woke up to find her plastered to my body. I followed my instincts, and it landed us in an awkward mess we still haven’t recovered from.
The difference is, this time, she’s asking. If she asks me to do more than hold her, I won’t have the strength to stop, knowing now how she feels and tastes.
I huff out a breath and round the bed, getting into the opposite side. I haven’t even settled yet before she’s all over me. I freeze at the jarring contact and wait for the initial wave of pleasure to subside. Her head is pillowed on my chest, and she has one arm around my torso and her leg curled around mine.
Christ, she feels good wrapped around me. “Better?”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs sleepily. Within minutes, her breathing evens out.
I study her features in the low light. So. Fucking. Beautiful. And vulnerable and soft and open.
I watch her sleep for a long time, wondering why she was raised by her nan when she has parents.
Or does she not have parents?
“Good morning, Bonnie.”
I enter the room and approach her slowly, fully expecting her to freak out once she remembers what happened yesterday.
I deliberately left the bed early this morning to give her space, although it was hard, seeing as she was still sprawled all over me. It was torture getting through the night. At some point, she was literally humping my leg and moaning. I figured that she was in the middle of an erotic dream.
It took all my willpower not to flip her over, wake her up, and sink my leaking, achy cock into her warmth until my balls emptied.
But knowing that she was exhausted and out of her mind with grief stopped me. For all I know, she could wake up regretting her spur-of-the-moment decision to come to me.
“Hi, Ethan,” she greets me with a groggy and shy smile.
Okay, so far, so good. I drop the covered plate of buttered toast and an omelet on the coffee table.
“That smells divine.” She takes the tall glass of water flavored with mint and a lemon slice and chugs half of it in one go. “Just what I needed, thank you. My mouth felt so dry.”
Then, she looks at the contents of the glass and rolls her eyes. “What’s with the fruit and the vegetable, Harvard? A plain bottle of water would have been just fine.”
My lips twitch. And the brat is back.
“And here I was, thinking you’d appreciate the princess treatment. You need rehydration and vitamin C. Drink up, we don’t want you getting sick after the stunt you pulled yesterday.” I snark back.
She goes shy, her eyes falling away from mine. She pulls at an imaginary piece of lint, and I see her face slowly start to pinken.
“I-I’m…”
I want to laugh so badly, but I reel it in and say gently instead, “It’s okay, Bonnie, don’t overthink it. Someone very close to you died. You needed me, and I was there. Simple as that.”
“I’m usually tougher than this." She says, "It was just a shock, you know. And the way she died made it worse. She fell in the bathroom. She hit her head and might have broken her hip again, I don’t know, but she couldn’t get up. No one came until she had already passed.”
I take the glass out of her hand and hug her. “Aw, that sounds awful. I’m sorry, baby.” I pat her back gently. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, though. That’s why I’m here.”
She nods her head and accepts my comfort. We remain like that for some time. She doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry to leave my arms and I'm happy to hold her for as long as she wants.
“Bonnie, what about your parents?" I ask against her temple.
She remains silent.
"Which side of your family was your nan on?” Surely she can tell me that.
She shakes her head like she doesn’t want to answer but eventually does. “She's my dad’s mother. But, Ethan, I don’t want to talk about them. Please.”
Christ. There’s pain there. A lot. “Them,” she says . So, they’re alive, then. Both of them.
I nod. “Okay baby.”
I hold her tighter, and she lets me, taking the consolation she needs.
“There’s a flight to Dublin leaving at eight tonight,” I tell her when she draws back. She looks around, and I know she’s searching for a clock. “It's just before noon now. Plenty of time to get ready.”
I rise and pull away the curtains, letting in a stream of light, which bathes the room. The sudden influx of light blinds me, so I reach into my sweatpants pocket for my glasses.
“We can swing by yours and get your things, then I’ll take you to the airport,” I say as I go to sit down on the other side of the bed.
She keeps staring at my face.
“Ethan? Does light bother you?”
I look back at her. She's noticed. Or maybe Sabrina has mentioned something to her. “A little.”
A lot, actually. The brighter the light, the poorer my vision.
“I thought you were short-sighted.”
I shake my head but don’t say anything.
“Oh? So, what do the glasses do then?”
“They filter out certain aspects of light so I can see better. But if it was dark, I wouldn't need them.”
“How about just getting laser eye treatment?”
I watch her expression carefully wondering why she keeps asking me to get the treatment. She's open and curious. “Do men in glasses turn you off?”
Her cheeks turn pink. “Me? Um, well, my opinion doesn’t matter, does it? You’re not my man.”
