Teenager or not, Ethan without a shirt looked mighty fine.  He wasn’t an overly muscular guy, but his shoulders were broad.  The muscles in his arms and shoulders were defined and simply divine.  I moved in front of him and knelt down to get a better look.  A better look at the tattoos, of course.  Well, and maybe his shoulders.  And his abs.  His chest was nice, too.  Oh my…double wow.  His nipples were pierced.  They both had silver hoops that were slightly larger than the ones in his lip.

Ethan turned sideways a little to give me a better view of his bicep muscles, er, the arm and shoulder tattoo.  The tail, as I had suspected, belonged to a dragon.  It curled around his bicep and met with the body and claws up around his shoulder while the neck curved over the top of his shoulder to the head splayed over his right pectoral.  The lettering right underneath the spiked tail read Carpe Diem.  The other tattoo, up near the left side of his chest, was of a stylized pair of roses: one was large with the smaller one beneath it.  A ribbon wrapped around the stems, with the names Bryson and Grace scripted right over his heart.  I reached out and stroked the image of the roses for a moment before looking up into Ethan’s eyes.

“That one is pretty self-explanatory,” he said with a shrug.  I nodded in response.  “The dragon just reminded me of Dad because he loved dragons in every form—books, paintings, movies—whatever.  It’s over my shoulder because he was always coming up behind me and watching whatever I was doing.  It also makes me feel likes he’s still watching me, you know?”

“That makes sense,” I said.  I ran my fingers up his arm and followed the path of the tail until I reached the dragon’s head.  Then my fingers headed back down again to the lettering.  “Carpe Diem.”

“It’s pretty much my motto.” Ethan smiled.  “Tomorrow is too much of an unknown.  If there’s something you want to do, always do it today.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever really looked at tattoos up close,” I said.  “They’re more colorful than I thought they would be.”

“It depends on the design,” Ethan said.  “Some are; some aren’t.”

“When did you get these?”

“I got the roses on my eighteenth birthday because no one would let me get it before then,” he said.  “The dragon was just a couple months ago, about a year after the first.  I saw it in a tattoo art book of Gwen’s and took it into the tattoo place near their apartment.  Like I said—it reminded me of Dad.”

“Did you get your piercings then, too?”

“No,” Ethan said.  He reached up to his right ear.  “I got them the year after my parents died.  I had kind of a breakthrough—I was still in weekly therapy then—when I finally let go of all the guilt I was feeling just for being alive when they weren’t.  I realized they had already taught me everything I needed to know. I just needed to figure out how to apply it to my life.”

“Are the earrings significant, too?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t pressing too much.  He nodded.

“These three are me and my parents together,” Ethan said, letting his fingers glide over the three silver rings in his right earlobe.  He pulled each of them out of his ear, and showed me the names engraved inside each ring—Ethan, Bryson, Grace.  He put them back through the holes in his ear in the same order and then moved his hand over to his left brow where the single ring was.  “This one is me, alone.  It’s up on my head because I had to learn to think for myself and make my own decisions even if they weren’t what everyone else wanted me to do.”

I had to swallow hard at the thought of him considering himself to be so alone.  I found myself wishing I had been there when it happened so I could have helped him through it at the time.

“These,” Ethan said, placing the tips of his fingers against his bottom lip, covering the rings there, “are my parents again, because as long as their names are on my lips and their memory in my heart, they’ll always be with me.  I’m a little into symbolism, I guess.”

“Ethan that’s…beautiful,” I whispered.  I blinked a couple of times to push back the tears threatening to form.

“Thanks,” he said, blushing again.  He twiddled with the rings on his lips and then looked up at me.  “I have something else here that’s beautiful.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“You,” he replied, and pulled my face to his.  He molded his lips to mine and brought his arms around my waist.  I felt his hands press into my back, holding me against his bare chest.  I opened my mouth to him, and he reached his tongue gently inside, caressing my tongue and leaving me breathless.  I slid my fingers over his bare arms, up to his shoulders, and over his neck before I grabbed ahold of his hair and pulled him closer to me.  He moaned against my mouth.

“That really feels good,” he said when he broke away from me.  “I don’t know why, but it does.”

