[ Truyện Tiếng Anh] Naked

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“But I can’t stay the ni—”

His mouth swallowed my protests as he stretched me out on his soft, plush bed and started touching my body. Kissing my body. Heating my body until any conscious thought I had before this point fled my brain and kept on going. I was breaking my rules and I was very aware of that fact as Ethan’s tongue swirled over my hardened ni**les, alternating between little scrapes of teeth followed by soft stroking to soothe what he’d done.

The contrast from the brush of whiskers on his goatee to the caress of his soft lips made me soar. I felt like I would orgasm just from what he was doing. The pleasure made me cry out and arch. My legs scissored as he worked on my br**sts, unable to keep still, I was wild and abandoned beneath Ethan. He felt so good I couldn’t regret this decision. All my reservations deferred to the exquisite workout he was giving my body and fled without another thought.

Being naked is not terrifying for me. I’ve done it a lot for the modeling and I know that men find my shape pleasing. It’s the intimacy that is harder for me to process. So when Ethan says a thing like ‘let me make love to you, beautiful Brynne’ I knew I didn’t have a chance.

“Ethan?” I cried out his name.

“I know, baby. Let me take care of you.” He pulled back from my br**sts and put his hands on the inside of my knees and opened me up. Totally spread before him, he stared down at my *** for the second time tonight. “Christ, you’re beautiful…I want a taste of that.”

And then he put his mouth on me. That soft tongue rolled over my clit and my folds and caressed. I could feel his goatee pricking the sensitive flesh as I writhed against his lips and tongue. I would come in a second and there was no stopping it. There was no stopping Ethan. He took what he wanted.

“I’m coming…”

“The first of many times, baby,” he said from down between my legs.

And then two of his long fingers pushed their way inside me and started stroking. “You’re tight,” he rasped, “but when it’s my c**k in you, you’ll be tighter, won’t you, Brynne?” He kept finger f**king me and flicking his tongue over my clit. “Won’t you?” He asked again, this time more forceful.

I felt the rush, the tightening begin deep inside my belly as it started. “Yes!” I cried out in a push of air, knowing he expected an answer.

“Come for me then. Come for me, Brynne!”

And I did, the experience unlike any orgasm I’d ever had. I couldn’t do anything else but come. Ethan pushed me to the edge and then caught me when I went over. I crested the wave of ecstasy pinned down with his fingers deep in my pu**y holding me there. It was shattering in its brilliance and I could do nothing but accept what he gave me.

His fingers slipped out of me and I heard the sound of a packet being ripped open. I watched him roll the condom down his thick, beautiful, rigid, ****. The part of him that would be deep inside me in a minute, and I shivered in expectation.

He lifted his blue eyes to mine and whispered, “Now, Brynne. Now I’m having you.”

I sobbed at the image of him mounting me, the anticipation so great I was barely coherent.

Ethan loomed over me, the head of his ***** tipped inside my pu**y already, burning hot and hard as bone. His hips forced me wider as he sank his c**k down deep and true. He took my mouth, thrusting his tongue simultaneous in movement with his intrusion down low. I was taken by Ethan Blackstone in his bed. Totally and irrevocably.

I rode the wave as Ethan rode me. He did it hard at first. Pounding pulls in and out of my soaked core that went a little deeper on every stroke. I felt myself striving toward another orgasm.

The veins on his neck bulged as he propped himself up to get at me from another angle.

I squeezed my pu**y around his pummeling c**k while he worked me hard. He made all kinds of sounds and whispered dirty talk about how good it felt to f**k me. It just made me wilder.

“Ethan!” I shouted his name, coming a second time, my body in total surrender of his much larger and harder one as I shook and writhed in abandon.

He didn’t stop. He kept on drilling me until it was his turn to orgasm. Neck straining, eyes burning, he took me harder still. I stretched to accommodate his length and girth as he grew a little tighter. I knew he was close.

I squeezed the walls of my vagina as forcefully as I had ever done and felt him go rigid. Groaning out a guttural noise that sounded like a cross between my name and a war cry, Ethan shuddered over me with his blue eyes glowing in the dim of the room. He never took his eyes from mine when he came inside me.

5

Ethan still kept his eyes on me. Even after we settled down from the rush of the ***, and after he’d left my body. He pulled off the condom, tied it and got rid of the evidence. But then he was right back, facing me again, his eyes moving over me, looking for my reaction to what we’d just done together.

“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing his thumb over my lips, tracing them ever so gently.

I smiled at him and answered in a slow voice, “Uh huh.”

“I’m not even close to being finished with you yet.” He dragged his hand down my neck, over a breast, across my hip to rest on my stomach. “That was—so amazing, I don’t—I don’t want this to be over.” He left his hand splayed there and leaned forward to kiss me slowly and thoroughly, almost reverently. I could tell he was going to ask for something. “Are you—do take birth control, Brynne?”

“Yes,” I whispered against his lips. I was right. He would be surprised at the reason but I wasn’t sharing that information tonight.

“I want—I want to come inside you. I want to be here with nothing in between.” He pressed his fingers in my slick folds and stroked back and forth. “Right here.”

His words were a surprise though. Most men didn’t want to take the chance. My body reacted to his touch without volition, unable to keep from flexing toward his fingers. A sound of pleasure came from my throat.

“My corporation—regular medicals for everyone—we have to be fit, including me. I can show you the report, Brynne, I’m clean I promise,” he said, nuzzling at my neck and sliding long purposeful fingers over my tingling clit.

“But what if I’m not?” I panted.

He frowned and stilled his hand. “How long had it been since you’ve…been with someone?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, a long time.”

He narrowed his eyes just a fraction. “Like a week-long time, or months-long time?”

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A week is so not a long time. Why I answered him, I have no idea other than it was part and parcel of what you got with Ethan. He demanded answers, he asked pointed questions, he just had a way about him that was nearly impossible for me to ignore when he probed into places I didn’t want him to go. “Months,” was my answer and as detailed as he would get right now.

His face relaxed. “So…is that a yes?” He rolled fully on top of me and trapped my hands intertwined with his, his knees splitting my legs wide open so he could settle in between them. “Because I want you again. I want in you again. I want to make you come with my c**k so deep you’ll never forget I was there. I want to come inside you, Brynne, and feel that with you.” I could feel him huge right now; hard, hot, probing me, and ready to sink in all the way. And vulnerable as I was beneath him, in this moment I’d never felt more secure.

He kissed me deep, his tongue claiming me like before. It was a demonstration of what he wanted to do with his ****. I understood him very clearly most of the time. Ethan was not confusing in the slightest.

“I trust you, Ethan, and you won’t get me pregnan—”

“****…yeeees,” he moaned on a thick slide of his bare c**k against the still tingling walls of my ***. “Oh, baby, you feel so good. I’m—I am so f**king lost in you right now…”

And that was how it went with him the second time. He moved slower this round, more controlled like he wanted to savor the experience. It was no less satisfying either because Ethan made me come more times until I was nothing but a limp vessel for his driving flesh.

