The Good Luck Charm(62)

I grab his wrist, eyes darting to his heavy, thick erection. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You need sleep.” He bites his lip, his eyes full of apology even though his lids are heavy with desire.

“Well, I’m awake now.”

“I’ll make you feel good. I’ll tire you right out if you’ll let me. Show you how sorry I am for waking you up.” His mouth is on mine, unrelenting, demanding, and then his hands are roaming over my body, peeling off the tank top and shorts, kissing his way down my stomach. He makes good on his promise, licking me until I come.

“I love you. I need you,” he says as he fits himself between my legs, entering me.

Deep down a part of me worries this isn’t good for me, for either of us, that his need for me and how much I love it is dangerous. But the fears dissipate like smoke as I get lost in the feel of him moving inside me, taking me higher with every stroke.

He’s slow and careful, he’s sweet and gentle. He’s the boy I fell in love with as a girl, grown into a man I don’t think I ever fell out of love with, between then and now.

Morning comes way too fast. Ethan doesn’t so much as twitch when my alarm goes off at 5:43. I hit Snooze twice, but Merk is breathing in my face, so trying to sneak in a few extra minutes of sleep is impossible. I’m beyond tired; parts of my body ache that really shouldn’t. While the first round of sex was gentle, it was like the lead-up to a thunderstorm, a soft breeze that suddenly changed course and became aggressive, sweeping in and dominating. Round two followed minutes after round one and lasted a hell of a lot longer.

I’m going to require so much caffeine to get through this day. I’m not sure what time Ethan arrived, but I do know the last time I looked at the clock it was after three in the morning. I throw glares at his peaceful form while I stumble around in the semidarkness trying to get dressed. I stop worrying about being quiet and throw on the bathroom light so I don’t end up wearing mismatched everything. And still, he sleeps like the dead.

I bang around in the kitchen, working out my frustration on the coffee maker. I let Merk out into the backyard, too tired to manage the walk business this morning. I need to talk to Ethan about this, about the way it impacts my job and my schoolwork. I have to tell him about my failed midterm. I don’t want to invite conflict, or put him off his game with playoffs so close and so much riding on the next few weeks, but I need him to respect my boundaries.

I glance up at the ceiling, aware he’s above me, sleeping peacefully while I have to go to work and be productive. I run a finger down the bridge of my nose, trying to ease my frustration. Last night—or this morning, I guess—he’d been so remorseful for waking me, apologetic, needy, wanting. Ethan has always been good at making me feel needed—maybe too good. Back when we were teenagers, there was so much less at stake than there is now, for both of us.

I pour coffee into a to-go mug as a tide-me-over until I can get a double espresso at the café on the way to work.

I open the fridge to grab the cream and find a paper bag from a local bakery that wasn’t there last night. I check the contents and find my favorite muffin inside. When Ethan would have had the time to pick this up, I have no idea, but the sweet gesture only fuels my annoyance.

On my way out the door, I note a bouquet of flowers left on the table at the entryway that I must’ve missed on my way to the kitchen in my caffeine-deprived haze. I pluck the card from the envelope. It’s simple and to the point:

Lilah,

I love you more than Hot Lips.

Ethan





The romantic gestures are lovely and considerate, but it doesn’t negate the fact that he’s steamrolling my life and I’m letting him. Merk whines, giving me sad eyes as I head for the door. I give him a pat on the head. “Go breathe in Ethan’s face until he wakes up and takes you for a walk.”

By the time I arrive at work, I’m slightly more alert and definitely more caffeinated. I worry I’ll end up jittery on account of how much coffee I’ve already consumed, but it’s better than falling asleep standing up. I drop my things in my locker and head to the nurses’ station.

“Hey! Should I be asking for your autograph this morning? Oh … wow … You must’ve had a night.” Ashley’s eyes go wide as she takes in my appearance.

I’m dressed in scrubs, and my hair is pulled into a ponytail, which is typical, so I’m not sure exactly what’s different about the way I look, other than my bloodshot eyes. I’m guessing the drops I put in before I left for work have worn off already. “What’re you talking about?” I set my extralarge coffee on the desk and flip through the morning case files.

She gives me a funny look. “What am I talking about? Your face is all over the local media, newspapers, Facebook, Insta—you name it.”

I pause my leafing. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I love that you’re his good luck charm. It’s just so cute.”

I rub my temples. “I’m whose good luck charm?”

“Ethan’s. Jeez.” She drops her voice. “Are you hungover or something?”

“Absolutely not!” I snap. I raise a hand in apology. “Sorry. I didn’t have the most restful sleep. I went to the game last night, and it took a while to settle when I got home.”