Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(100)

Without waiting for her to respond, he vaulted from the car and shot into the motel office. He was back within minutes. Again, he settled behind the wheel and drove to the end unit, where he parked crookedly, jumped out, and raced around to open her door.

The good Pastor Bonner hustled her inside like a teenager ready to score.

Ethan pushed the door shut behind them and let out a sigh of relief as he saw that the room was shabby, but clean. He knew there was no way on earth he could have kept her here if it had been dirty. And he wouldn’t let her go. He simply couldn’t stand this sense of separation between them any longer. He had to keep her here until he marked her for life.

The need to mark her was important, although he wouldn’t do it with a hurtful bite or a marring bruise—that would be intolerable. But he wanted to do it with something indelible. He wanted a mark that would keep her by his side forever and make them best friends again. And the only way he could think of was to do it with sex.

No matter what she said, sex meant something to Kristy, or she wouldn’t still be a virgin. Any man she had sex with would be important to her forever, and that’s why it had to be him. Only him.

He searched for a less selfish reason to justify what he intended to do, and quickly found it. She was too precious for him to allow another man to ruin her. Kristy was unique, but everyone didn’t understand that. What if her first lover didn’t take care with her? What if he didn’t understand how precious she was?

There were so many pitfalls awaiting her. Kristy was a nut about cleanliness, and that could make sex a problem for her. A man would have to be patient with her eccentricities, distract her with a little gentle teasing, a few deep kisses, until she forgot about hygiene and just enjoyed herself.

“This room is plenty clean,” he pointed out.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

The idea that she might be disappointed made him defensive. “I know what you’re thinking. Just because something’s shabby doesn’t mean it’s dirty.” He crossed to the bed and whipped down the spread and blanket to reveal a crisp white sheet. “See.”

“Ethan, are you drunk?”

She looked so pretty standing there in that short red dress, with her eyes big and uncertain, that a lump formed in his throat. “I’ve got a nice buzz, but I’m not drunk. I know exactly what I’m doing, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”


You don’t have a clue what you’re doing.

He ignored the voice, just as he’d been ignoring it ever since that night at the Pride of Carolina.

The old linoleum floor creaked beneath his feet as he moved to her side, drew her into his arms, and kissed her. He tasted spearmint, and he realized she’d popped a breath mint while he’d been registering for the room. As if she needed something artificial to disguise her own sweet taste.

Her body, warm and pliant, bent against him. He ran his hands up along her spine, then cupped her hips.

Her lips parted and her arms entwined his neck.

He stopped thinking as he lost himself in their kiss.

He had no idea how much time had passed before she drew away and looked deeply into his eyes. I love you, Eth.

Her lips didn’t move, but he heard her as clearly as he heard God’s voice. A sense of relief shot through him. Then she began to speak.

“This isn’t right. I want to more than I ever wanted anything, but it’s not right for you and it’s not right for me. This isn’t what God expects from us.”

The words were soft, spoken from her heart, but he shut them out.

Listen to her, Ethan, Oprah admonished. Listen to what she’s saying.

No. He refused to listen. He was a man, not a saint, and he was tired of letting God run his life. Instead, he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her dress and touched the soft skin beneath. “You were going to let Mike Reedy do this.” He drew his hand upward, taking the dress with him until he reached her bra. Gently he squeezed her breast through the lace.

“Maybe.”

“I don’t care what you say. I’m a better friend to you than he is.”

“Yes.”

He traced his thumb over the soft swell that rose above the top of the bra. “Why would you let him make love to you, but not me?”

She was quiet for so long that he didn’t think she’d answer. Then her fingers closed around his forearm. “Because I don’t need commitment to have sex with Mike Reedy.”

He froze. “Commitment?”

She stared at him with hungry eyes.

“Commitment? That’s what you want from me?”

She nodded, looking miserable.

He waited for the panic to hit him, but it didn’t happen. Commitment. What she really meant was marriage. He’d planned to get married someday, but that time had always been in the future. He withdrew his hand from beneath her dress.

“And I want love from you.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Love even before the commitment.”

He had to get something straight in his mind. “You don’t want commitment from Mike?”

She shook her head.

“And you don’t want love from him either?”

She shook it again.

“But you want it from me?”

She nodded.

He still didn’t feel any panic. Instead, he was filled with a sense of exhilaration that came all the way from his toes. It was as if a huge burden had been lifted from his heart. Of course.