Dating and Other Dangers (13 page)

‘Shut up,’ she said, sounding bored. ‘I’m watching the movie.’

As if to prove it, she turned the volume up a notch.

Even though his eyes were closed he grinned, loving the way she was being so nice to him—in her fashion. He just needed a short
snooze and then he’d be all over her. Oh, he so would.

‘Ethan?’

Nadia stared down at him in amazement. He’d hooked his legs up on the sofa, his feet dangling off the end, and he’d lain down, using her lap as his pillow. Which was nice. And frustrating. Because now he didn’t answer. How could anyone fall asleep during a horror film? In less than three minutes?

She lifted her hand and tentatively stroked his jaw with the tips of her fingers, enjoying the rough stubble. Ethan Rush was an exhausted man. She sat back, scrunching a little deeper into the sofa so his ‘pillow’ was smoother.

An hour later the film had finished and she still wasn’t remotely sleepy. Nor had she watched much of the movie. No, she’d been completely tragic and watched him sleep—the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the long lashes shadowing his cheek. She was absurdly pleased he didn’t snore—it wasn’t as if that was relevant. It wasn’t as if she was going to spend the rest of her nights sleeping beside him. Even so, she was happy. And concerned. Because he was going to get a crick in his neck if he stayed like that much longer.

She stroked his temple, loving being able
to touch him so intimately. He didn’t stir, so she bent forward and whispered in his ear. ‘Ethan, wake up. You’re going to get so uncomfortable.’

Okay,
she
was uncomfortable. It wasn’t that his lying on her like this hurt, but it was hot. All she wanted was for him to wake up and play. But he was blissfully asleep and she couldn’t bring herself to try harder to rouse him—especially because doubt niggled that he might not want what she wanted when he woke.

She changed the TV to a music station and lowered the volume. She rested her head on the big cushions and stroked his head, trying to match her breathing to his so she’d get to be as calm and rested as he was.

‘Nadia?’

‘Mmm?’ Nadia sighed, lost in a really great dream.

‘Nadia?’

She roused, realising that the voice was real and very amused and very near. She looked down at the heavy, warm weight in her lap.

‘This is good.’ He smiled. The flickering light from the TV made his eyes twinkle too. ‘What are we doing here?’

‘You were too heavy to move to bed.’

‘You wanted me in your bed?’ He shifted, rolling to face towards her tummy.

Her muscles weakened. ‘Uh…um …’

‘I’ve missed you.’ His words were muffled, but still she heard the rawness. He pressed his face close to her, sliding his hands up her thighs, under the loose cotton of her boxer shorts.

Nadia shivered, half trying to suppress her tremoring nerves, but her body had lit with the lightest of touches and those few words. His hands caressed, and she couldn’t help relaxing, slightly spreading her knees wider so his fingers slid higher still. She swallowed, barely able to control her breathing, high on anticipation. Oh, she wanted his touch there—all the way there.

For a moment there was nothing else—just fingertips caressing skin, slowly taking the path already on fire for him. He suddenly lifted his head and looked around the room behind them.

‘What is it?’ She looked up to see what was catching his attention.

‘I’m looking for the treadmill,’ he teased. ‘You must have been exercising while I was sleeping. Your blood is pumping hot.’

In lifting his head up he’d made way for his fingers to surf even higher—which she
guessed was the whole point. So Nadia just spread her legs wider.

‘You’ve been lying with your head in my lap for the last five hours.’ Her panting mutter wasn’t as saucy as she’d intended. ‘I’m on fire.’

‘Oh, so it’s
me
making you this hot?’ He lay down on her again. ‘You like me this close?’

She smiled back—oh,
so
saucy now. ‘I’d like it better if you were awake and I was naked.’

‘Well, I am awake—but you don’t need to be naked.’ His touches went further, softer, teasing. One hand went north, sliding under her shirt, cupping her breasts, stroking her hard nipples. ‘No bra, no knickers,’ he groaned.

‘Boxers are knickers,’ she argued vaguely.

‘Loose,’ he murmured happily, his fingers pressing more firmly.