“This?” I asked, tugging at his hair again.  I had never been attracted to men with long hair before and definitely didn’t subscribe to the man-bun craze, but I loved how his hair felt in my fingers.

“Yeah,” he said, along with another moan.  He kissed me again and again, and pretty soon we were making out on the bean bag chair once more, just like the night before.  I had the added bonus of having a shirtless Ethan, and it wasn’t long before I had to explore more of his torso with my fingers.  Starting with his shoulders, I trailed my fingers down across his pectorals.  He grunted against my mouth as my fingers glanced over both of his nipples, gently touching the silver rings running through them.  I let my little finger slide through the loop of one.

“Are these symbolic as well?” I asked against his lips.

“Um…no.” Ethan looked away, and then glanced back at me through his lashes.  The blush I was starting to fall head over heel for came back.  “They just feel good.”

“They do, huh?” I smiled and tugged on the ring just a little, wondering if he’d like that the same way he liked it when I tugged on his hair.

“Jesus, Ashlyn!” Ethan breathed.  He reached up and pulled my face back to his, kissing me hard.  I guess I would have to take that as a yes.

I released the ring from the tip of my pinkie before lowering both of my hands to find his abs.  His skin was smooth and warm underneath my fingers.  Every time I hit a sensitive spot, he’d let out a little sound and pause in his kisses for a moment before continuing.

My legs were getting a little sore from kneeling in front of him on the floor as I reached up to kiss him, so I crawled into the chair with him and lowered myself onto his lap, my knees on either side of his hips.  As soon as I dropped down I could feel him, long and hard between my legs.  It was my turn to gasp into his mouth.

“Sorry,” Ethan murmured into my mouth.  “When you had your hands on me…pulling the ring…just couldn’t help it.”

“Wow.”  For a second, I couldn’t breathe.  I didn’t have a lot of experience with different men, but they had all been about the same size.  What Ethan had between his legs was nowhere near average.

“I’m…um…‘well-endowed.’”  He snickered.

There I was, in a pink bean bag chair in the penthouse apartment with a billionaire teenager’s erection between my legs.  I’d let my hormones get the best of me as if I were the teenager instead of Ethan.  I hadn’t thought any of this through at all.

This was insane.  Absolutely insane.  My friends would completely freak out if they knew what I was doing.  My father would probably end up in the hospital on anxiety meds and maybe write me out of the will.  Ethan had tattoos and his nipples were pierced, for the love of all that is holy.  He was so far removed from every guy I had ever dated, he couldn’t even be considered in the same species.  He was a college dropout, had brain damage, was much too young for me and…and…and…

My accounting-centric brain kicked in, and without a doubt, the numbers were against us.  We were simply too different, and I really didn’t have time for any of this.  I should have been studying for exams, not making out.  Being with Ethan had way too many issues, his being a teenager at the top of the list.

The cons simply outweighed the pros, and I was a woman of numbers.  This would never work out, and I was just delaying the inevitable by being here.  I needed to get out and get out now.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly as I pushed myself off of his lap.  “I just can’t do this.”

“Ashlyn, what is it?”

“I’m sorry, Ethan, really,” I said as I yanked on the pink Converse and grabbed my purse and overnight bag.  My stomach cramped and my heart thumped in my chest.  My eyes started to burn.  “It’s me, not you.  Whatever that saying is.  I just can’t.”

“I didn’t mean to…to pressure you or anything.  Ashlyn, please don’t go.”

I kept shaking my head as Ethan protested.  Reaching into my purse, I pulled out the keycard he had given me.

“I don’t want that,” he said.

“I can’t keep it,” I replied.  “I’m sorry I let this go on as long as I did, really I am.  I just…I just got caught up in the moment.  I shouldn’t have let it happen.  You’re a great guy and all, but I can’t do this.”

I held out his apartment key, but he wouldn’t take it from me, so I dropped it on a side table and headed for the elevator.  Ethan followed.

“What did I do wrong?” he asked, but I had no answer for him.

The elevator arrived, and I quickly went inside and pushed the button for the parking garage.  I looked up at a dumbfounded Ethan as the doors closed between us.

“I’m sorry,” I said again as the elevator descended.