A lot of the jargon goes over my head, but I catch the bulk of what he’s saying. “So, he’s not only counting cards, but you think he’s working with the dealer?”
“Yeah. The dealer should’ve notified the manager when he won that much in such a short time, but he hasn’t. So, now we’re going to catch them.”
We watch the table for several minutes, and Ethan walks me through the game. I’m entranced by what I see on the screen. The way the dealer deals so smoothly and quickly. When he points out the guy is counting cards, I don’t get it, until he explains it step by step as the man wins three times in a row. Ethan pulls out his phone, explaining he’s requesting a shift change. When another dealer walks over unexpectedly, the current dealer looks confused but changes places. The man who’s been counting cards gets up and, with a small nod to the dealer that you’d miss if the screen wasn’t zoomed in on his face, walks away.
“Oh my God! Did you see that?” I gasp.
“Yep.” Ethan puts his phone to his ear and taps away on hiscomputer. “Got him,” he says to whoever is on the other end. “Sent the file over. Bring them both in and handle it.”
“What are you going to do to them?”
Ethan turns me around so I’m straddling his lap. I try to ignore the thick bulge in his pants that’s pushing against my center, but it’s hard. “The manager is going to make sure neither of them ever step foot in this hotel again.”
“Are you going to kill them?” I ask, memories of finding my brother lying in a pool of his own blood hitting me like a bucket of ice.
Ethan’s hands grip my hips and he pulls me closer to him. “I told you before I’m not in the business of killing people. While your brother had to be dealt with, what Logan did to him… to you… never should’ve happened. When I find him, he will pay.”
Without thought, my arms snake around Ethan’s neck. He stiffens, but I ignore him. “Thank you,” I say, my eyes locking with his. “If it weren’t for you…” I swallow thickly, not wanting to even imagine where I would be right now had Ethan not swooped in and saved me.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmurs, his eyes leaving mine and landing on my lips. The air is suddenly thick, and even though I’m not an expert on anything sex-related, I’m almost positive the tension I’m feeling in the room is sexual and mutual.
I lick my dry lips, then speak—immediately realizing my brain must not work when I’m turned on. “I tried to give myself an orgasm like you gave me, but I couldn’t do it. It kept feeling like I was almost there, but then it wouldn’t happen.”
Ethan’s eyes widen then turn into thin slits.
I open my mouth, preparing to take back my word vomit, when Ethan’s mouth crashes against mine. Hard. His tongue delves between my parted lips, seeking my own. I waste no time, grinding against his pelvis. But it feels different this time, and I realize it’s because I’m wearing jeans. They’re playing as a horrible barrier between me and the fireworks.
As if he can read my mind, Ethan lifts me off his lap and sets me onto the table in front of him. He pulls my boots off and drops them to the floor. I lean back and watch as he unbuttons my jeans and tugs them down my thighs. When he stops and stares at me—specifically my panty-covered center—I consider closing my legs, but instead do something the old me would frown upon, but the new me would fist pump over: I spread my thighs open wider to give him a better view.
As if what I’ve done has granted him the permission he was seeking, he pulls my panties down my legs, leaving me open and bare to him. I should be embarrassed, but I can’t find it in me to be. Nervous? Yes. Excited? For sure. But embarrassed? Not at all. And I think it’s because the man in front of me is Ethan, and even though I don’t know him well, I’m comfortable around him. Sure, he’s broody and growly and dangerous, and I should probably be scared of him. But all I feel is relaxed and turned on and content.
When his hands land on the insides of my thighs and he spreads them wider, I close my eyes, but he’s not having it.
“Open your eyes,” he orders, and I pop them open. “I want you to watch as I make you come.”
Oh. My. God.
With my voice caught in my throat, I nod quickly.
“The key to getting yourself off is to let go of everything elsearound you,” Ethan says as he spreads my folds.
“You can’t overthink it,” he explains. His finger slowly enters me, and he smirks when he feels how wet I am. “Fuck, you’re drenched.” He adds another finger and pushes them in and out of me a few times. It feels so good. My mind goes to the conversation with my mom when I was younger and asked her about sex. She told me it wasn’t about pleasure, but about creating a new life… about—
“Angel,” Ethan says, shaking me from my thoughts. “Stay with me. Focus on nothing but what I’m doing to you. It’s only you and me…”
He pulls his soaked fingers out of me and brings them to his mouth. He sticks them between his lips and sucks, and I almost freaking lose it. “Want a taste?” he offers.
Without thought, I find myself nodding. He chuckles softly then leans over and presses his fingers to my lips. I open, and he inserts them into my mouth. They taste tangy, and I must make a face indicating that because he laughs.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought it would be sweet. All my romance books always say that.”
“So fucking innocent,” he murmurs, stepping closer and kissing me. “It tastes perfect.”
He pulls back, and I instantly miss his mouth on mine, but before I can complain and beg him to kiss me some more, I’m distracted by his finger, which is rubbing against my clit.
“Feel that?” he asks. “Your clit is swollen and sensitive.”