“Sure, Bonnie. Whatever you say.” I smirk.
I wonder if she has any idea that she crossed a line no woman has ever even come close to crossing when she showed up half-frozen at midnight because she needed my comfort.
“Well?” she prompts when I don’t answer her question.
“Laser eye surgery wouldn’t help my condition. It’s called Hemeralopia, by the way. Being able to see better in the dark.”
“How did you get it? And is there a cure?”
I pause, debating if to tell her and how she would take it. I decide to take my chances and answer her truthfully.
“I was born with something called cone dystrophy. It’s one of those rare causes of hemeralopia. There's no cure."
"Really?" I feel her small hand on mine and I turn my palm over and interlock our fingers. The small gesture warms me to no end.
"None. But there’s strong evidence that stem cell therapy could reverse some damage, but it’s not something I’m willing to consider.”
“But, why not?” she asks.
I look into her eyes when I answer. “The same reason why I hate clutter. I need to have control all the time, and I wouldn't under a doctor's knife." Or more accurately his needle inside my eye.
“Is that it?" She sounds relieved
"Were you expecting another reason?
"Well, I thought you maybe had Aspergers.”
I burst out laughing, thinking she’s joking.
“No, seriously. I even entertained the possibility of you being a vampire at some point.”
Oh no, not Bonnie too. “Please, for the love of God do not tell me you’re a Twilight fan.”
Ingrid and her girls still have a sickening addiction to the vampire series. Ingrid is usually outnumbered on our mandatory once-a-month movie night, but on the rare occasion that any of her girls happen to be around, guess what we're watching again?
She pulls her lower lip between her teeth. “I should probably confess at this point that last year, I started to build a fan website for Twilight trivia.”
“Jesus!”
“Hey, in my defense, I only got to see it for the first time last year. And I didn’t end up doing the website thingy. I feel it’s important to highlight that redeeming fact.”
“That’s extremely reassuring,” I say.
I’m not telling her that she and the women in my life have that in common. They will discover that fact by themselves inevitably, but I'm going to stick with the guys and not expedite that event in any way.
“But seriously, Ethan, I wondered about you a lot. You were really strange,” she continues.
I'm pleased she freely admits that she thought about me. It's only fair since she's had me under her spell for ages. “I still am, babe, although I’ve come a very long way if I do say so myself. Especially in the last six months. I’m so much better now.”
And a lot of it is down to you. You’re fucking exposure therapy, Bonnie Russo.
“Really? You've come a long way from "Take out your trash" Ethan?" Her impression of me is hilarious.
"I do not look or sound like that"
"Well maybe I didn't get the baritone right, but the constipated scowl is spot on. So you're past all that."
I laugh, shaking my head. "I'd like to believe so. Yes." I think .
"So, if I were to throw that potpourri bowl sitting on the dresser in the air and let its contents fall like confetti, you wouldn’t go bonkers?”
She’s referring to the bowl of scented flowers Ingrid likes to leave in rarely-used rooms like this one. Already, the thought of her doing it kicks up my heart rate.Whoa.
This woman is diabolical. “Why would you even think of doing that?”
She shrugs. “To prove a point. And to piss you off. You’re so damn easy and fun to rile Ethan. And I’ve never seen a hotter scowl than yours. But never mind, you're better now.” She pats my arm and yawns.
I’m still trying to get my breathing controlled, telling myself that she’s only kidding when she pauses. I see the second she makes up her mind and tries to run off the bed. I grab her ankle just before she clears the bed and easily yank her back, pinning her with my weight while she squirms.
“Calm down, Ethan. I swear I was only going to the bathroom,” she lies.
“No, you fucking weren’t.”
“I haven’t yet been this morning. I have a full bladder, and I will pee myself on this bed if you don’t let me up,” she argues. Seeing my eyes widen in horror, she shouts, “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! You should see your face.” She cackles.
“Jesus Christ, Bonnie, can you please stop winding me up? You act like a two-year-old sometimes, you know.”
“Whatever. And you could pass for two hundred, you freaking vampire…bat.”
We start sniggering while I’ve got her pinned down. She snorts loudly, and I howl at how ridiculous the sound is coming from her delicate frame.
She blushes but can't stop snorting with her laughter, which makes me laugh even harder until our gazes meet. Slowly, the laughter dies as awareness heightens between us.
“You snort like a giant stallion, Bonnie.” I’m looking at her full, parted lips as I tease her.
“And you’re such a jackass to point that out,” she whispers, panting faster.
I lower my head the moment she raises hers, and our lips collide.