The Next Best Thing (Gideon's Cove #2)(83)

“Will do. Matt, nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” Matt says. They shake hands once more. Then Ethan gives my shoulder a quick squeeze and with that, he’s gone.

“Nice guy,” Matt says, watching him go.

“Yes,” I answer. “Very nice.” I pause. “He’s very close with his son.”

“As it should be,” Matt replies, smiling. “I love kids myself. Would love to be a dad someday.”

ETHAN IS QUIET WHEN HE COMES BY LATER that night. My head is swimming…not so much with details of a bread distribution contract, but with how much Matt reminds me of Jimmy. Maybe it’s nostalgia, but the whole time, I’d felt an unnerving tingle with Matt DeSalvo.

“When you said he looked like Jimmy…” Ethan says, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I didn’t really think about it.” He sits on my couch and stares at the rug.

“Kind of strange, wasn’t it?” I ask.

“Kind of something,” Ethan answers.

“So,” I say. “We talked about the bread. Seems like a good thing.” Ethan nods but says nothing. “How was your trip?” I ask.

Fat Mikey jumps up next to Ethan and headbutts him fondly. “It was fine,” Ethan says, petting my cat.

“You said the hotel was nice,” I remind him.

“It was. Very nice.”

He looks a little lonely sitting there, scratching Fat Mikey’s ragged ears, and I try to imagine what it felt like, to see someone who looked so much like his brother…and how much he must miss Jimmy. Poor Ethan.

“I missed you,” I tell him, and he looks up fast, making my heart squeeze.

“Did you?” he asks, his lovely smile curling his lips.

“Yes, I did,” I say, trying for a sultry tone and blushing a little. Rising to my feet, I stand in front of him, glad I’m wearing a short skirt and pretty underwear (and trying to forget that I donned these because of my dinner with Matt). I slip the top button of my sweater from the hole. “Very much,” I add, raising an eyebrow.

“Do tell,” Ethan murmurs, watching my hands as I slowly undo the next button. He swallows.

“Move that cat,” I say, going on to the next button. Ethan obeys without taking his eyes off the pink lace of my bra. Fat Mikey lifts a leg to start a little inappropriate social grooming, but Ethan gives him a gentle shove with his foot, and the cat seems to sigh in disgust, walking off with his tail twitching.

Grinning a little and hoping I don’t look like a total ass, I sit on Ethan’s lap. “Glad to be back?” I ask, reaching to undo his tie.

“I suppose,” he says, smiling into my eyes.

“You suppose. Well, I suppose I’ll have to try to make you really, really glad.” I tip his face up and kiss him, a slow, wet, soft kiss. He slides his hands up my leg and makes a little noise in the back of his throat. His mouth is hot and hungry, but, feeling he deserves a little show, I break the kiss, then take his hand and put it over my heart.

“Did you bring me a present?” I whisper.

His eyes are unfocused. “What?”

“Do you have something for me?”

Ethan grins. “I do,” he answers.

“Will I like it?”

“I hope so,” he says with that smile. His thumb slides over the lace of my bra, and my girl parts clench hard and hot.

“I have something for you, too,” I murmur, definitely getting into the role of sex kitten now. I unbutton his shirt as slowly as I did my own, resting my hand over his heart for a second, gratified to find it pounding. Ethan’s hand slides up my back and unhooks my bra.

“Clever,” I whisper. “One-handed and all.”

“Thanks,” he grins, and whatever guilt I might’ve felt earlier that night is gone, and Ethan is all that matters.

This is new for us, this teasing little seduction. Being with Ethan has always been…well, fairly urgent. In the past, we’d pounce on each other. Clothes would be torn off, shoved aside, thrown around the room…not removed inch by inch. In the past, it was something more primal, less emotional. But this is more meaningful, more…

I want to tell him I love him, but the words stay firmly lodged in my heart. “I missed you,” I whisper again. It’s the best I can do for now.

His shirt is open now, and I turn my attention to his belt, trailing a series of biting little kisses down his neck while I unbuckle.

“I think I’ll go away more oft—” he starts to say, but his words are cut off as I kiss him again, fierce and hot, and he actually laughs, then shifts me so I’m underneath him on the couch, his weight hard and heavy and wonderful on top of me. I sling a leg over his hips, getting a groan as a reward.

Ethan kisses a particularly sensitive spot just below my collarbone, his beard scraping, his lips velvet and hot, moving lower. I moan and arch most wantonly against him. Smokin’, ladies and gentlemen. Smokin’.

Then I hear the sound, but hey. I’m horny. Ethan’s gifted at what he’s doing, and my brain fails to grasp the significance of the sound. Dimly I think Fat Mikey and ignore it in lieu of…oh, yes, Ethan’s hand is under my skirt, his fingers skimming, don’t stop that, big boy—

“Holy Mother of God! Marie, turn around!”