I did. I’d had the best night’s sleep in seven years in his bed, but…
“I think I’ll be okay.” I rubbed my arms and stared at the floor.
Ethan’s hand snaked out and tilted my chin up to meet his eyes.
“Even though we had a bump in the road, I still had an amazing day with you.”
Fuck.My heart knocked into my chest and I wanted to lean into him, to press my body against his and let the warmth of his skin melt into mine. I wanted to feel his rock hard chest against my body—I wanted to fuck him. I hadn’t wanted to have sex in years. I did it monthly out of obligation to Bryce, and I would lay there moving with the same rocking motion, thinking about what I would make for dinner, faking an orgasm every other time so he wouldn’t get mad. I’d thought my vagina had shriveled up and died, and now with Ethan’s hand on my chin I wanted to reach into his pants and see what we were dealing with.
I let out the breath I was holding and stepped back. “I had an amazing day too. Night.” I spun and hightailed it out of there before I started to hump his leg.
I wasdefinitelybuying a vibrator tonight.
Ethan King just did it for me. Merely looking at him made everything in my body ramp up a notch, and when we touched it was ten times more. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if I kissed him. I was liable to explode.
Sometimes a girl needed to explode.
OceanofPDF.com
Eight
The next month passed by in a blur of school and work and work and school. When I wasn’t doing that, I was doing homework, and in the rare hours of doing nothing I was with Ethan or Angela. Angela would bring her adorable son over to play, while Ethan would BBQ for us, or Ethan would call me out to the living room, where I’d make popcorn and we’d watch a movie together.
I’d finally ordered that vibrator to try and quell the sexual tension between Ethan and I, but that was a fucking disaster. For starters, Ethan didn’t notice my name on the box and opened the package. Then he’d re-taped it and set it in front of my door. But by the red in his cheeks, and adjusting of his pants the next time he saw me, I knew he’d seen it. When I’d tried to use it, all I thought about was screwing Ethan’s brains out. I definitely needed therapy. I wanted to have sex with him but was too scared—what a shit show. The one glimmer of hope over the past month was that Bryce had gone radio silent. I was hoping that meant he was back in L.A., where he belonged. Probably making someone else’s life hell.
It was hotter than the devil’s armpit outside. I was just riding my bike home from the light rail stop, sweat dripping from every pore of my skin, when I saw Ethan taking a new motorcycle off a trailer. He rolled it into his shop as I pulled up and wheeled my bike inside.
Summer in AZ meant wearing as little of clothes as possible and I was doing just that. A neon crop top I’d scored at Target and Daisy Dukes with flip-flops. The second I was done with nursing school, I changed from those thick hot scrubs in the school bathroom.
Ethan had stopped moving the bike, as it was midway down the ramp, and now was raking his gaze up and down my body.
Fuck me. He wasn’t subtle about it either.
I didn’t know how much more I could take of this. Living with this tattooed god who never wore a shirt and didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body … it was torture. My heart and my head needed to have a powwow and come to terms. Assuming Ethan would even want to hook up with me. Though the growing bulge in his pants confirmed he’d probably be down.
A slow grin crept across my face as I walked over to the small shop fridge and grabbed an ice cold Gatorade. After chugging half the thing, Ethan’s deep voice sounded right behind me.
“Would you ever get on one of these?”
I spun around, a lump in my throat. Sweat made a slow trickle down his eight pack before changing directions as it diverted to his V-shape and into the motherland.
“Yeah? What?”
Where was I? What year was it? Do me now, Ethan King.
He grinned. “If I fixed up this bike for you, would you ever want to learn to ride?” He gestured to the clunker that just got brought in.
Ohhh, right. I shook my head. “Umm, eighty miles an hour on the 101? Probably not. Maybe a Vespa though. Those are cute. A blue one.” I smiled.
He looked horrified. “A Vespa? There is no way I’m letting you ever drive a Vespa.”
I shrugged. “I don’t mind the light rail and my bike.”
His brow furrowed. “It’s really hot out though, and with a motorcycle you could be home in ten minutes versus the forty-five it takes you now.”
I genuinely felt safe on Ethan’s motorcycle when he was driving, but didn’t think driving one myself was my thing. A pang of sadness ripped through me then. I missed my Audi.
I groaned. “I should have fought harder for my Audi in the divorce.”