She pressed her head back on the sofa, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the ceiling. Her body was so hungry for him—all slippery and hot, welcoming the slide of his fingers, the rub of his thumb. She bit on her lip and suddenly pressed her knees close, trapping his hand as waves of pleasure contracted
her muscles. It hit quick, hard, and it wasn’t enough.

‘Making you come is the ultimate turn-on,’ he muttered as he sat up. ‘And it’s so damn easy.’

Uh, yeah… Struggling to regain her breath, Nadia felt embarrassment rise. It was only easy because she was so insanely attracted to him. It was humiliating.

But then she noticed he was now standing, and basically ripping off his clothes.

‘What
are
you wearing?’ he asked.

Her humiliation faded as she heard how he snapped the question, saw how his hands were shaking as he fought to get a handful of condoms from his pocket. So he’d been prepared to come and see her?

She knelt up on the sofa and enjoyed the show. Her body was even warmer than before. The man had mus cles—everywhere—and they were all bunched. He glared at her tee shirt again. Had he only just noticed what it said?

‘It’s really offensive. Take it off.’ His jeans thudded to the floor. ‘Off, off,
off
,’ he demanded.

But before she could argue he issued another order.

‘Stand on the sofa.’

Nadia blinked. ‘Is this because I’m short?’

A muffled curse as he moved—fast, effortlessly—lifting her so she stood in front of him on the sofa. ‘No,’ he said curtly, whisking her tee shirt over her head and then her boxers to her ankles. ‘This is because I want to kiss you here.’ He licked her nipple and then sucked it into his mouth. ‘And then here.’ He moved, kissing down her sternum to her stomach.

‘Okay.’ Oh, more than okay. Oh, yes, yes,
yes
.

Between kisses he laughed—low, sexy—making her melt all the more. His hands dropped to her thighs and he pushed them apart. She shifted her feet to please him—only he kept pushing, and pushing, until she was standing with her feet as far apart as they would go. There was something about being bossed by him that was delicious. Her body was all soft and lax and malleable, while his was all hard and strong and ready to fire, and she couldn’t wait to find out how he was planning to do it.

So she stood on the sofa, her hands on his shoulders, while he stood before her, his feet on the floor. She could look him right in the eye—and his eyes were smiling. So she smiled too. His big hands held her thighs hard, keeping them wide but also giving her support.
A good thing because when he suddenly thrust—all the way in—her knees buckled. She hooked her hands tighter round his neck and held on for sweet mercy. But there was no mercy—he was big, and his movements were powerful, relentless, and awesomely good.

Nadia moaned, loving the completion, the friction as their bodies slid—locking and unlocking. She thrust with him, their position incredibly decadent and abandoned, and she relished the hedonism. Every movement hit better than the last, so in seconds she was breathless and barely coping with the surging sensations. His pelvic bone ground against hers, rubbing deliciously against her bliss button, sending her faster still towards breakpoint. Her so-sensitive breasts were flattened against his solid chest—more fantastic friction.

But the thing short-circuiting her completely was the way they stood nose to nose and eye to eye. Unbearably intimate. He kissed her—little teasing kisses broken by the occasional lush, deep one. She could see his passion, the raw, unbridled desire. It was so intense she had to close her eyes against it. She couldn’t believe that all the fiery want in his gaze was for her.

‘Look at me,’ he growled. ‘Let me see.’ As
he spoke he maintained his rhythm, driving her, knowing exactly what he was doing—how close she was. How moved she was—how much she wanted him. How good he made her feel—how much more he made her want.

And that was what he wanted—she knew. He wanted to see her hit orgasm. He wanted to miss nothing. He wanted all her secret wishes—and to know that he was the one who’d fulfilled them. And just that thought—that frightening, exhilarating thought—made her come all the quicker. Because it was
him
doing this to her.

Her body tautened, then convulsed as the waves tumbled over her—so powerful that for an instant she was scared. But then it was too good to think of anything but how incredible it was. She didn’t know if she cried out—all she could hear was the hiss of his satisfaction, the grit of his teeth as he held her through the rapturous storm and forced himself to stay that half-step behind her.

She sucked breaths in harder, unable to recover as he thrust more forcefully. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him so he couldn’t look away from her either. She half laughed, mostly cried with sensual
delight, as she saw the signs of unbearable strain in his face—the clenched muscles, the veins popping in his neck, the pained, desperate look in eyes that suddenly widened, but were blinded as it swamped him.

