Thick & Thin (Thin Love, #3)(20)
“You are perfect.”
It was a compliment I couldn’t take, didn’t believe and it was enough of a ruthless kindness that it brought me down from the high I’d been soaring on. It didn’t feel right, somehow, afterward, with Ethan still inside me, pulsing, panting against my skin and the bliss from our orgasms ebbing away. Somehow, dammit, it felt false. I felt suffocated, breathless by the realization that I’d given more than I’d meant to. That I’d liked it, him, more than I thought I could.
I ran from it. Him, which made no sense at all. I loved Ransom. No one would take that from me, but he couldn’t be who I needed. Ethan could. Though I didn’t love him in the same way, he still held a promise of being someone I didn’t have to run from.
No. I was not perfect. I was broken, my secret failure hidden away, terrified of discovery. And I was something else altogether, the antithesis of perfect because I let that sweet, sweet man think that I could love him. Modi, I wish I could.
There was nothing for it. I could only stand alone in the center of my studio with sweat beading down my back, with the low, soothing refrain of Mendelsohn’s melodies tempting me, offering me more reprieve, more freedom from my worry, but it would not last. I knew that. My hands, fingers shook as I watched them—the deep lines that creased into my palm, the wide thumbnails, the small scar that lanced up the center of my left palm. Ransom had held the injury closed until we made it to the hospital. A stupid broken wine glass fractured in my hand when he proposed the first time. He hadn’t pressed me for an answer. Not then. Not again until the next year and then he made sure there were no wine glasses in arm’s reach. Why hadn’t I just said yes then?
No. Not that memory, I thought, refocusing on the music, on the reason I was hiding in the first place.
The song would end and so would the dance and I’d be left to face the truth. I’d be forced to admit I was really a coward. My mind filed through excuses; rational reasons that I’d run from Ethan with no explanation. None sounded reasonable. None made any sense at all and just when I began to devise a plan, something to keep me from looking like a complete orto, something prickled my awareness, telling me I was not alone. I jerked my gaze up and met Ethan’s in the mirror in front of me.
No time for excuses, then.
“I didn’t like waking up alone.” Ethan had never shown me anger. There had never been a time in the short months that I knew him that would warrant him being truly mad. He was then. It showed up in the pinch of his eyes, how he locked his jaw tight. He moved slowly, irritated, but rational enough to know he shouldn’t lose his temper. Always thinking, that man. Always in control. Always fair and logical. Me zanmi, he was my own little Spock. “I especially didn’t like waking up alone, missing you, still smelling you on my sheets and you not there for me to touch.”
It was stupid, useless, but I lied anyway. “I…couldn’t sleep.”
“Jesus, Aly, you’re a terrible liar.”
I’d admitted the truth to myself but that didn’t mean I liked Ethan calling me on it and when we only managed to stare at each other, waters being testing, as though waiting to see who would jump in first, I decided I could at least give him enough rope to save himself.
“Ethan…”
But he didn’t seem eager to let me explain or do more than watch him as he approached, moving his body close enough to touch me, but staying just back enough that I could move away from him if I wanted. Ethan was always a diplomat.
He lifted his hand, extending it to me and I only hesitated for a second before I took it, earning a smile from him. “Tell me what happened. Did I spook you?”
His expression remained stoic, serious even when I waved my ring at him. “If this didn’t spook me, nothing will.”
“It was the first time you let me touch you. Really touch you.” He ignored my joke completely, holding my hand to his chest.
“Yes. It was.”
“It…was…” Ethan seemed distracted, as though the stroke of his finger between my fallen curls around my face was something he did unconsciously. “Was that the first time anyone other than Ransom touched you?”
There was a warning in his voice I didn’t like, something that made my stomach tighten, but couldn’t quite place where that sensation came from. Ethan had a right to know these things, I supposed. I had agreed to marry him and even if I hadn’t meant it when I said yes, we were still in a relationship. There were slivers of details he had a right to know. “He didn’t take my virginity, Ethan.”
“Have you let anyone else touch you since you left him?” When I didn’t speak, Ethan nodded. “I thought so.” That streak of anger left his features just then and he seemed to relax, pulling on my arm to bring me close, touching his forehead to mine as he ran his long fingers up the back of my neck. “I pushed.”
“I jumped.”
“Aly…” I shook my head, interrupting him but Ethan was insistent. “I hate that I can’t apologize.” He lost all seriousness then, finally laughing when my gaze jumped to his face. “I liked it too much.” He moved slowly at first, like the world had been reduced to a sleepy sloth’s pace, a warning of what he intended. Then the kiss came and when it did, there was no gentleness, no slowness at all. Like every time before, Ethan’s mouth worked hard, eager and desperate to take all that I would give. He acted starved, his body so hungry to feast on me. “I’ve never tasted anything like you. I wanted to keep at it, keep tasting you because, Aly, I don’t think I’ll ever be full. Not of you.”