The Next Best Thing (Gideon's Cove #2)(71)
“Right,” I say, shifting on the leather sofa. “Well, um, I guess I’m still…wary. That things won’t work out.”
“I think we need to try something before we decide if things are going to work or not, honey.”
Ethan has called me honey for years and years, but tonight, the word lodges in my heart like an arrow. His eyes are gentle, his hands still.
“What do you want to try?” I whisper, then clear my throat.
He smiles, his face transforming from serious to wicked in a heartbeat. “Well, I am a guy, so sex is always welcome.” His laugh is warm and naughty, and I feel it in my stomach. Blushing, I clutch the pillow a little tighter.
“But anything would be okay, Lucy. Just telling people we’re together. Or going out in public together.”
“We did go out together in public,” I say. “To Lenny’s.”
“Right. But you didn’t let me hold your hand or kiss you good-night, either.”
I take a deep breath, nodding. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Luce.” He gets up from his chair and sits next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. I rest my head on his shoulder, grateful that I don’t have to see his face, welcoming the physical comfort he’s always given me. “I know it’s scary,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my hair. “But if you didn’t want anything from me, Lucy, I don’t think you’d kiss me the way you do.”
“Good point,” I say, swallowing. I wish I could tell him the truth—that if I didn’t love him enough—the way I loved Jimmy—he’d end up hating me, and that’s something I couldn’t bear. “I just don’t know how to…I’m not sure how to be anymore, Ethan,” I whisper, a tear sneaking out of the corner of my eye. “But you’re right. I do…feel things for you. It’s just that I’m a mess, too.”
He pulls back to smile down at me. “I know,” he says gently, wiping the tear off my cheek. “I do know.”
“That I’m a mess?”
“Absolutely,” he agrees.
Then he kisses me, and as always, his wonderful, smiling mouth makes me forget my worries. When his hand slips under my shirt, a little moan sneaks out of my throat. Ethan would never do anything that would hurt me. I know this. Of course I do.
So when he stands up and asks me to come to bed with him, I go.
But here’s the thing.
Sex with Ethan has always been a guilty, delicious pleasure, sometimes urgent, always smokin’. My college roomie had diabetes, and once in a while, when her blood sugar was falling, she’d come crashing into our room, wrench open the emergency jar of Nutella and inhale a big spoonful, then collapse gratefully onto the bed. That’s what Ethan was to me. My emergency Nutella.
But now things are different. The hedonistic pleasure is gone, dang it. It’s not that I’m lying there like a Regency virgin, mind you…it’s that Expectations Are High. And I can’t seem to shut off my brain. Ethan unbuttons Lucy’s shirt, kissing the exposed skin. He really does have the best mouth, doesn’t he, ladies and gentlemen? Nice effect, with the bristly tickle of his beard.
“So do you have a special razor or something?” I ask aloud.
He pulls back to look at me. “What?”
“Never mind. It’s just…never mind.”
He raises an eyebrow, then kisses the corner of my mouth. I sigh, running my fingers through the cool silkiness of his hair. I wonder what kind of shampoo he uses, then roll my eyes, wishing I could just be quiet and enjoy.
Folks, isn’t it nice that Ethan takes his time undressing Lucy, knowing that she’s about ready to jump out of her skin and run screaming back to her cat?
“Relax,” Ethan mutters against the lace of my bra. Not one of the La Perla confections I blew a ridiculous amount of money on…just a little thing I got at Target, nothing special, though it does have cute stripes on the—oh, for God’s sake! Listen to me!
“Eth, could you move just a little? You’re on my hair.” It used to be that Ethan could take me against the wall, and I wouldn’t have noticed a crowd of fifty thousand. At the memory of the wall, I sink a little more into the bed. Oh, yes, the wall. Now that was hot.
“Better?” Ethan asks, shifting his weight.
“Perfect,” I say.
He smiles, then kisses my neck as he unhooks my bra. He’s good at this. Ethan is an expert at undressing women. He’s certainly undressed Lucy quite a few times, hasn’t he, folks? I imagine applause from our studio audience. From downstairs, I can hear Fat Mikey start to yowl. Merrrrrooooow! Merrrooow! Did I feed him? Can’t he be quiet for, I don’t know, twenty more minutes so I can get this done? And where’s Corinne? She said she might spend another night with me, not wanting to be at her place without Christopher. Will she feed Fat Mikey? Is she nursing?
I remind myself that I’m partially naked—actually, yes, I’m feeling it now, and I slide my hand up Ethan’s gorgeous back, relishing the smooth skin at his neck, the soft, fine hair that always sticks up in the back of his head.
“Ouch,” Ethan mutters. “Honey, your bracelet’s caught.”
“Sorry,” I say. Sure enough, the gold chain has tangled in Ethan’s hair. Poor guy. I turn my wrist, and Ethan yelps as he loses a few strands. “Sorry,” I say again, feeling the giggles coming on. I clamp my lips together, shoot, just when he’s kissing me…okay, here it comes, sloshing over the edge, and I can’t help it, I start laughing. Hard. Wheezing, my features contorting in helpless hilarity. Grabbing a pillow, I clamp it over my face. Stop, Lucy, this is really inappropriate, how much can the guy take? I snort like a pig, which makes me laugh harder and snort again. Tears leak out of my eyes as I shake with near hysteria and slap the mattress, trying to stop.