Chapter Twelve #2
She knew Ethan to be smart and kind, but she hadn’t expected he’d remodel one of his hotels to cater for their runner-up idea.
They’d agonised over their top two choices, because as much as supporting children dealing with grief reflected how WillowGlen had helped them, caring for the elderly, especially those who were carers, reflected who Ruby was and how she’d always put herself last. They’d meticulously gone over what would suit the property and grounds best, and ultimately, they’d decided it was a better fit for children.
Now he was moving forward with their second idea anyway, making it a reality, and although she was both moved and grateful, another feeling, impossible to identify, snaked its way around her heart and squeezed hard, because she wouldn’t be involved.
In ten days, she’d go back to being Ivy.
To making movies and telling stories that didn’t resonate with her.
She clenched her hands into fists as dread spread to her tummy.
It’s what she had to do. To go back to her chosen life, the only difference being she’d still have contact with Ethan because of WillowGlen and the self-funded charity they were in the process of setting up, that would be run by an experienced team.
They would only have limited contact going forward, and never like this; it could never be like this again, for all the reasons that continued to torture her.
‘Annie!’
The concern in Ethan’s voice threw her out of her dark spiral.
She unclenched her hands and ran them over her apron, attempting to rub away the unease lurking in her belly.
‘I’m just admiring this masterpiece; I believe it’s the best one yet.’ She’d made them before, but this one was special in a way none of the others had been.
Cooking had become her quiet space; when she was on set and she needed a break from everyone, from being Ivy, she’d take to her trailer, always fitted with a kitchen at her insistence, her one true movie star demand, and cooked or baked up a storm.
Chopping, sautéing, mixing, simmering to find some relief, before she’d build Ivy back up and do it all over again.
The haunting sick feeling landed in her tummy again. She pushed it away. Her future dealings with Ethan, becoming Ivy again, attending the upcoming premiere—they were problems for her future self, not today, nor for the next week.
‘That’s teamwork for you,’ he said softly beside her, and she inhaled the delectable scent of Ethan, mixed with toffee and pastry. If only she could bottle that and call on it whenever she needed it in the future. She shook that away; no, it would be a truly terrible idea.
He’d mentioned his favourite dessert during one of their conversations snuggled up in bed, too exhausted to move after another bout of heating each other that curled her toes just thinking about it.
That’s when the idea had formed to surprise him; what she hadn’t expected was how much she’d enjoy showing him. How much fun they’d have.
Although when he’d first arrived and glanced at the island bench, it was like she could see inside his head to images of them together.
Wild. Uninhibited. Indecision had taken hold.
Forget about the cooking; maybe they should retest it?
Had she overreached and he wasn’t interested in anything other than the undeniable breath-stealing sex?
But pleasure had flooded his face when he’d realised her plan, which had made her body throb in a completely different way.
‘And now we get to eat it,’ she said, suddenly inexplicably shy.
‘Yum, my favourite part.’ Yet his gaze wasn’t on the dessert, it was on her lips as he turned towards her with bone-tingling intent. ‘But first, let me say thank you, properly.’
He took her hands. ‘Thank you—’ his voice lowered to pure temptation ‘—Annie.’ His lips brushed against hers and as he lifted her onto the island she was lost to everything else except him.
* * *
Ethan cracked open an eye, eight days later, and fixed it on Annie, lying on her belly her face burrowed into her pillow until she turned her head, and dealt him a stunned stare.
‘Well, that was…’ Her husky, breathless voice tapered off.
‘…more invigorating than a walk,’ he finished for her, his chest heaving.
She part-laughed, part-groaned.
And although a minute earlier he would have sworn he didn’t have enough energy to ever move again, he leant over and pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her sweat-slicked shoulder, inhaling her scent and the salty texture of her skin.
She murmured her appreciation and his body stirred. Surely, he was satiated after the past couple of hours, not to mention last night and earlier this morning?
Except his body seemed to disagree. Still, reluctantly, he moved away and scraped a hand over his jaw, trying to give himself a chance to get his breath back to somewhere close to even.