He felt bigger inside me, harder, his balls slapping my drenched slit with every slide, and then he froze, his spine curving on a beautiful downward penetration that connected us so deeply I felt he was a part of me in that instant.

Ethan choked out my name and stayed buried just like he’d said he wanted to, and then a few, small, short jerks to milk everything from his tip until he stopped completely, breathing heavy and still between my legs.

He sucked lightly at my neck as I stroked over his back, the smooth muscles hot and damp with sweat. The room smelled like *** and whatever his delicious cologne was. I really needed to find out the name of it. I felt uneven ridges under my fingertips. Lots of them. Like scars? He shifted off me and my hands fell away. I knew better than to ask.

But he didn’t go far. Ethan moved to his side and propped himself up and stared at me some more. “Thank you for that,” he whispered, tracing my face with one fingertip, “and for trusting me.” He smiled at me again. “I love that you’re here in my bed.”

“How long has it been since someone was in this bed with you, Ethan?” If he could ask, then so could I.

He grinned, looking very smug. “It’s been since…never, my darling. I don’t bring women here.”

“Last I checked I was a woman.”

He raked suggestive eyes over my body before answering. “Definitely a woman.” He met my eyes. “But still, I don’t bring other women here.”

“Oh…” I sat up against the headboard, pulling the sheet to my br**sts. How in the hell is that not a lie? “That surprises me. I would think that you’d get more offers than you could possibly use.”

He tugged the sheet down and revealed my br**sts. “Don’t destroy my view, please and the operative word is use, my sweet. I don’t care for being used and women use men just as often as the other way ‘round.” He curled up beside me against the headboard and traced over a breast with one finger. “But I don’t mind if you use me. You get a special pass.”

I snorted and removed his hand. “You are far too handsome for your own good, Ethan—and you know it. That British charm will not get you a free pass with me on any day.”

He made a sarcastic noise. “And you are one tough Yank. I thought I was going to have to pick you up and throw you in my car that night.”

“It’s fortunate you didn’t or this nice shag we’ve just enjoyed? Never would’ve happened.” I shook my head slowly with a smile.

He tickled me at the ribs and made me squeal. “So it was just a nice shag for you, huh?”

“Ethan!” I batted his hands away and scrambled to the edge of the bed.

He dragged me back and pinned me beneath him, a huge grin on his face. “Brynne,” he drawled.

And then he kissed me. Just slow and soft and gentle, but it felt intimate and special. Ethan settled me against his side and adjusted our bodies under the sheets, his heavy arm draped over and securing me. I felt myself grow sleepy in the warm bed with him. I knew it was a bad idea. Rules are rules and I was breaking them.

“I shouldn’t stay the night, Ethan; I really need to go…”

“No, no, no, I want you here with me,” he insisted, speaking into my hair.

“But I shouldn’t—”

“Shhhhhhh,” he interrupted me like he had many times before and kissed my words away. He stroked over my head, trailing his fingers through my hair. I couldn’t fight him. Not after tonight. The security felt too wonderful, my body too drained from all the orgasms, his hard strength too comfortable for me to battle him on the issue. So I slept.

…The terrors are real. They come in the night when I sleep. I try to fight them but they nearly always win. Everything is dark because my eyes are closed. But I hear the sounds. Cruel words about someone, disgusting words and names. And terrifying laughter… They think it’s funny to degrade this person. My body feels heavy and weak. Still I hear them laughing and replaying all of the evil they have done…

I woke up screaming and alone in Ethan’s bed. I figured out where I was when he came crashing into the bedroom, eyeballs wide. I started crying the minute I saw him. The sobs just got louder when he sat on the bed and grabbed me.

“It’s okay—I’ve got you.” He rocked me against his chest. Ethan was dressed and I was still naked. “You just had a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Where did you go?” I managed to ask in between gasps.

“I was just in my office—these f**king Olympics—I work at night lately...” He pressed his lips to my head. “I was right here the whole time until you fell asleep.”

“You should have taken me home! I told you I wouldn’t stay the night!” I struggled to get out of his arms.

“Christ, Brynne, what is the problem? It’s two a.m. in the bloody morning. You are exhausted. Can’t you just—why won’t you sleep here?”

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“I don’t want it. It’s too much! I can’t do it, Ethan!” I pushed against his chest.

“Jesus Christ! You let me bring you to my house and f**k you wildly but you won’t sleep in my bed for a few hours?” He brought his face down to mine. “Talk. Why are you scared here with me?”

He looked hurt and sounded more than a little offended. And I felt like a cruel bitch on top of being an emotional, f**ked-up mess. He also looked beautiful in his faded jeans and soft grey t-shirt. His hair was all mussed and he needed a shave around his goatee, but he looked as devastatingly gorgeous as usual, even more so because I was seeing the intimate Ethan, the one he did not show in public.

I started crying again and telling him I was sorry. I really meant it too. I was sorry that parts of me were damaged and broken but it didn’t change the facts either.

“I’m not scared with you. It’s so complicated, Ethan. I’m—I am sorry!” I scrubbed at my face.

“Shhhhhhh…there’s nothing to be sorry for. You just had a bad dream.” Ethan reached for a box of tissue beside the bed and handed it to me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I managed to sputter through three tissues.

“That’s fine, Brynne. When you feel comfortable you can if you want to.” His hand rubbing circles on my back felt wonderful, I just didn’t want to close my eyes again in case I fell back to sleep. He pulled me down on the mattress with him. “Let me hold you for a while?”

I nodded.

“I’ll be right here until you fall asleep and if you wake and you don’t see me, I’m just across the main room in my office. The light will be on. I would never leave you alone in my house. You’re totally safe here with me. Security guy, remember?”

I grabbed more tissues and blew my nose; utterly wreaked and mortified at the situation. I did my best to bluff my way out of it though, and I knew what I was going to do. I gave a soft laugh at his joke and let him tuck me back into his bed. I faced his chest and breathed in the scent I absolutely loved and tried to remember how beautiful it was. I focused on the feel of Ethan holding me safe, and the warmth of his big body. I tried to capture it all in my head, because I would not get this experience again.

I pretended to fall sleep.

I evened my breathing and faked it. And after a while I felt him slide off the bed and slip out of the room. I even heard the sound of his bare feet padding across the wooden floor. I watched the clock and gave it another five minutes before I got up.

I walked out into Ethan’s living room buck-ass naked and scooped up my clothes. I removed his deep purple tie from the pile and smoothed it before draping it over the arm of his sofa, folded in half. I wished I could take it with me as a remembrance.

I got myself dressed quickly in front of the huge glass window and held my shoes in my hand rather than put them on my feet. I picked up my duffel and headed for the door. I could feel his se**n wet between my legs, draining out, and the thought made me want to weep. Everything felt wrong now. I had ruined it.

Once I was out the front door, I ran for the elevator and pushed the call button. I shoved my shoes on my feet and dug around in my bag for a brush. I dragged that brush through my I’ve-just-been-****ing hair in brutal sweeps. The poor tangled mess didn’t stand a chance but it was better than nothing. The lift arrived and I hopped on, stowing my brush and checking my wallet for cab fare as I descended.

