Chapter 15 Unsettled Her
UNSETTLED HER
Nora wasn’t so sure why Ethan was happy to hear she wanted to take on Boston.
She was lucky she could think of anything other than the fun she’d had walking the streets with him, eating lunch together, coming back to the Seaport District and exploring there, stopping at Levain Bakery for warm cookies not that far from her place.
Yeah, wish she didn’t know about the bakery. Or that it was only a two-minute walk.
Still longer than going to her fridge, so it wasn’t as if she was going to do it often, but she could.
“This was a great day,” she said. They were between his condo and hers. She could tell he wasn’t sure what to do. Or what she wanted.
“It was.” He looked at his watch. “It’s early for dinner, but if you’re up to seeing if I’m lying about cooking, I could do that.”
Every part of her being wanted to scream yes. The other part said they might have pushed their limits.
For too many years she listened to the rational side and now she was going to lean on the irrational, irresponsible one.
“Only if I can help.”
His smile spread across his face, the brim of his hat doing nothing to hide it, or the way his blue eyes tracked her every move, searching for a hint of what she might be thinking.
She rarely gave anything away. He’d learn that fast.
She was an expert at keeping her emotions under lock and key, her feelings sealed tight behind an easy, practiced calm.
But Ethan had a way of slipping past those walls. Of drawing things from her she hadn’t meant to reveal, things no one else ever had.
She thought she’d hidden herself well today. Still, she’d seen the flicker of confusion in his eyes and the hesitation that said he wasn’t used to being the one left wondering.
It should have given her the upper hand. If she was playing a game, but she wasn’t. She never did and never would.
But the truth was, nothing about how she felt around Ethan was familiar. He unsettled her in ways she didn’t know how to name.
Agreeing to dinner with him was just another example when she should have taken herself home.
“That’s even better,” he said, turning toward his place. “I don’t even have to stop for food. Though I should ask what you’re in the mood for. I might not have it and we can hit the market.”
“I’m open for anything.” He turned and grinned at her. That one got away from her, and maybe him with the sexy smirk. “You’re biting your tongue to not sound ordinary with a comeback, aren’t you?”
“Saw right through that.”
He went to bump his elbow against hers, then stopped himself.
Probably for the best.
They’d already touched more than she’d planned. Every brush of contact had been innocent, accidental, harmless, and yet somehow, it never felt that way.
The slide of his arm against hers when they drifted too close.
The weight of his hands on her shoulders as he guided her out of someone’s path.
The quick, firm grab when she’d stumbled and he caught her like it was instinct.
None of it intentional. None of it forced.
And yet, every touch sent a slow burn spiraling through her.
Now here she was, going back to his place.
No strangers around to distract her.
No background noise to break the spell that always seemed to buzz between them.
Just the two of them.
His kitchen. His laugh. His nearness.
And the dangerous comfort of forgetting it wasn’t Monday through Friday anymore.
The minute Ethan unlocked the door and held it open, the faint scent of something clean drifted out to meet her. As if his sweat activated a more pleasant smell.
The urge to lift her arm and check if she stunk was great, but embarrassing. She’d be fine.
She stepped inside, forcing her eyes not to look down the hallway toward his bedroom suite. The place was stamped with his style.
Light, bright, modern. Uncluttered and immaculate. He worked the same way.
Though she was positive he paid someone to clean here.
He tossed his phone on the kitchen island and turned toward her with that same half-smile that always threw off her balance.
“Wine? Water? I’ve got a protein shake I never drink if you want to pretend we’re being healthy,” he joked.
“Water,” she said quickly, then softened it with a small laugh. “Please. Maybe wine with dinner, later.”
He grabbed two more bottles and handed one to her, she opened it and took a healthy gulp, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he swallowed next to her.
Her pulse picked up again. If drinking water next to him after a long, sweaty walk caused this reaction, she was in serious trouble.
She looked around some more, walked to the large windows and gazed out toward the water. “So what do you do to unwind on the weekends? I mean, I’d just sit here and watch the action.” She looked down and could see people walking around below.
He moved closer to stand beside her. “Depends who I’m unwinding with.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t. She started the conversation asking that silly question because she had to calm her damn nerves.
Being in his place hours ago wasn’t a big deal; she knew they were leaving for their day.
