GREY DIDN’T RETURNuntil an hour before their dinner reservation, greeting Ethan quickly before shutting herself in the bedroom. Ethan heard the shower running. He had showered shortly after she left, jerking off twice. He wasn’t taking any chances.
It was unbelievable. He hadn’t slept with anyone since his divorce, and most of the time had little desire to. And yet here he was, unable to think straight around her without coming first, like a horny teenager. He’d come dangerously close to losing control with her the other day on his couch. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted by Audrey’s call. But, of course, hehadthought about it, hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. It was hard enough trying to keep his mind off of her when he was by himself in his house, let alone when he knew she was, at that moment, a few short steps away, naked and soaking wet.
This weekend was going to be a nightmare.
At first he’d thought it was maybe just the fact that he had barely been in the presence of an attractive woman for the last few years. It had to be the novelty.
But then, he’d had girlfriends before. He’d been married. He’d certainly had more than his share of flings. None of that felt quitelike this. Being around her felt like parts of him were being switched on that he’d never known existed. It petrified him.
When she slid open the door to the bedroom forty-five minutes later, he couldn’t stop himself from openly gawking. She was wearing a floor-length dress in a gauzy material that clung and draped over her body so alluringly that it almost seemed like magic.
The fabric looked flimsy enough to melt under the heat of his touch. He half expected it to do just that when he rested his hand on the small of her back to guide her out the door. However, he quickly discovered that the dress’s halter neck left her entire back exposed, his palm landing flush against the dimples in her lower back.
The unexpected sensation of full skin-to-skin contact almost had him involuntarily pulling his hand away like he’d been scalded. At the same time, he felt as if he couldn’t move it if his life depended on it.
They slowly made their way down the path toward the Oasis Lounge. Grey set their pace, carefully placing each step so she wouldn’t get her stiletto heels stuck in the cobblestones. Ethan quickly reconfigured his hold on her, sliding his hand all the way around her waist and taking her other hand in his to help steady her.
Though they could hear distant sounds of laughing and splashing from the main pool area, the path was deserted.
“I had an idea,” Grey said suddenly, still singularly focused on the path.
“Oh yeah?”
“Should we do the thirty-six questions?”
“The what?”
She leaned her body against him a little more as she navigateda particularly harrowing stretch of terrain. Ethan hoped she couldn’t feel his heart start to pound harder.
“You know, the thirty-six questions that make strangers fall in love?” As if regretting what she’d said, she immediately tried to backtrack. “I mean. They just help encourage intimacy or whatever. Some psychologist came up with it. It might be worth a shot.”
Ethan tightened his grip on her, considering it. “You’re not worried we’ll fall in love?” he asked drily.
Grey whipped her head toward him.
“What?” she said, a little too loudly.
At that exact moment, her left heel landed squarely in a crack between the stones, and her ankle gave way. Ethan tried to catch her, but all he could do was watch her fall in slow motion as she slipped out of his arms and toppled to the ground.
“Fuckthesefuckingshoes,” she groaned, rolling herself into a seated position and clutching her ankle. Ethan instantly crouched down next to her, brushing her skirt aside to examine it. “No, it’s okay, you don’t have to—I’m fine—” she persisted, though they could both see her ankle was already swelling up like a balloon. “Just help me up, I can walk it off.”
Ethan was doubtful, but he still let her wrap her arms around his neck so he could pull her to her feet. She tentatively tried to put pressure on her injured foot, but hissed in pain, digging her nails into his shoulder.
“All right, that’s enough of that,” Ethan proclaimed, and in one motion swept her legs out from under her and scooped her off the ground. She gasped in protest.
“Wait! But what about our reservation?”
“Fuck our reservation,” he said, striding back toward the villa. She was on the taller side and wasn’t especially light in his arms,but they’d barely gotten a hundred feet away from the door. He could easily make it. “The only place you’re going is bed.”
Grey seemed like she was about to resist, but instead nestled her head into the space between his neck and shoulder with a small sigh. He tightened his grasp on her and tried to keep his intentions focused, repeating them over and over again like a mantra: he would bring her home. He would take care of her ankle. And he would leave her alone.
Bring her home. Take care of her. Leave her alone.
ETHAN HAD BARELY STOPPED MOVINGfrom the moment he had dug the villa key out of his pocket, shouldered the door open, and deposited Grey on the couch. He’d immediately propped her leg up on a pile of pillows and unlaced her high-heeled sandal gently, almost tenderly. When she’d flinched in pain as his hand brushed a particularly sore spot, he’d paused and looked up at her with such concern that her heart skipped a beat.
Shortly he’d arranged her on the bed atop her pillow tower, with her phone in one hand and the television remote in the other. Her eyes were on him, though, following his movements as he paced around the room, on the phone with the concierge. He asked them politely but firmly to cancel their dinner reservation and send over the resort medic and as many ice packs as they had on hand. Five minutes after hanging up, he decided that he couldn’t wait, and barged out of the room to track down some ice himself.
With him gone, she had a chance to breathe. She tentativelyflexed her foot, groaning when pain shot up her shin. Her ankle was starting to turn a charming shade of purple. Great. Three hours into her extended quality time with Ethan and she had already turned into one of those clumsy rom-com heroines who couldn’t get out of bed without falling down and breaking her nose—adorably, of course. This is what she got for trading her usual chunky heels for five-inch stilettos, the type she’d flat out refused to ever wear on the show. She swore to return those traitorous shoes as soon as she got home.