When I emerged into the lobby the doorman greeted me. “May I assist you, madam?”

“Err…yes, Claude? I need to get home. Can you help me hire a cab?” I sounded desperate even to my ears. No telling what Claude might be thinking.

He did not show the slightest reaction though as he picked up a phone. “Ahhh, there we have one coming in now.” Setting down the phone, Claude came around from behind his desk and held the lobby door open for me. He helped me to the cab and shut me in. I thanked him, gave the driver my address and looked out the window.

The view into the elegant lobby was clear at night so I could see when Ethan burst out of the elevators and spoke to Claude. He ran outside but my cab was already in motion. He threw up his arms in frustration and rolled his head back. I could see his feet were still bare. I could see the look of confusion and utter despair on his face when our eyes met—me inside the car and him on the street. I could see Ethan. And it was probably the last time I ever would.

6

The glorious smell of coffee woke me up. I looked at my alarm clock and knew there would be no Waterloo Bridge run this morning. I came out to the kitchen with my arm over my eyes.

“Just how you like it, Bree, sweet and creamy.” My sometime roommate and dear friend Gabrielle slid the mug in my direction, the expression on her face clearly readable. Start spilling the dish, sister, and I won’t hurt you.

I love Gaby but this thing with Ethan had so derailed me I just wanted to bury the knowledge of its existence and pretend he’d never happened.

I reached for the steaming mug and inhaled the delicious scent. It reminded me of him for some reason and I felt the bubble of emotion rise up strong. I sat down at the kitchen bar and crowded around my coffee mug like a mother hen protecting her chick. As I lowered onto the stool, the tenderness between my legs just served as another reminder. A reminder of Ethan and his hot body and model looks and the fabulous ***…and how I’d woken up in his bed hysterical. I gave up the joke of trying to be brave and let the tears come.

It took some time, two cups of coffee, and a move to the couch to get the story out of me. But Gaby is pretty good that way. She’s relentless.

“I silenced your phone two hours ago. That duffel bag was making so much damn noise I wanted to kick it.” Gabrielle stroked my head resting on her shoulder. “You’ve got voicemails and text messages up the wazoo. I think the poor thing was about to blow, so I saved it a cataclysmic death and shut the f**ker off.”

“Thank you, Gab. I’m so glad you’re here this morning.” And I meant that. She was like me in a lot of ways. A California native in London, studying conservancy and running from **** back home that haunted her. The only difference was that her father actually lived in London so she was not totally on her own here in the UK. We’d found each other during that first week of classes nearly four years ago and never really let go. She knew my dark secrets and I knew hers.

“Me too.” She patted me on the knee. “And you’re going to make an appointment with Dr. Roswell, and make plans to go clubbing with Benny and me, and a stop into Charbonnel et Walker so we can gorge ourselves on sinfully rich chocolate.” She tilted her head. “Sound good to you?”

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“It sounds divine.” I forced a smile and tried to pull myself together.

“And maybe you should give this guy a chance, Bree. He’s good in the sack and he wants you bad.”

I turned my fake smile into an authentic frown. “You’ve been gossiping with Ben.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Or at least call him back.” Gaby lowered her voice to a whisper. “He doesn’t know anything about your past...”

“I know.” And Gaby was right. Ethan didn’t know about me.

Gaby rubbed my arm.

“I wasn’t really mad or offended by him last night. I just had to get out of there. I woke up screaming in his bed and I—”

The urge to cry right now was just as strong as before. I tried to force the impulse down.

“But it sounds like he wanted to comfort you. He wasn’t trying to push you away, Bree.”

“But you should have seen his face when he burst into his bedroom with me howling like a lunatic. The way he looked at me…” I rubbed my temples. “He’s just so intense. I can’t explain him properly to you, Gab. Ethan is like nothing I have ever encountered and I don’t know if I could survive him. If last night is any indication then I sincerely doubt it.”

Gaby looked at me, her beautiful green eyes smiling with confidence. “You are much stronger than you think you are. I know this.” She nodded firmly. “You are going to go get ready for work and then after a productive day in service to the great masterworks of the University of London, you’re coming home to get ready for our night of decadent pleasures. Benny’s already on board.” She poked me in the shoulder with her finger. “Now move it, sister.”

“I knew it. Ben outted me the instant he could.” I smiled at her, the first genuine one I’d felt in twelve hours and heaved my ass off the sofa. “I’m on it, Gab,” I said, rubbing where she’d poked me, “I surrender.”

I’d been at work for a few hours when Rory came through the back with a vase of the most gorgeous deep purple dahlias I had ever seen. He marched up to me with a beaming smile on his face. “A delivery for you, Miss Brynne. You have an admirer it seems.”

Oh ****! I did a double take. The bow on the vase was not really a bow. It was his silk purple tie from last night. Ethan had given his tie to me after all.

“Thank you for delivering them back here to me, Rory. They are gorgeous.” My hand shook as I reached for the card on the plastic holder. I dropped it twice before I was able to read what he’d written.

Brynne, Last night was a gift.

Please forgive me for not

hearing what you were trying

to tell me. I am so sorry.

Yours,

E

I read his note a few dozen times and wondered what to do.

How did he manage to confuse me so readily? One moment I felt sure I needed to flee Ethan and the next I wanted to be with him again. I looked at my purple flowers once more and knew I most definitely needed to acknowledge his gift and that handwritten apology though. To ignore it would be cruel.

Text or call? That was a hard decision. Part of me wanted to hear Ethan’s voice, and another part was scared to hear mine when I tried to answer his questions. In the end, I went with a text and felt like a total wimp. I had to power up my phone first and the barrage of missed calls and message alerts that flashed when it turned on made me ill without even listening or reading. It was too much for me at the moment so I ignored everything and fired up a blank text screen.

Brynne Bennett: Ethan, the flowers r beautiful. Ty. I ♥ purple. –Brynne



As soon as I pressed send I contemplated turning my phone off but of course I didn’t. Curiosity killed the cat or in my case made me do stupid things.

I went over to the vase of my flowers instead and removed his tie from the arrangement. I put it up to my nose and inhaled. It had the smell. The ***y Ethan smell I adored. I was never giving this tie back to him. No matter what happened or what did not happen, the tie belonged to me now.

My phone lit up and started buzzing. My first instinct was to turn it off, but I’d known he’d call. And the selfish part of me wanted to hear him again. I put the phone up to my ear.

“Hi.”

“Do you really love purple?” The question made me smile.

“Very much so. The flowers are beautiful and I’m not returning your tie.”

“I f**ked up badly didn’t I?” His voice was soft and I could hear a rustling and then a breath exhaled.

“Are you smoking, Ethan?”

“Today more than usual.”

“A vice…you have one.” I traced over the tie spread out on my desktop.

“I have several I am afraid.” There was a moment of quiet and I wondered if he considered me one of his vices, but then he spoke, “I wanted to come to your flat last night. I nearly did.”