But now…now she was here for dinner and conversation.
All the elements of a date. A romantic one, as opposed to two friends exploring the town.
She turned to look at him, his scent still there, still strong, and still making her pulse kick up.
The light hit his face in a way that made her remember every detail she’d been trying to forget. The rough slide of his jaw against her neck, the sound of his voice when he’d said her name.
She exhaled slowly, half a laugh, half a plea. She had to get some control. “Ethan…”
He tilted his head, his blue eyes softer now. “Relax, Nora. We’re just cooking dinner.”
She nodded, though neither of them moved for a long moment. Him saying that should have relaxed her, but the air was so thick it felt like a touch.
When she finally stepped away, it wasn’t because she wanted to.
It was because if she didn’t, she’d forget every reason this was supposed to be a bad idea.
“So what are we making?” she asked. It was the only way to gain her control back.
“I thought pasta and veggies. You know, to counter the Hot Cheetos that you know are in the pantry. Put some sliced chicken over it and we are good to go.”
“Sounds delicious,” she said.
“Why don’t we start,” he said. “You’re nervous and shouldn’t be. You can leave at any point if you want. I’m not chaining you here.”
Maybe she’d like that though.
Oh hell. Where did that thought come from?
She took another drink of water and coughed. He pounded her on the back. “I’m good,” she croaked out. She didn’t need him touching her anymore.
He grabbed a box of tissues and put it in front of her. She pulled one out to blot her eyes that were running during her embarrassing coughing fit.
While she was cleaning up her face, he pulled out a package of chicken that he’d bought this morning, then several vegetables.
Red peppers, broccoli, carrots, mushrooms.
He moved around while she stood there, telling her with his quick, efficient movements that he was used to cooking.
They both had a cutting board in front of them with knives. He went for the chicken and she snagged the pepper.
“Cut them any way you want,” he said. “I’m not fussy about those things.”
“Me neither.”
In silence, they chopped and prepared, then brought the pans out.
The chicken breasts were seasoned first and thrown into the oven to bake, the veggies in piles to be cooked in stages.
“My mother told me not to mix them together until it’s time to finish,” he said.
“Did your mother teach you to cook or were you one of those people who took those fancy cooking classes with a partner?”
“My mother. Never did a cooking class with someone. Have you? Is that something you want to do?”
“I always thought it’d be fun, but no. No one has ever wanted to.”
She’d asked too, but they’d thought she was nuts.
“Most of the women I’ve been with wanted to go out to dinner or thought I’d have a chef.”
She turned and wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want to think about other women he’d been with or the fact that they were looking for those extras.
“Give me a home-cooked meal any day of the week. I enjoy going out like the next person, but this is more—”
She stopped talking before the word intimate escaped.
He’s my boss. He’s my boss. Don’t be an idiot and make this any harder than it is.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just trailed off is all.”
He didn’t look as if he believed her. Or if he did, he was keeping his opinion to himself.
He continued to move around the kitchen, getting more pots and pans, then pasta and using the pot filler.
She actually got out of his way since she felt as if she was more a nuisance than help.
“What do you like to do to unwind?” he asked.
“My life isn’t as stressful as yours.”
“You don’t know that. Or I don’t know that. Our jobs aren’t the only things that can stress a person out.”
“True. Some might say I’ve had a nice vacation not working for almost a month.”
“And it probably stressed you out.”
“Fair point. I guess for me, I exercise, read. Have a glass of wine now and again.”
“Like we can have tonight. If not, it’s fine.”
She saw the wine fridge under his island. Looked to be stocked too.
“I thought you’d be a beer man. Though you were drinking the espresso martini with me.”
He smiled, the memory of the night was something they couldn’t avoid forever and she wasn’t sure why she was trying.
“I drink just about anything when the mood strikes. There is beer in there too if you want some.”
“Wine will be good when we sit for dinner.”
Her eyes drifted over him unhurriedly.
His dark, messy hair his fingers had raked through after he’d taken off his hat, leaving it perfectly imperfect.
The rough shadow of a beard that hadn’t been there earlier in the week added an edge that made him look even more dangerous to her hormones.
Her gaze followed the line of his chest, broad beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt, then lower to his hands.