‘Oh, yes,’ she sobbed. Her blood pulsed—in her lips, in her most intimate nerve centre—as the sight and feel of him, so tortured by her, sent her back to the pinnacle of ecstasy.

His movements went wild. His body jerked as he lost the fight against holding off. He shouted—a raw, masculine response—as release surged and the moment of ultimate pleasure was his. All she could do then was cling.

His hands shifted, clasping round her middle, and he held on to her tightly, his forehead pressing into her shoulder. She felt his harsh, ragged breathing gusting down her sweat-soaked skin. Her own breathing was irregular, her brain dizzy. Her legs were completely wobbly. So did was her heart.

‘Are you going to let me go?’ she asked, her voice woefully small.

‘No.’ With sheer brute strength he lifted her, sliding one hand under her legs so he could carry her more comfortably. Dexterously,
between his third and fourth fingers, he scooped up another condom packet that had fallen on the edge of the sofa. ‘Which is your room?’

She directed him, and he walked with ridiculous ease. He placed her on the bed, but immediately followed with a smooth lunge. Taking the bulk of his weight on his elbows, he pressed his lower half firmly on hers—so she couldn’t escape.

‘Oh,’ she said, needing to strive for some kind of control in this shattering situation. ‘You want to be dominant?’

‘No,’ he breathed.

Nadia’s voice failed as she saw his burnt brown eyes had refilled with that passionate fire. He bent his head and kissed the last remaining brain cell out of her. His tongue swept into her mouth in gliding strokes, over and over, while his hands framed her face, holding her up to him—open. Yeah right he didn’t want to be dominant.

By the time he’d finished she was uncontrollably rocking her hips, grinding against him in a way that was desperate and hungry and unbelievably happy, running her hands up and down his slick, muscular back. He looked
down with smug satisfaction as she panted and writhed beneath him.

His low whisper positively purred. ‘You’re not running out on me again.’

L
IGHT
blasted through the window and Nadia sighed, reluctantly admitting to consciousness—because now she had to face the music. She rolled over. He was awake, propped up on a pillow, book in hand—looking totally at home.

‘What are you reading?’ She tried to act normal, but her croaky voice let her down.

He showed her the cover. ‘Found it on your shelf. It’s quite good.’

Groaning, she reached down beside the bed for her phone. She had to check Megan and Sam’s arrival time. She was panicking that she had their arrival time wrong and it was a.m., not p.m. The last thing she wanted was for them to walk in on her and Ethan like this. Megan would read too much into it. Nadia was having a hard enough time stopping herself from doing that.

‘What are you doing?’ His voice had a
slightly rough inflection too—so he wasn’t
that
engrossed in the book …

‘Updating my profile,’ she lied.

‘Of course you are,’ he said drily. ‘What are you saying?’

She tossed the phone away, satisfied her flatmate wouldn’t be arriving for another ten hours or so. ‘Nothing.’

He theatrically mirrored her action, tossing the book away and faced her. The sheet slipped to reveal his broad, bronzed, way too hot, chest. ‘So, Nadia, what do we do now?’

She had no idea. She’d bluff. ‘Shower?’

It was a good idea. Forty minutes later there was so much steam in the bathroom the extractor fan failed. The trip switch went when it was overworked, and it was totally overworked now.

‘Damn thing.’ Nadia pushed her wet hair out of her face and hunted for the stool to stand on so she could fix it.

With a grin Ethan nudged her out of the way, reached up and did it for her.

She glared at him. ‘Don’t treat me like some incompetent little girl.’

‘I’m not.’ He chuckled and held her still way too easily. ‘Don’t project your hang-ups onto me.’

‘I’m not.’ She wriggled, vainly trying to
escape. ‘But people see me and think I’m some doll who can’t manage anything on my own.’

‘Honey, I’m aware of all you can manage.’ His hands slipped into soft places. ‘But isn’t it nice to have help sometimes?’

‘I don’t want to be patronised. I can manage just fine alone.’

‘So you won’t admit to any physical limitations? But you have some, Nadia, and that’s not a bad thing.’

