Prodigal Son (30 page)

“Let’s drink one of mine. It’s the least I can do, since you’ve supplied the meal.”

“Your call.”

She busied herself with opening the bottle and getting out wineglasses. Then she joined him at the kitchen table. Her plate was heaped with food, all of which looked ridiculously good. She slid his wine across the table and watched as his long fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

“Thanks.” He smiled faintly and it hit her that the last man who’d sat at this table and eaten a meal with her was Jacob.

“Why are you here?” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but she needed to know.

Ethan was slicing his chicken but he put down his knife and fork and looked at her. “I felt like crap and I figured you might, too. So I thought I’d bribe my way through the door with chicken.”

She frowned. “You didn’t need to bribe your way in.”

“Didn’t I?” His blue eyes were searching.

“No. You’re disappointed, aren’t you?”

She’d let him down. Led him on a merry dance then left him gasping like a landed fish.

“Of course. Aren’t you? If we were both a little more ruthless, we might have been shopping for a home pregnancy test in a few weeks’ time.”

“No, we wouldn’t. I’ve already got one. A double pack, just to make sure.”

“Exactly my point. We invested a lot of time and energy in this.”

She looked down at her plate, away from the sadness in his face. He felt the same way she did. And he’d sought her out to both give and take comfort.

“You’re a nice man, Ethan Stone,” she said quietly, glancing up at him again.

“Let’s not get too carried away.”

Good advice, Alex. Listen to the man.

He deliberately changed the subject then and they talked about work and the day’s political news. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was simply Ethan, with his easy charm and distracting wit, but by the time they were pushing aside their plates she was feeling decidedly more mellow.

She was glad he’d come. A dangerous admission to make, even to herself, but it was true.

They moved to the living room after she’d cleared the table and she raided her chocolate-cookie stash for dessert while Ethan opened the second bottle of wine. She found him examining her teapot collection when she returned to the living room with a plateful of Tim Tams and other indulgences.

“This is my favorite, I think. Although the one shaped like a cat is pretty damned cool,” he said.

“The cabbage was a lucky find. But that cat… I nearly broke an old lady’s arm to get that teapot.”

“Excellent. Tell me everything.” He rubbed his hands together with exaggerated anticipation.

So she told him how she’d spotted the teapot at the same time as a purple-haired old lady at a yard sale and how they’d both reached for it at the same time but she’d been a trifle faster off the mark and the old lady had lunged across the table at her and refused to let go until the woman running the sale had to step in to adjudicate.

Ethan was wiping tears from his eyes by the time she’d finished. She’d always loved making him laugh but tonight it felt like a special achievement.

“Alex. That’s priceless. A million other women would have bowed to her brittle bones and handed the damned thing over but not you.”

“Old people are just normal people with more wrinkles. Why should they be granted a get-out-of-jail-free cards on things like courtesy and finders keepers? Besides, it turned out she thought it was a dog, not a cat. When she put her glasses on she was more than happy to let it go.”

She had her feet curled up beside her on the couch and had been rubbing her arches absently throughout her story. Ethan slid his wineglass onto the coffee table in front of him, then stood and crossed to sit on the end of her couch.

“Come on. Give them here,” he said.

It took her a moment to understand what he intended.

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“I give a mean foot massage, Alex. It’s about the only thing Cassie and I could ever agree on.” He held up his thumbs and wiggled them in the air. “Magic thumbs.”

She shook her head again. No way was she lying on her couch while Ethan rubbed her feet. It was way, way too intimate.

“I’m really ticklish. I’ll only wind up giggling like an idiot.”

“Clearly you’ve only had substandard massages in the past. Come on.”

She started to object again but he simply circled her right ankle with one of his big hands and pulled her foot into his lap.

“Hey!”

“Shut up and take your medicine.”

He started rubbing her foot then and it felt so good that even though she knew she should pull free and maybe even send him home before she forgot that tonight was about mutual sympathy and not…anything else, she subsided back onto the cushions and closed her eyes.

