Broken Juliet(95)

He kisses me deeply, and my heart rate doubles. He sucks on my lip, and that’s it. I’m all over him. Hands in his hair, and gripping the back of his neck, him pulling my hips forward, and curving his hards around the top of my ass. I realize we’re engaging in an obnoxious public display of affection, but I don’t even care.

“Baggage claim,” he says breathlessly.

“We need to pick up my bag.”

“Leave it here. We’ll buy you new clothes.”

“Okay. Cab?”

“Yep.”

He kisses me again, and all plans of leaving are temporarily waylaid. He wraps his hands in my hair and pulls, just enough to drive me crazy. More than enough to remind me why we were talking about cabs.

“We have to get out of here,” he says as he pulls me in for a hug. “But first, give me a minute to try and deflate this raging boner. Tell me something horrifying. Distract me from my intense need to f*ck you on this ugly carpet.”

“Uh … okay.” I struggle to concentrate. “Well, one of the regular fans who came to the shows this week said she thought Nathan and I had better chemistry than you and me.”

He pulls back and frowns. “The f*ck? Are you kidding me?!”

“Nope. She said she liked your performance better, but that Nathan and I made a better couple. He was gentler.”

He shakes his head and laughs bitterly. “The reason Nathan’s gentler is because he’s not holding himself back from ripping your clothes off in front of a theater full of people. That’s not chemistry. It’s lack of passion.”

“She also knitted you a cardigan and wanted to know if you were single.”

His incredulity drops. “What did you tell her?”

“That you don’t wear cardigans.”

“I mean, about me being single.”

I run my finger over the pattern on his T-shirt. As if my face wasn’t hot enough, more blood rushes to my cheeks. “I said … that I thought you were spoken for.”

“Thought?”

“Well … yeah.”

He tilts my head up.

“Spoken for? I like the sound of that.”

He kisses me again. Softer but still intense.

“Next time you see her, you tell her I’m most definitely spoken for. And she’s f*cking nuts if she thinks Nathan has better chemistry with you. I invented chemistry with you. Everything else is just pretend.”

As if to demonstrate, he kisses my neck, and I swear, he’s trying to kill me in a public place. Everything burns and aches, and if he keeps doing that thing with his tongue, my legs are going to give out.

“Do you think your bag will be at the carousel by now?” I say, short on breath and patience.

“If not, f*ck it. There’s nothing in it that can’t be easily replaced. Except my journal.” He ponders for a second. “Actually, we’d better go get it. If anyone finds it, they’ll know how depraved I really am. And it’s all about you.”

He takes my hand and leads me down to baggage claim. His strides are long, and I have to trot a little to keep up.

“Hey, I’m wearing heels. Not so fast.”

He stops and turns to me. “Do you think people would stare if I threw you over my shoulder? Because I really want to do that. Then I can ogle your ass and just run.”

The look in his eye is a little manic. For a second, I think he’s going to do it. Then he spies the heavily armed security officer a few feet away.

“Excuse me, sir?” he says, and the guard looks at him. “Would it be acceptable to carry my girlfriend like a sack of potatoes in order to get out of here quicker and make sweet love to her?”

The guard’s mouth moves, but he resists smiling. “No, sir, that would not be acceptable.”

“Piggyback?”

“Nope.”

“Put her on a trolley?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

“So my wife keeps telling me.”

Ethan takes my hand again and continues toward the baggage carousels. He walks a little slower, but not much.

As soon as we get there, he spies his bag and quickly grabs it. Then he drags me out to the taxi line and after we get in and he gives his address, he puts his arm around me and sighs.

I lean against his chest and close my eyes. Every part of me is relieved to have him home. Even the parts that are incredibly uptight about having him home.

“So, you called me your girlfriend back there.”

“You caught that, huh? Are you mad?”

I think about it for a second. “No.”

“Freaking out?”

“A bit.”

“Okay. I can deal with ‘a bit.’ Tell me your concerns about being called my girlfriend.”

I look down at my fingers and shrug. “I don’t know. It just seems too soon.”

“Cassie, I’ve been in love with you for more than six years. How is that too soon?”

“I mean, this time around.”

He pauses and tightens his arm around me. “Listen, this isn’t a time. This is it. The end. Last stop on the relationship train. I thought I’d been clear about that.”

Simultaneous shudders of joy and panic travel through me.