“It’s good you didn’t, Ethan. I needed to think and that’s very hard for me to do when you’re close. And it’s not anything you did last night. Not your fault. I—I needed some space after we were…together like that. It’s just—it’s just the reality of me. I am the one that’s f**ked up.”

“Don’t say that, Brynne. I know I didn’t listen to you last night. You told me what you needed and I ignored you. I pushed too hard, too fast. I broke your trust and that’s what I regret the most. I’m deeply sorry—you have no idea how much. And if it ruins my chances of being with you then I deserve it.”

“No you don’t.” My voice was just a whisper and there was so much I wanted to say but did not have the expressible words to phrase it. “You don’t want to be with me, Ethan.”

“I know I do, beautiful Brynne.” I could hear him exhaling from his cigarette. “And now the only question is will you? Will you be with me again, Brynne Bennett?”

I couldn’t help it. His words made me tear up. My only saving grace was Ethan couldn’t actually see me crying through the phone but I was pretty sure he could hear me.

“And now I’ve made you cry. Is that good or bad, baby? Tell me please, because I don’t know.” The yearning in his voice broke my resistance down.

“It’s good...” I laughed awkwardly. “And I don’t know when. I have plans tonight with Benny and Gaby.”

“I understand,” he said.

Was I agreeing to see him again? We both knew the answer to his question. The thing is Ethan drew me in. From the first night since we’d met he’d held me captivated. Yes we had moved fast into ***. Yes he had pushed me a little, but it had brought me to a place that felt wonderful when I could forget about my past. Ethan made me feel very, very safe in a way that surprised me and forced me to consider the reasons for it. I didn’t have a ton of faith that we might work out, but it sure as hell would be an affair to remember.

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“Can we take it slow, Ethan Blackstone?”

“I’m taking that as a yes. And of course we can.” I heard the soft brush of an exhale again. A pause as if he was gathering his courage. “Brynne?”

“Yes?”

“I am smiling so wide right now.”

“I am too, Ethan.”

7

The club scene in London is pretty damn awesome. We didn’t do it often but a good club crawl was just what I needed. My poor psyche was on maximum overload in a conflict of emotions, fears, and guilt. I needed to dance and drink and laugh but most of all I needed to forget about all the ****. Life was too short to dwell on the dark parts, or at least that’s what my therapist said. I had an appointment with Dr. Roswell tomorrow at four o’clock and a dinner date with Ethan after. Our first step in the take-it-slow agreement we’d made on the phone. He’d told me he wanted to lay the cards out on the table and I have to admit I liked that. The truth works best for me. I really don’t have anything to hide; it was more being careful about what I wanted to share. And I didn’t know how much I could share with Ethan either. There was no guide map to help me. I had to ride the wave and hope I didn’t crash into the reef and drown.

“Try this. It’s magnificent.” Benny handed me a tall orangey-red drink in a hurricane glass. “They’re calling it an Olympic Flame.”

I took a sip. “Nice.” We both watched Gaby banging it out on the dance floor with some guy who would definitely not get lucky tonight. We’d hit three clubs so far and my feet were starting to put up a protest. My dark purple boots looked great with my one shouldered floral dress, but three clubs in and I was ready for some fluffy socks. “My cowboy boot fetish is coming back to haunt me I think.” I smirked at Benny and lifted a boot.

“You own like ten pairs of them.” He shrugged. “I think they look hot. You know,” Ben said thoughtfully, “nude in boots would make some delicious portraits.” He nodded quickly. “Your body and your boots. Am I right? I want to do it. I can light it very dark and cast the boots in color. You have so many different shades—yellow, pink, green, blue, red. They’ll look brilliant. Just art, nothing overt.” He looked at me. “Will you do it, Bree?”

“Well…sure I will. If you think it’ll make good pictures then of course I’ll sign a release for my boots.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “My mother will have a coronary.” I waited for Ben’s sarcastic comment.

“Your mum needs a good rogering.” Ben did not let me down.

I burst out in laughter at the absurd image of Clarice Huntington Bennett Exley ever being rogered at any time in her life.

“Hell, nobody ever said you had to have an orgasm to get pregnant, and I’m pretty sure my mom only had *** the one time with my dad.”

“I think you could be right, my luv,” Benny said. Ben had met my mom a couple of times so he knew what he was talking about. “At least she got it right and made you if it was just the one time,” Ben joked and I laughed some more.

My parents divorced when I was fourteen—probably from a lack of regular rogering and the realization that they had absolutely no interest in each other, but to be fair, they’d both stayed in the same general area until I’d graduated high school. My mother would hop across the pond to London when the mood struck and I would take great delight in shocking her with my friends, lifestyle, and general obnoxiousness until she’d had enough of that particular visit. Her new husband, Frank, was much older than her, much richer than my father, and probably delighted when she left San Francisco on her trips. I doubt she got much rogering with Frank either. Maybe Frank got some when she was traveling but who the hell knew. My mother and I were at odds most of the time.

Now Daddy was a different story. He’d always been my go-to parent. He called me regularly and supported my choices. He loved me for who I was. And in my darkest hour was the sole reason I am still here walking the earth. I wondered what Dad would think of Ethan.

Ben took off to chat up some hot blonde as a possible lay and I stayed and sipped my Olympic Flame.

“Hey, lovely lady, those are some purty purple boots you got on there.” A big guy with red hair, sporting his own pair of boots, western jeans, and a belt buckle in the shape and size of Texas loomed over my table. An American for sure. There were tons of people filtering into London for the Olympic Games and this guy definitely looked like a European virgin.

“Thank you. I collect cowboy boots.” I smiled at him.

“You collect cowboys, huh?” He dragged his eyes over me leeringly. “Then I s’pose I’m in the right place.” He sat down next to me, his big body crowding me on the lounge seating. “I’ll be your cowboy if you want,” he muttered the rest under his alcohol breath, “you can ride me.”

I scooted over on the seat and turned away.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“My name is, I’m-not-interested.” I stone faced him. “And my middle name is, You’ve-got-to-be-kidding-you-drunk-pig.”

“Now is that any way to be friendly to your American guests all the way here from Texas?” Big Red leaned closer and laid his arm on the back of the seat, pushing up against my side, his leg plastered next to mine, his breath blowing in my face. “You don’t know what yer missin.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” I leaned back as far as I could from him and scooted further down the seat. “Do they teach you manners in Texas or do the girls there like obnoxious drunks who proposition them in public?”

Big Red did not take the hint, or maybe he was too dumb to comprehend my question because he grabbed my hand and lurched to his feet, pulling me along. “Dance with me, honey.”

I balked but his grip was so strong I didn’t have a chance against his tremendous mass. He was like a hairy red ****man who’d had too much grog, jerking me against his body and slithering us around the dance floor. His hand covered my ass and started creeping up my skirt. That’s when I picked up my boot and rammed the heel down as hard as I could on his toe.

“Get your hand off my ass before your balls become pom-poms for my boots. You have two balls and I have two boots—one for each.” I gave him a fake smile.