Hours ago, after the sun had well and truly risen and they could no longer ignore the hunger pains for something other than each other, they’d dragged themselves out of her four-poster bed and headed to the kitchen for brunch.
A full English breakfast made together and eaten while discussing the latest plans for WillowGlen.
Next on the agenda had been to go outside and make the most of the weather, except she’d used the tip of her tongue to clear a stray crumb at the corner of her mouth, and everything had changed.
Like a switch had been flipped, a blazing desire had replaced their easy banter and plans for a walk.
They’d returned to her bedroom, thrown open the curtains and the windows to let the fresh air and sunshine flood in, igniting a ravenous appetite that made a mockery of the hours they’d spent pleasuring each other over the last couple of weeks.
Annie sighed, rolled over and wriggled herself up to lean against the bedhead next to him, pulling the sheet up her naked body.
‘Stop staring,’ she said, her eyes firmly closed.
He grinned. ‘I was doing a whole lot more than staring thirty minutes ago, and there were no complaints,’ he reminded her, in case she’d forgotten the frantic pleas for more from both of them. He certainly hadn’t.
Her burst of laughter dislodged the sheet before she tucked it under her arms.
His body stirred again, so he stretched his arms up over his head because he wouldn’t reach for her.
Not yet, anyway, she needed a chance to recover and so did he.
Just how much sex could he want with someone?
It wasn’t a question he’d ever pondered, although he liked sex, a lot.
But this, with Annie, it was like a thirst had taken hold of him and only she could quench it.
Unwitting, a memory of his father sprang to mind.
The either anxious, agonised or adoring look on his face, depending on his proximity to Ethan’s mother.
It suddenly felt like nails lined his gut, and he grabbed the glass of water from the table on his side of the bed and drained it.
Because buried deep, in a place that Ethan hated to acknowledge, he’d been like that as well.
As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he’d adored his mother and always believed, despite all evidence to the contrary, that she would do as she promised.
But she hadn’t. Not once. She hadn’t loved him enough to stick around, and her actions had shown him that time and time again.
Since then, he’d sworn he’d never let anyone have that kind of power over him again. Pick him up and discard him whenever it suited. That’s why what he had with Annie was casual, like all his relationships.
Had an end date, like all his relationships.
Would leave no lasting damage, like all his relationships.
He sagged back against the bedhead, still oddly unsettled as he put his glass down, knocking it against a small bell he hadn’t noticed before.
Grateful to have something to focus on other than the tormented tangle of emotions remembering his parents always elicited, he picked it up.
‘Is this yours? WillowGlen isn’t known to have room service.’ Amusement crept into his voice as he rang the dainty bell. ‘Although hopefully someone will bring me coffee.’
‘It was my mum’s.’ Annie reached over and carefully took it from him.
Oh, crap. He opened his mouth to apologise.
‘She loved bells. Our house was full of them. It drove my dad batty, but he knew better than to complain. I eventually rehomed all of them, except this one,’ she said softly, her expression wistful. His chest tightened painfully.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.’ He gently nudged his foot against hers.
‘It’s okay.’ She put the bell on the bedside table next to her.
‘I take it everywhere with me. It’s the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night and the first thing I look at in the morning.
’ She crossed her arms and shivered, like she was suddenly cold.
‘What about your mum? What did she like?’
Ethan leant down and tugged the silk duvet up to cover Ivy and in the process himself, cocooning them both in its warmth, genuinely touched by Annie’s openness and moved by her heartbreaking connection to her mum.
In the wake of that, did he want to open this can of worms and talk about his own mother?
Naturally, he conversed with the women he slept with, about work, theirs and his, and a range of general topics.
Anything personal, including his parents or upbringing, was always off limits.
Yet this was different, he and Annie were together living in the same house for starters.
That’s why he wanted to share his past with her.
Decision made, he rolled his shoulders and answered with total honesty.
‘Jewellery. Rings, to be specific. She wore lots of them, all the time. She said they were gifts from ex-lovers. That always made her and my dad share a look I didn’t understand, still don’t understand, and then they’d both laugh. ’