Strong, capable hands that were casually scraping vegetables onto one cutting board, then sliding the other into the dishwasher.
Effortless. Controlled.
Every move he made felt deliberate, even when it wasn’t.
Just like their night together.
She picked her water up and moved back to the windows. She wished she could open them and get some fresh air.
He was behind her just as fast, his presence as strong as her desire.
She turned, thinking he’d step back, but he didn’t. He held his ground. “You’re not alone,” he said.
“I’m not?” There was no reason to ask what he was talking about.
“No. Don’t think that. This thing, it’s powerful.”
“And uncomfortable.”
“I don’t want you to feel that way.”
“It’s hard not to when things keep popping back in my head. Did that night really happen?”
“Oh, it did. I haven’t forgotten a second of it.”
“Me neither,” she whispered.
He lifted her chin with his hand, but when she didn’t pull back, he lowered his lips to hers.
She should stop it. She should leave.
She did neither of those things.
Instead, she reached her hands around his neck and pulled him closer.
Made the kiss hotter.
Made it the way she wanted and not what he might give her.
His hands slid around her waist, inching slowly under her shirt to her bare skin.
Just his touch again was enough for her to let go and be that woman she’d been a month ago.
It was Saturday. The weekend.
It was okay to feel this way. Or so she was trying to convince herself.
Not that she was an idiot walking into fire once again.
His hands went to her ass. She knew if she stepped back, he’d honor it.
But she didn’t. She jumped up and put her legs around his waist and he held her tighter to his body while she ground against his cock pressing through his shorts.
“Don’t talk,” she mumbled against his lips. “Just take me to your room.”
He honored her request exactly as she’d said, walking to his room, then dropping her on the bed.
She’d push the embarrassment of being hot and sweaty from their day’s adventure away. The heat and dew on her body was much more intense anyway.
When he pulled his shirt over his head, she did the same while she kicked her sneakers off and bent to remove her socks.
In less than ten seconds, he was diving on the bed naked and pulling her next to his body.
The heat was the same as before.
His skin a combination of smooth and rough with his hair.
His mouth landed on hers, and he rolled them so he was on his back and her on top.
She hadn’t expected this and looked at him with confusion.
“You wanted it, prove it to me,” he said. “Condoms in the drawer.”
Her brows drew together. “You’re not participating?”
He laughed. A rough, reckless sound that washed over her body leaving chills in its wake. “Oh, I’m participating. Don’t you worry there.”
He pointed to the drawer, she leaned to get the condom out, then tossed it next to him on the pillow.
Before she could scoot down, he latched onto her nipple and sucked hard.
His teeth grazing, his tongue lapping up any flavor he could.
Her other nipple got some attention, not the same, something different, something better, something a bit more forceful as he pinched her, then massaged, and pinched again.
How was she supposed to prove anything to him when she could barely think past the feelings in her body?
Her back arched and she moved up closer to give him better access. She knew he was good. He was skilled.
He’d proven it to her once. Enough for her to need this a second time.
“Cover me,” he said.
“What?”
“Cover my dick and ride me now!”
She fumbled forward to grab the condom, her hands trembling with urgency and anticipation. His rough command wasn’t cruel. It was deliberate. A low, raw edge meant to pull her deeper, to strip away thought until all that was left was feeling.
Feeling as if she was going to explode the minute she sank down on top of him.
The groan escaped before she could stop it, her body arching, his hands reaching for her breasts and hanging on as his thumbs brushed back and forth.
Every movement he made, every rise and fall of her body, even the tightening of her inner muscles had her craving for more.
Craving the end that she knew might blow her mind.
Her body was speeding up, her breasts would jiggle if he didn’t have such a grip on them. And his eyes, those blue orbs of his, they were staring right at her as if to say, “That’s it. Keep proving how much you want it.”
And she did. She put her hands on his chest, then pushed her overworked thigh muscles some more. Just enough to get her there.
Her body cresting, tensing, falling with each twitch and easy pulse inside of her.
Ethan’s hands dropped from her chest and gripped her waist, holding her still, as he pounded up into her as if he was setting out to prove how much he wanted it too.
When he came, when he emptied every last part of him, he pulled her down to his chest and held her tight.
That was when she realized she’d made the same damn mistake again.