‘I refuse to be limited,’ she argued. ‘I can and will do anything. My parents didn’t want me to move to the city—never believed I’d get a job in a big firm like Hammond. But while I may not have the size, I
do
have the smarts.’

‘And you prove your power even more with your stabbing words on the internet?’ He shook his head reproachfully. ‘Why does it matter so much?

‘You’ve not spent your whole life fighting the assumption that you’re not as capable as the rest of the population because you’re short.’

‘Yeah, but proving your capability doesn’t have to mean all by yourself. You know,
some
things you have to have a partner for.’ He picked her up and demonstrated just how
much stronger he was—and what a ‘partner’ could do.

‘It’s not fair,’ she moaned.

‘Life isn’t fair. Yes, I’m physically stronger than you—but there are benefits to that. Benefits you enjoy.’

She knew he was teasing, to turn her flash of anger into amusement. And it was working—because he was so right. ‘Oh, really?’ Her protest sounded as pathetic to her ears as it must be to his. Secretly she loved his size and strength. It was as if she’d been programmed to seek out the biggest piece of masculinity she could and cling to him. And Ethan was certainly that.

‘It turns you on when I press you deep into the bed,’ he muttered, kissing her neck. ‘You like being lifted by me like this just as much as I like lifting you. But even big guys like me have vulnerabilities, you know. Everybody does.’

‘Oh, you do?’ She suspected he actually did. She just wished she knew and understood them. ‘Tell me more.’

‘And give you power over me?’ He chuckled. ‘Never.’

‘You don’t think I have power over you already?’ She aimed to tease him back.

Their gaze met and held. And held some more.

‘Why don’t you find out?’ he invited eventually, wickedness flaring in his eyes.

Yeah, he always brought it back to sex, didn’t he? Any time the conversation got a little too close to the bone, too personal, too emotionally intimate for him, he kissed or teased his way out of it.

But right this second she was happy to let him away with it.

An hour later Ethan took another quick shower, and wandered out towel-clad to find her in front of her computer, busily tapping away. He pulled up a chair next to her and unashamedly watched her work.

‘It’s a pretty impressive machine.’ The screen was huge.

‘Yeah.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Cost a bomb.’

She was going through the million e-mails that had landed last night, checking all the comments that had been posted on WomenBWarned were okay, answering queries and direct messages. She was incredibly organised. There were tonnes of folders, the titles of which amused him—especially the ‘Feedback—Excellent’ and the ‘Feedback—Aw ful’ ones.

‘Which one has more messages in it?’ he asked, pointing to them.

‘Which do you think?’ She laughed, standing to answer the ringing phone. ‘Oh, hi Megan …’

Ethan tuned out of her phone conversation as he read the e-mail that was next up to be sorted.

Great—another scorned and furious harpy. Shaking his head, Ethan resisted the urge to hit ‘delete’ and instead pulled the message into the ‘suggestions’ folder, as Nadia had done with the previous one on a similar theme. Then he started reading the next e-mail.

Nadia’s arm reached past him to the mouse and the e-mail was pulled into a folder. ‘Some of the messages aren’t on the public forum,’ she said quietly. ‘There are some private threads.’

‘Of course.’ He leaned away from the screen and realised he’d been holding his breath for some unknown reason. He pushed the stale air from his lungs. ‘That’s awful.’

‘Yeah.’ Nadia sat beside him again.

‘How do you know what to say to someone who’s been through that?’

She clicked through a couple more e-mails. ‘It’s not so much about offering answers. I mean, what answers can there be? There’s no cute line anyone can say to fix that. But I can give what she says—space and a place to have a voice. I link to lots of resources, and there are other women who’ve been through
similar experiences who speak up. I’m not a counsellor. I guess I facilitate. But, yeah—’ she looked glum ‘—some women deal with way worse than a stupid virginity collector.’

That was true. But what had happened to Nadia had also been horrible. And if Ethan ever came across Rafe Buxton in real life he’d have to be forcibly restrained from doing violence to the bastard. But if he did punch the guy out Nadia would probably commit some form of violence on
him
—she was so determined to take care of herself and not have any help or protection. Especially not from a big guy like him. As if that was the worst thing ever. But he couldn’t stop that need rising in him—that
caring
.