“Not ticklish?” he asked after a minute or so.

She cracked an eyelid. He was looking very pleased with himself.

“Strong thumbs, my backside,” she muttered.

He laughed, the sound very low, and she closed her eyes again and didn’t even try to suppress her own smile. And she didn’t resist fifteen minutes later when he switched to her left foot, rubbing the tension from her arches and making her wish she had a third and even a fourth foot to offer him so she could prolong the experience.

Twenty minutes later it occurred to her that Ethan had stopped the massage a while ago and she opened her eyes to find him collecting his car keys from the coffee table.

“That was sneaky,” she said drowsily. “I didn’t even feel you move.”

“I took origami lessons when I was a kid.”

She was so out of it it took her a moment to understand he was joking. “Origami. Funny.”

“I thought so.”

She started to sit up.

“Stay where you are. I’ll see myself out.”

“I can’t let you cook me dinner then rub my feet for hours on end and not see you out.”

“Yes, you can. Stay where you are. That’s an order.”

He’d crossed to the couch to stand over her and she stared up at him mutinously.

“If I’m supposed to be intimidated by the looming-over-me thing, you can think again.”

She stood, only realizing when she did so that it meant they were standing chest to chest, only a few inches between them.

“I won’t ask if anyone has ever told you you’re a pain in the ass. You’ll only take it as a compliment,” Ethan said.

She tried to take a step backward, but the couch was against her heels and she lost her balance. His hand closed around her upper arm to stop her fall. He was smiling, clearly amused by her.

“Idiot,” he said.

Then he lowered his head and kissed her once, very hard, on the mouth.

He looked as surprised as she was when he lifted his head. For a moment they stared at each other, then Ethan’s gaze slid to her mouth again.

“Alex,” he said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

He lowered his head again. This time his lips were gentle on hers, the pressure more a question than an expression of frustration. For a moment they stood locked together, neither of them moving, joined only by their mouths and his hand on her arm. Then she parted her lips the tiniest fraction. The merest hint of an invitation. He sighed and slid his hand to the nape of her neck and opened his mouth over hers.

He tasted of chocolate and wine, and she made an approving, needy sound as his tongue stroked hers. Her hands reached blindly for him, finding his broad shoulders, pulling him closer. And then, somehow, they were on the couch, Ethan’s big body on top of hers, his hands gliding over her as their kiss became more and more intense. She whimpered as his hand cupped first one breast then the other, his thumb sliding over and over each nipple in turn until they were both hard and eager and she was quivering beneath him.

It had been eighteen months since she’d felt a man’s weight on top of her and she’d spent the better part of the past month living in the pocket of one of the sexiest men she’d ever known. So maybe it wasn’t any wonder that she was on fire for him now. She’d always found him attractive. Always. She’d noticed his powerful body, she’d eyed his mouth and long fingers and imagined… And now he was kissing her and his hand was sliding beneath her top, pushing her bra out of the way, and he was breaking their kiss to lower his head to take her nipple into his mouth.

She clutched at his shoulders as the wet heat of his mouth engulfed her. It felt so good.
He
felt so good.

She arched her back, offering him her other breast, sliding her fingers into his hair when he turned his head and pulled her nipple into his mouth.

Somewhere, in a very dark, distant corner of her mind a warning knell sounded. This was Ethan. A fellow partner. And, more than that, her friend. A friend who had made his feelings about relationships painfully clear.

She knew she should push him away and call a halt, but she wasn’t even close to being strong enough to deny the need thrumming through her body. She’d wanted him for so long.

She parted her legs and lifted her hips and Ethan didn’t need to be asked twice to take up her silent invitation. His hips pressed into the cradle of her thighs and she wrapped her legs around his waist and rubbed herself against the hard length of him.

“Alex,” Ethan said again, pressing his erection against her where she needed it the most.