He grunted at me and narrowed his eyes. I could tell he was contemplating if I was serious or not and then he made a sneer and backed off of me. “Cold, English bitch,” he muttered, weaving through the crowd, off to harass some other poor person most likely.

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“I’m an American, you ass**le! From the good part of the country!” I yelled at his back before spinning into the hard wall of a male chest. A chest I’d been up against before. A body that carried the scent of pure intoxication for me. Ethan.

He did not look happy as he scowled at the retreating bulk of Big Red and then back at me. Ethan pressed his hand to my back and pushed me toward a table. I could tell he was pissed. But even angry he still looked beautiful in his black t-shirt, dark jeans, grey jacket, and that wickedly serious glare on his face.

“Why are you here, Ethan?”

“It’s a damn good thing I am, isn’t it? That ape was all over you—his mitts on your ass—no telling what he would have tried next!” He glowered at me in the plush seat, his jaw a hard line, his lips set in a slash.

“I believe I handled him very well all on my own—”

Ethan took my face in his hands and kissed me, holding me trapped to his mouth, pushing his tongue in, demanding I allow him access. I moaned and kissed him back, tasting only mint and the faint taste of beer. I still couldn’t believe he was a smoker. I could never smell it on him. Even if I’d wanted to deny his kiss, saying no to Ethan was next to impossible. I always wanted him. He pushed all the right buttons for me and for that reason he was dangerous.

“Look at you,” he said slowly, eyes raking down at my outfit and then back up to my face, “it’s a miracle there aren’t fifty hard-ons trying to get at you.”

“Nope. Just two—Big Red and you.”

“Who?” He narrowed his eyes.

It was my turn to raise a brow at him. “Benny was with me until a few minutes ago, and I’m gonna let that one slide, Ethan. Not sure where to go with it.” I folded my arms beneath my br**sts. “Are you supposed to even be here, Ethan? Better yet, how did you know I was at this particular club? Are you stalking me now?”

He raked a hand through his hair, and looked away from me. A bleached blonde ****tail waitress appeared instantly, blushing and jiggling as she took his drink order. I’m sure Miss-***-On-The-Beach wouldn’t bat an eyelash if he asked her to sit on his lap. Seriously, how did he even come to a place like this without women stumbling at his feet?

When Ethan asked me if I wanted something from the bar I simply shook my head and lifted the drink Benny had bought me. The waitress gave me a look as she took off, hips swinging.

“What do I do for a living, Brynne?” His voice was steely and I had to give him cre*** for not looking at her ass considering she practically waved it at him like the Olympic flag, and the fact he was speaking toward the dance floor, sweeping the room with his eyes.

“You own Blackstone Security International, Ltd. and have the tools at your disposal to stalk your dates?” I said sarcastically, tilting my head in question.

He spun back to me and flicked his eyes over my body. “Oh, we’re well past you being just a date, my beauty.” He leaned in, his lips at my ear. “When we f**ked in my bed you passed into uncharted territory—trust me on that one.”

My heart stuttered at the look on his face and the words he’d just spoken. Instantly wet for him, I tried to steer the conversation away from the ***ual. I don’t know why I bothered though; Ethan probably knew I was panting for him as we sat together.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Clarkson’s cre*** card popped up. Only the work of a moment.” He reached for my hand and caressed it with his thumb. “Don’t be angry at me for coming. I would have just stayed back if you were with your friends but that f**king cowboy put his hands on you.” Ethan brought my hand up to his lips, the brush of his goatee a touch I was beginning to love and take for granted. “I wanted to see you having fun. You looked so sad the last time I saw you in that cab.”

Ethan smiled and his whole face changed.

“I love when you do that,” I said.

“Do what?”

“When you kiss my hand.”

He looked down at my hand, still clasped in his. “It’s a very lovely hand, and I would be devastated if anything ever managed to harm it.”

His eyes returned to mine again but he mostly stayed quiet and watched me, rubbing circles with his thumb or pulling my hand up to his lips when he wanted to. Ethan needed to touch. It was just something he did that I understood about him. And oddly it comforted me. I couldn’t explain it really but I knew how he made me feel when he touched me. I suppose it was something I should talk to Dr. Roswell about at my next appointment.

Ethan’s choice of words struck me as unusual though. He was definitely overprotective, like he worried about me getting hurt. That train pulled into the station six years ago, Ethan.

Benny and Gaby showed up, did the meet and greet with Ethan, and then slipped away about as inconspicuous as frat boys at a kegger thinking they were playing it cool. Whatever. I’m sure they would stay up half the night speculating anyway.

When his drink arrived he used his left hand to hold it. Ethan never let go of my right one. Not until he put me in his car to drive me home.

He kept looking over at me in my seat, pulling my eyes to his repeatedly; arousing me to the point I felt the urge to squirm to relieve the ache between my legs.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that?” I finally asked.

“I think you know.” His voice was soft with a hard edge to it.

“And I want you to tell me because I really don’t know.”

“Brynne, I’m looking because I can’t keep my eyes off you. I want to be in you. I want to f**k you so badly I can hardly drive the damn car right now. I want to come inside you and then do it again. I want your sweet **** wrapped around my c**k while you scream my name because I made you come. I want to keep you with me all f**king night long so I can take you over and over again and you don’t remember anything else but me.”

I gripped the armrest and shuddered, sure a mini orgasm just rolled through my body. My panties were so wet I could have slipped down the leather seat if my boot heels weren’t dug into the carpet of the Rover.

By the time Ethan pulled up to the curb I was shaking. He got out and came around to open my door. He didn’t say anything and neither did I. At the porch I fumbled for my key and dropped it. Ethan picked it up and got it in the lock and us into the foyer. He held my hand through five flights of stairs, neither of us saying a word.

I pushed open the door to my flat and Ethan followed me in. And like other times, the instant we were closed together in privacy, a different man emerged. A man barely contained in his hunger for me. I knew I would not say no either.

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My back hit the wall and I was lifted off my feet in two seconds. Ethan’s mouth was on mine, probing and seeking two seconds after that.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said, tightening his grip on my ass.

I did what he told me to do. Spread against the wall, my purple cowboy boots dangling to the sides like a frog for dissection, I surrendered to whatever he had planned. I accepted that Ethan drove this part of us—the ***. He was in charge of every commanding thing he would do to my body, and I craved his touch far too much to have second thoughts right now.

“Unzip me and take out my ****.”

I did that too. His hips pulled back to give me access, but his mouth and tongue still plundered as I unzipped his jeans and sprung him, hard as bone and sheathed in silk. I stroked his flesh with my hand as best I could and reveled in his guttural hiss at my touch.

Ethan got his hand up my skirt and his fingers under my thong. He ripped it up the back, snapping the material like a rubber band before impaling me on his enormous erection. I cried out as he filled me, so stretched by the size of him I convulsed from the sensation. He held me suspended for a moment, our bodies finally joined.

“Look at me and don’t stop.” He tightened his hands under my ass cheeks and started pumping into me. Hard. Deep. Punishing really but I didn’t care. I wanted this from him as I stared into eyes burning blue fire at me.