Oh, hell. Ethan glanced at her profile and took in the shadows under her eyes. He knew she needed some recovery time and all of a sudden so did he—but it wasn’t physical rest he needed, more mental and emotional. He didn’t know what to think about anything any more.

‘I should probably get going.’ Contrarily, he instantly hoped she’d tell him to stay.

‘Okay.’ She nodded and kept focusing hard on the screen. ‘My flatmate gets back tonight, and we’ve got a big catch-up planned.’

‘Yeah, of course,’ he said, battling
disappointment and failing. He glanced briefly at the message she was reading.

Ethan pushed away from the table, found his clothes, and went to her bedroom. He didn’t want to know what Nadia’s response to that one would be. Did being the son of a slimeball make you a slimeball too?

‘Ethan?’ Nadia stood in the doorway.

Ethan bent and pulled on his shoes, concentrating on his laces. ‘My dad cheated on my mum all the time. Eventually he ran off with one of his “assistants”. Then he cheated on her too. Every relationship he has, ends with him cheating. But Jess has married, and Tom is the last guy on this earth who’d do that. You should e-mail that woman and tell her. It’s not some hereditary thing. Patterns don’t have to repeat like that.’ Not for Jess, or Polly. And not for him—because he’d made the decision
to be different. Only now he didn’t know if he’d been any better—if he
could
ever be any better.

Nadia blinked. ‘Okay.’ She took a step into the room. ‘When did they divorce?’

Ethan straightened and walked back out to the lounge, picked up his bag. ‘I was fourteen. It was a relief.’ He wished his mother had thrown Matthew out sooner.

‘Why—?’

‘Nadia, I don’t want to talk about it.’ What did she want to know? How he’d heard his mother’s tears late at night for years? How he and Jess and Polly had tried to get their father’s attention and never could compete with the bright young bimbos at the studio? How Ethan had worked so hard to make his mum smile?

‘I know that.’ Nadia looked him square in the eye. ‘But maybe you should.’

He almost smiled. But he said nothing. She really didn’t want to hear his sob story. He couldn’t think of a bigger turn-off. He was so much better at making her smile.

She walked with him to the door to see him off. ‘Bye,’ she said. ‘It was …’

‘Don’t say
nice
.’ His feelings were even more mixed-up. ‘Have fun with your flatmate tonight,’ he said.

‘I will.’ She smiled, but he could see she was biting back questions.

He didn’t want to go, but she had her own friends and her own life and it was busy. So busy there wasn’t as much room in it for him as he suddenly wanted. She put so much of herself into her work, her forum, her friends… So what? Now he was feeling jealous of those things? Clearly he needed more sleep.

When they’d finally sated themselves in the small hours last night, she’d curled into a little ball and slept like the dead. He’d woken too early and waited for ages, willing her to wake up, but it had taken so long he’d had to find something to read to keep himself from bothering her. He hadn’t wanted to disturb her when she looked so tired.

And he didn’t want to bother her now. Much.

He bent and kissed her. The way her lips clung made him feel better. Yeah, the sex was good. And that was all he wanted, right?

Well, no. Not any more.

Dissatisfied, Ethan walked home alone. He worked for a while. Spoke to a few mates. Decided on a quiet Saturday night in—the first in ages. And he spent it in front of his computer.
Megan lounged on the sofa looking like a totally pampered cat. ‘It was the best three weeks of my life,’ she purred. ‘The absolute best.’

Nadia laughed—three weeks sailing round the Greek Islands with a lover wouldn’t be bad, would it?

‘So tell me about yours?’ Now Megan looked completely feline—and sly.

Nadia had tried hard to keep Megan talking about herself, but Megan wasn’t being denied any longer. She had her iPad on her lap, and was scrolling through the nightmare that was Ethan’s blog.

‘Did you know he’s put up another message?’

‘He has?’ Nadia’s heart raced. She’d hoped they were just going to forget about the blogs. She’d been gearing up to delete hers. But there it was.

Well, what did
that
mean?

‘Are you up for sharing, Nadia?’ Megan asked, her sly tone gone quiet. And curious.

Nadia shook her head. She’d already shared way too much of herself these last twenty-four hours—with him.