She circled her hips, willing two layers of denim to oblivion but unwilling to lose the delicious pressure of his hips against hers for the short time it would take to get undressed.

They kissed and caressed and rubbed against each other for long minutes. Alex was so turned on, so achingly ready for him that it almost hurt. She was the one who reached for the stud on his jeans, and she was the one who slid her hand beneath the soft cotton of his boxer briefs to find the hard, resilient shaft of his erection. He shuddered as she wrapped her hand around him and stroked her hand up and down his length. She felt him fumble at the stud on her jeans and she forgot to breathe as his palm slid over her belly and down, down, until his fingers were delving between her thighs.

He stroked her while she stroked him, their mouths locked in a searching, never-ending kiss. She was seconds away from her first heavy-petting-on-the-couch climax in years when Ethan broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

“Alex. I need—”

“Yes,” she said, already starting to peel her jeans down over her hips.

His weight left her for a brief moment as they both shed their jeans, then she heard the small, significant crackle of a foil pack before Ethan was on top of her again, his bare legs warm and slightly rough against her own as they tangled together on the couch. He ran his hand down the side of her hip, wrapped his fingers around the outside of her left thigh and lifted her leg up and to the side. She felt the firm probe of his erection at her entrance and she lifted her hips in welcome. Then he was inside her and there was nothing in the world except for the exquisite friction of his body moving within hers.

They rocked together, neither saying a word. Alex held her breath and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, chasing the licks of pleasure racing through her body. Ethan pressed his face into her neck and opened his mouth against her skin, sucking and licking as his thrusts became more and more urgent. One of his hands teased her breasts, the other gripped her hip, his fingers pressing into her flesh.

He shifted position.
So close. So close.

She caught her breath, arched her back. And then she was there. Her hands clutched at his backside, holding him high and still inside her as she lost herself for a few precious seconds. Only when the waves of pleasure had passed and she’d relaxed her grip did he begin to move again, his thrusts deep and powerful. She felt the tension spike in him. Then he pressed his cheek against hers and shuddered out his own climax, the stubble of his whiskers a welcome roughness against her skin.

Neither of them said anything in the immediate aftermath. Ethan kept his face pressed into the curve of her neck. She stared at the ceiling over his shoulder. Where before there had been nothing but him and her and the maddening, crazy-making feel of his body against hers, she was suddenly aware of the fact that a couch button was jabbing into her backside and that they were both breathing hard and that her bra was pushed uncomfortably up around her armpits.

She was also hugely, painfully aware that what had happened between them had the potential to change everything. She didn’t do casual sex—never had—and she had no plans to start now. But this was Ethan. Her friend and colleague—and the most commitment-shy man she knew.

Unless…

Don’t. Don’t go there. You know Ethan. You know what he wants—and it isn’t this.

But it was too late. Hope was already unfolding inside her.

She was a smart woman. She knew Ethan was a bad bet. Whatever had gone on within his marriage had wounded him, badly. But she liked him. She liked him a lot. And right now they were lying skin to skin on her couch. He was still inside her. She knew he liked her. He’d cooked her dinner and brought it to her house and shown her in a hundred different ways over the course of their friendship that he admired and respected her.

Was it so crazy to imagine that maybe this could be the beginning of something and not just a really, really inappropriate outlet for weeks of tension and expectation?

Ethan lifted his head. They looked into each other’s eyes. His expression was unreadable.

Which said something in and of itself, didn’t it?

“I’m too heavy,” Ethan said quietly, and she felt the loss as he withdrew from her and rolled to one side.

She watched silently as he stood, his body supremely sexy despite the fact that he was still wearing his shirt and socks. She glanced at his retreating backside—perfect, like the rest of him—as he went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, then she sat up and pushed her hair from her forehead.

She stared blankly at the wall for a beat, her brain not quite up to speed yet, her body still warm and flushed from his touch. Then she heard the sound of his footfall in the hall and realized she should have used his absence to get dressed instead of sitting in a postcoital daze.