“Ethan!” I moaned and writhed against the wall of my flat as he f**ked into me; his c**k owning me from the inside out. I kept my eyes on him. Even when I could feel the pressure start to build in my womb, and the tip of his ***** hitting the deepest spot he could reach, I kept looking at him. The intimacy was off the charts and I could not have looked away if I’d wanted to. I needed my eyes wide open.

“Why am I doing this, Brynne?” he demanded.

“I don’t know, Ethan.” I could barely speak.

“Yes you do. Say it, Brynne!” I tensed as an orgasm started to rule me but he immediately reduced the pace, taking it down a notch with slow pulls in and out of my spread ***.

“Say what?” I cried, frustrated.

“Say the words I have to hear. Say the truth and I’ll let you come.” He speared into me slower and nipped at my bare shoulder with his teeth.

“What is the truth?” I was starting to sob now, completely at his mercy.

“The truth is,” he grunted the rest on three, hard, punctuating thrusts, “You. Are. Mine!”

I inhaled on a cry at the final thrust.

He sped up again, f**king faster. “Say it!” he growled.

“I’m yours, Ethan!”

The second I said the words his thumb found my clit and released the orgasm, rolling and crashing as hard as a powerful wave breaking onto the shore. Like a reward for obeying him. I cried through it, pinned to the wall of my flat, Ethan still going hard at me through the shearing pleasure.

A roar came from deep within his chest as he started to climax; the stare of his eyes almost frightening. He thrust hard one final time, buried to the hilt as the hot seed pulsed up to soak me. He crushed his lips to mine and kissed, rocking the last few slides slow and gentle as he finished. His strong arms still held me up and I don’t know how he managed to do it but he did, kissing me sweetly and in total contrast to the ***-crazed madman of a moment ago.

“You are,” he choked out, “mine…”

He set me down from the wall, holding me steady until my feet were solid, and then pulled out of my body, breathing hard. I leaned against the wall for support and watched him tuck himself back into his jeans and zip up. My dress fell back down. To anyone who walked in at this moment, there would be nothing to show we’d just f**ked each other’s brains out upon the wall. All an illusion.

Ethan put one hand up to my cheek, holding me captive but gently to face him. “Goodnight, my beautiful American girl. Sleep well and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He brought his hand over my face, over my lips and chin and throat and down my front. The look of longing told me he didn’t want to leave, but I knew he was going to. Ethan kissed me on the forehead so softly. He paused and inhaled like he was breathing me in, and then he walked out of my flat.

I stood there after the door closed, my body still humming from the orgasm, my ripped underwear up around my waist, the warm trickle of se**n starting to flow down my thigh and listened. The rap of footsteps following his retreat was a sound not to my liking. Not one bit.

8

Dr. Roswell always writes in a notebook during our sessions. It seems very old-school to me, but then this is England and her office is in a building that was standing when Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence back in Philadelphia. She uses a fountain pen too, which impresses the holy hell out of me.

I watched her very beautiful turquoise and gold fountain pen scratch words into her notebook as she listened to me talk about Ethan. Dr. Roswell is a great listener. In fact, it’s pretty much the gist of what she does. I don’t know what our sessions would consist of if I didn’t tell her stuff she could listen to.

Sitting behind her elegant French desk table, she was the picture of professionalism and genuine interest. I’d guess her to be in her early fifties with beautiful skin and white hair that did not age her one bit. She always wore unique jewelry and bohemian outfits that made her look cultured and approachable. My dad had helped me find her when I’d first moved to London. Dr. Roswell was on my necessities list along with food, clothing and shelter.

“So why do you think you reacted by leaving Ethan in the middle of the night?”

“I was afraid of him seeing me like that.”

“But he did.” She wrote something in her book. “And from what you’ve told me, he wanted to comfort you and for you to stay.”

“I know, and it scared me. For him to want me to tell him why I have the dreams…” And this was my biggest problem. Dr. Roswell and I’ve discussed it many, many times. What would any man think of me once they knew? “He asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I told him no. He’s so—so—intense; I know it will be a matter of days probably before he pushes for more.”

“A relationship is like that, Brynne. You share and help the other person know about you, even the frightening parts.”

“Ethan is not like that though. He’s so demanding all the time. He wants…everything from me.”

“And how does that make you feel when he demands things or wants you to give him everything?”

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“Terrified of what will become of me—Brynne.” I took a deep breath and said the words. “But when I’m with him, when he touches me or when we’re…intimate…I feel so safe and cherished, like nothing bad will happen to me with him. For whatever reason, I trust him, Dr. Roswell.”

“Do you think starting a ***ual relationship with Ethan is the reason your nightmares have resurfaced?”

“Yes.” My voice came out tremulous and I hated the sound of it.

“Brynne, that’s a very normal thing for abuse survivors. The intimate act of *** is vulnerable for a woman by its nature. The female accepts the male inside of her body. He’s stronger and typically more dominant. A woman has to have trust in her partner or I imagine there would be miniscule few of us having any *** at all. Add that to your history and you have a very stirring mix brewing inside your subconscious.”

“Even when you don’t remember it?”

“Your brain remembers, Brynne. The fears of waking up to that betrayal are in there.” She wrote another quick note. “Would you like to try a medication for sleep? We could see if that suppresses the night terrors.”

“Will it work?” That sure got my attention. The suggestion of something so simple as a pill made me laugh nervously. The idea that I could stay with him all night…or he could stay with me, gave me some hope too. That is if Ethan still wanted to try sleeping with me. I remembered him walking out of my flat last night after the crazy ***-up-against-the-wall and how I’d not liked him leaving. My emotions were so confused. Part of me wanted him and part of me was terrified of him. I really had no idea what would become of us. He made you tell him you were his.

Dr. Roswell smiled at me. “We won’t know until we try, my dear. Courage is the first step, and the drug is merely a tool to help you take more steps until you’ve made it down your path. Solutions don’t have to be complicated every time.” She reached for her prescription pad.

“Thank you so much—” My phone started vibrating in my purse. I checked it and saw the text from Ethan. “Ethan’s here. He’s in reception. We agreed for him to collect me at my appointment before he takes me to dinner. He said he wanted to talk about…us.”

“It’s always good for two people to talk about their relationship. The honesty and trust you give now will make it much easier to sort out your differences later.” She handed me the prescription. “I’d love to meet him, Brynne.”

“Right now?” Nerves began dancing in my belly.

“Why not? I’ll walk you out and meet your Ethan. It helps me immensely to put faces to names when we have our sessions.”

“Oh…okay,” I said, getting up from her comfy, floral, chintz chair, “but he’s not really my Ethan, Dr. Roswell.”

“We’ll see,” she said with a gentle pat on my shoulder.

My breath caught in my throat when I saw him looking at the art on the wall while waiting for me. The way he stood there reminded me of him seeing my portrait at Benny’s show and wanting it. Wanting it enough to buy it.

Ethan turned when we walked into reception. His blue eyes lit up his face and morphed into a softened smile as he came toward me. A burst of relief shot down through my heart. Ethan looked very happy to see me.

“Ethan, this is my therapist, Dr. Roswell. Dr. Roswell, Ethan Blackstone, my—”

“Brynne’s boyfriend,” he interrupted me yet again. Ethan offered his hand to Dr. Roswell and probably gave her a smile that would melt her panties off. As they exchanged pleasantries I got a glimpse of her reaction to him, and I must admit it was satisfying to see women of all ages being intoxicated by his male beauty. And I would remember to use it during a future session too. So, Dr. Roswell, you think Ethan is off-the-charts ***y don’t you?

“Boyfriend?” I asked as he walked me out to his car, holding my hand firmly in his.

“Just keeping things positive, baby.” He grinned and pulled our entwined hands up to his mouth to lay a kiss on mine before putting me into his Rover.

“I can see that,” I told him. “Where are you taking me and why do you look so smiley?”

He leaned over to my side and brought his mouth right up to my lips but didn’t touch me. “I am always smiley, as you put it, when I get what I want.” He kissed me chastely and pulled back.

“Since when do you not get what you want? You’re the most demanding person I have ever met in my life.” I tempered the sarcasm with a little smile of my own.

“Careful, baby. You have no idea of the depths of what I want to do with you.” His eyes darkened.

I let that sensual threat float between us and tried to keep my breathing steady. “You scare me a little when you say stuff like that, Ethan.”

“I know I do.” He pulled my chin toward his mouth with a fingertip and kissed me again. This time he nibbled my bottom lip and teased it. “That’s why we’re taking it slow. I don’t ever want to scare you.” His eyes moved quickly back and forth as he tried to read me, his lips so close but not touching. “Do you realize this is our first time together where I didn’t have to coerce you to come out with me? I have some hope, you see?” He gave me one last kiss before he pulled back to put the keys in the ignition. “And that, Miss Bennett, must be why I am smiley.” His blue eyes danced now.

“Fair enough, Mr. Blackstone, I can live with that.” He helped me click my seat belt and drove out of the parking lot. I settled back into the soft leather and breathed in his scent, allowing him to take me off to somewhere, and for the moment trusting that everything would be okay.

“Dr. Roswell seems very capable,” Ethan said casually as he refilled my wine, “how long have you been her patient?”

I met his eyes and braced myself. Here it comes, now how will you deal with it? I told myself to breathe. “Nearly four years. Since I moved here.”

“Did you go to see her today because of what’s been happening with me?”

“If you mean going home with a complete stranger and letting him f**k me whenever we meet? Yeah, that’s part of it.” I took another gulp of wine.

His jaw ticked but his expression did not change for the next question. “And leaving me in the middle of the night—is that part of it too?”

My head went down and I nodded. It was the best I could do.

“What hurt you, Brynne?” He asked the question so gently I actually considered telling him for a second, but I was nowhere near ready.

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I set down my fork and knew my shrimp fettuccini was finished. The topic of my past mixed with food is a definite no-go. “Something bad.”

“I can tell. I saw your face when you woke up from your nightmare.” He looked at my plate of food now pushed away and back up at me. “I’m sorry about that night. I didn’t listen to you.” He reached out for my hand and rubbed his thumb over the top of it. “I guess I just want you to know that you can trust me. I hope you know that you can. I want to be with you, Brynne.”

“You want a relationship don’t you?” I stared down at his thumb rubbing over my knuckles. “You told Dr. Roswell you were my boyfriend.”

“I did, yes. And I want you, Brynne. I do want a relationship.” His voice got firmer. “Look at me.”

I looked up immediately, his beauty so stark against the sea of white linens on the tables behind him. “Even with me the way I am, Ethan?”

“The way you are is perfect to me.”

I removed my hand from his grasp. I had to tug a little to get him to let go. So very Ethan of him, wanting his way in all things, but he did allow me to turn his hand palm up and hold it. I traced over his life line and then his heart line and wondered if either of my lines was salvageable.

“I’m not, Ethan. Perfect and me don’t belong in the same sentence.” I spoke down to his hand.

“The proper phrasing should be perfect and I,” he said knowingly. “And I totally disagree with you, my American beauty with the ***y twang.”

I looked up at him again. “You are so controlling but you do it in a way that makes me feel strangely…safe.”

“I know that too. And it makes me f**king wild for you. And that’s why you should trust me and let me take care of you. I know what you need, Brynne, and I can give it to you. I just want to know—I have to know that you want it. That you want to be with me.”

The waiter arrived at the table. “Are you finished, ma’am?” he asked. Ethan looked annoyed when I told the server to take my plate and ordered a coffee.

“You hardly ate anything tonight.” I could tell he wasn’t pleased.

“I had enough. I’m not very hungry.” I took a sip of wine. “So you want me to be your girlfriend, and give up control to you, and trust that you will not hurt me. Is that really what you want, Ethan?”

“Yes, Brynne, that’s exactly what I want.”

“But there’s so much about me that you don’t know. Things I don’t know about you.”

“When you’re ready you’ll share with me and I’ll be right there to listen. I want to know everything about you and if you want to know about me, you can ask.”

“What if I don’t want to give up control to you on some things, Ethan, or I am unable to?”

“Then you tell me. We are negotiating and both of us have to respect limits.”

“All right.”

He tilted his head and spoke softly. “I want to be with you so badly right now. I want to take you home with me, and put you in my bed and have hours and hours with your body wrapped up in mine to do with as I wish. I want to have you there in the morning so when we wake up I can make you come, saying my name. I want to drive you to work and pick you up when it’s time to leave. I want to go to the shops with you and buy food we can cook for dinner. I want to watch some crap TV show and have you fall asleep against me on the couch so I can watch you and hear you breathing.”

“Oh, Ethan—”

My coffee arrived and I wanted to slap the server for interrupting that beautiful speech. I busied myself with doctoring it with sugar and cream. I took a sip and tried to find my words. To be honest I was caught up in him already. Hook, line and sinker. I wanted all those things with Ethan, I just wasn’t sure I would survive him.

“Too much? Am I scaring you off?”

I shook my head. “No. It sounds very nice actually. And you should know it’s something I’ve never had before. I’ve never had a relationship like that, Ethan.”

He grinned. “That works for me, baby. I want to be your first.” He raised an eyebrow in a look that dripped of ***ual innuendo and made me want to go home with him tonight to start the arrangement. “But I want you to think about it tonight and then tell me what you decide. And you need to know that I am very possessive of what belongs to me.”

“Really, Ethan?” The sarcasm rolling out of me. “Never would have guessed that from last night in my flat.”

“I could totally spank your gorgeous ass right now for the lip you’re giving me.” He winked at me. “I can’t help it. That’s just how I feel about you, Brynne. In my head, you’re mine, and that’s how it’s been since I first met you.” He sighed across the table at me. “So I’m going to be restrained this time and take you home to sleep at your flat, and kiss you goodnight at the door, and wait for you to tell me otherwise.” He signaled the server for the bill. “You ready to go?”

I giggled at the image that popped into my head.

“Are you laughing at me, Miss Bennett? Please do share.”

“I am picturing you wanting to spank me, Mr. Blackstone, yet playing the restrained gentleman that merely kisses me goodnight at my door.”

He groaned and shifted his legs in the chair, no doubt rearranging a furious hard-on I am sure. “You’ll have witnessed a miracle tonight if my car actually manages to make it to your street.”

Ethan kept his word. He did say goodnight at my door. Granted he’d taken a few liberties with his hands and I’d gotten a very good impression of what he sported behind his fly, but he’d left me like he had promised after some very thorough kisses.

I got ready for bed after a hot shower and pulled on my softest sleeping tee. It had Jimi Hendrix on the front, the picture where he is in a garden at a table set for tea; considered the last photograph of him ever taken. I loved stuff like that, and I loved Jimi so it got a lot of use.

Deciding it was time to do a little recon on my boyfriend, I fired up my laptop right in the middle of my bed and Googled the name I’d read on his driver’s license when he’d showed it to me: Ethan James Blackstone.

Not a ton really came up for him. He had a Wikipedia page and some links for Blackstone Security’s website. Wikipedia was a surprise though. Ethan was known mostly for his celebrity as a poker player for high limit games. He’d won a world tournament in Las Vegas about six years back at the impressive age of only twenty-six. A lot of money. Enough money to start a business. And with his military background in the Special Forces he must have found his niche. So that made him about thirty-two now. I did the math. Almost eight years older than me.

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Google Images had some pictures of him, mostly of his big win at poker. I would have to ask my dad if he’d ever heard of Ethan. He loved poker tournaments and still played sometimes.

I kept scrolling through pages of images and stopped whenever I found one of him. There was a picture of him with the Prime Minister and the Queen. Jesus… The Italian PM and the President of France? I felt tingles roll up my back. Was Ethan like a James Bond or something? What the hell kind of security did he do? If these were people he protected then he had a very high profile clientele. I was stunned. I made a note to ask Gabrielle’s dad if he’d heard of Ethan the next time I saw him. He was London police and if anybody was in the know, it was Rob Hargreave.

I’d also not seen a single personal photo of Ethan in a social situation with a woman. And I wondered if he held the power to squelch stuff like that. There was no way he lived a celibate lifestyle, not how he oozed ***. And if he was telling the truth about not bringing them to his home, then where did he take them for ***? Ugh, I didn’t want to ponder the idea.

Shutting down my computer, I turned out the light and crawled into bed. I pulled his purple tie out from under my pillow and held it to my nose. The comforting scent of him came to me instantly. I felt even smaller in the scheme of things now. And was left wondering why a man like him had noticed me in the first place. From just my portrait at a gallery show? The idea hardly seemed believable.

I tried to conquer my fears and think about what he’d offered to me tonight. And I remembered how good it felt to be with him and how he made my body burn during ***. I didn’t have to worry about anything scary or underhanded with Ethan. He was, if nothing, brutally honest. He was dominating, sure. But I liked that. It took the pressure off of me in a sector of my life where I held little confidence. I wanted him, I just didn’t know if he would want me once he knew my whole story.

9

Waterloo Bridge grounded me the next morning. I came home to the heavenly smell of coffee started by my roommate. I passed Gaby a half-hour later on my way out the door to class.

“You going to the Mallerton exhibition on the tenth?” she asked.

“I want to. I’m conserving one of his right now, Lady Percival. I was hoping to find out a little more about the provenance on her. She’s had some heat damage and it’s melted the lacquer over the title of the book she’s holding. I really want to know what that book is. Like a secret I need to discover.”

“Yay!” She clapped and did a little bounce. “It’s his birthday exhibit.”

I pretended to count on my fingers. “Let’s see, Sir Tristan would be two hundred twenty-eight?”

“Two hundred twenty-seven to be exact.” Gabrielle was deep into her dissertation on Romanticist painter Tristan Mallerton, so when there was anything doing with him she was first in line with tickets.

“Okay, off by one year. That’s not too bad.”

She smiled wide revealing perfect white teeth and full lips that made me wonder why she wasn’t the model. The reddish glints in her dark hair combined with her barely olive complexion made her look exotic. Men were always tripping over my roommate, but she wanted nothing to do with them. A lot like me, I thought. Until Ethan came along and upset my cozy existence.

“Let’s plan to go together—make a night of it. I want a new dress though. You wanna set up a shopping expe***ion too?” Gaby looked and sounded too damn excited for me to say no.

“Sounds excellent, Gab. I need some distractions from my suddenly more complicated life.” I tilted my head and mouthed the word, ‘Ethan.’

Gaby gave me the once-over and crossed her arms. “What happened with you two?”

“He wants a relationship. Like a real one where we sleep over and cook dinner and watch TV.”

“And lots and lots of hot orgasmic ***,” Gaby added and then held out her arms to me. “Come here. You look like you need a hug.”

I went into her embrace and held on tightly to my friend. “I’m scared, Gab,” I whispered at her ear.

“I know, sweetie. But I’ve seen you with him. I’ve seen how he looks at you. Maybe this is the big one. You won’t know unless you try.” She touched my face. “I’m happy for you, and I think you’ve got to go with a little leap of faith here. So far Mr. Blackstone is on my good list. If that should change or if he hurts one smooth hair on your innocent head, then his pretty-boy balls are gonna be transformed into a set of Klik-Klaks. And please tell him I said that.”

“God, I love you, woman!” I laughed and headed off to class, thinking about how I would break the news to Ethan.

Three hours later he sent a text.

Ethan Blackstone:

I smiled as I read the words. He missed me and he wasn’t afraid to say it. Ethan’s direct approach did wonders toward calming my nerves and fears about a relationship together, I must admit. I gathered my resolve and replied.

Brynne Bennett:

My phone lit up almost immediately with an emphatic YES along with instructions of where to go, elevator to take, plans to feed me lunch—typical modus operandi for my Ethan. That made me smile too. Did I just say my Ethan? I so did—I realized as I ducked into the Underground station and began descending stairs.

I wanted to stop at a pharmacy to get my new prescription filled along the way, so I hopped off the Tube two stations later. Heading back up to the street, I entered a Boots and dropped off the script. I grabbed a shopping basket and browsed while I waited for the pharmacist to fill it. An idea formed in my mind and I went with it, plucking items from the shelves and dropping them into my basket.

In the checkout line to pay, I noticed a big guy behind me waiting with his lone bottle of water. Well, I really noticed his tattoo. He had a beauty on the inside of his forearm—a perfect ren***ion of Jimi Hendrix’s signature, the big swirl of the J as clear as if Jimi had scrawled it himself. “Nice tat,” I said to him, noticing how really huge he was. At least six five, solid muscle, with spiked white-blonde hair and a face that exuded confidence—this was a guy you did not mess with.

“Thank you.” His nearly black eyes softened just a bit and he asked, “Are you a fan?”

His British accent soothed me for some reason, again totally at odds with his physical appearance. “Massive fan,” I answered with a smile before heading out to get back on the Tube.