Moonstruck

 

I'm as much my own master as anyone can be, without being the master of others.

- Stuart Woods

 

 

KAT

 

He reached me before her.

My drunken knees went jelly, betraying me when Serena came within twenty feet, and I faltered, reaching out for balance… but before I could think twice, Ethan’s body was underneath of my fingers, the strength of his muscular forearms giving me a sense of security I had no right to feel.

I hated him. Or, I wanted to…

I couldn’t stop the relief from flooding my senses. Ethan fell into my sway, swinging slowly to my stumbling rhythm, and when he placed his arms around my waist, it was only then I’d realized what he’d done…

He was dancing with me.

At least, to the outside eye. Serena, seeing the scene before her, stopped, and in doing so was soon drawn into another conversation. She’d forgotten about me… for the moment.

It was all I needed, what I needed.

Ethan, in all of his bastardized, “bane of my existence” essence, had essentially saved me.

He caught my misguided steps, turning them into poetry, and for the moment, I held him just as tightly as he was clutching me, allowing him to swing my body to a hypnotizing R&B melody, finding myself and simultaneously losing it on the chord of a song too smooth not to soak into. His fingers feathered a familiar touch at my bare back, and instead of pulling away, I fell into it, swinging my hips with surprising sure footing.

Sobriety hit me like a ton of bricks, and I was abruptly aware of everything.

Ethan, especially.

What started as a distraction suddenly felt like a seduction, and in my haze of music and the pure masculinity wrapped around me, I breathed Ethan in, recognizing the smell of him—that nostalgic scent of Columbian coffee, musk and man that, only a few weeks ago, had been covered in smoke.

I peeled my gaze from the floor to stare up at him.

The stairwell. The coat. They had both been bathed in his scent as he defended me from the handsy Harrison Kennedy, and when I sat beside the discarded jacket on the steps, something had called to me from my memory.

I just hadn’t recognized what it was…

Until now.

It was him. Icarus. The myth, the man. My rescuer from the fire.

Tears stung the back of my eyelids, and against my better judgment, I stood on the edge of my tiptoes to touch my lips to his. And that was all it took.

Ethan’s hands, which had enveloped me before, now squeezed, and every breath I had in me was inhaled by his hungry kiss. It made no sense—making out on the dance floor for everyone to see, but I couldn’t stop myself. My heart was swimming in a mixture of emotions—the hate tangling with love and admiration, and I wanted nothing more than to separate out the two with Ethan’s tongue and touch.

I had forgotten how good it was to kiss him—how right. What was it about Ethan Riske that made everything else fall away—the most reserved parts of me, the most secreted away pieces? He brought a violent, visceral side of me to the brink and pushed me beyond it. I wanted nothing more than to devour him—to be devoured.

An animalistic hunger took hold of me, and as his hands traveled through the ends of my tresses and down to my hips, I moaned softly into his mouth, sucking his lower lip inside of mine. He grinned and pulled back and as he did, a tap landed on my shoulder, followed by a quiet clearing of the throat.

Red hair was the first thing I saw, and Laney’s oval-shaped eyes peered from behind it, beckoning me—begging.

“Okay,” she whispered, pulling me out of Ethan’s grasp. “What the hell is going on?”

I shook my head. I honestly didn’t know, but Drunk Me knew that she didn’t want it to stop. The sober me, either, but it was an admission too early to put into the universe, so I kept it pocketed away, placing a soft hand on my best friend’s arm. Ethan simply stared, his eyes narrowing at her.

“I will explain, but now I have to get home.” I glanced around. “Before Serena finds me again.”

Laney opened her mouth to reply, but Ethan beat her to the punch. He surprised us with a short “I’ll take her home.”

I gazed back at him—almost as if for the first time, and I saw him as I had seen him in the fire. Strong. Fearless. A walking fantasy with his earth-colored eyes and bronzy blond hair. The waves in his crown had always been wild, and they fought their slickened style, begging to be let free. I wanted to free them with my fingers, forgetting myself in his darkened stare.

Suddenly, an interruption cut my attention into two, as a dark-haired man stepped forward, his green eyes lively as his gaze bounced between all of us… before landing on Laney. He smiled.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Sorry was the last thing he looked, but he kept going. “I’m Griff.” He held out his hand for Laney to shake. “I just came to say something to my best friend, Foxx… but I couldn’t help but overhear.” He looked at me. “If you want to sneak out of here, out of sight—of course…” He shrugged. “It might be best to do so with a person large enough to, uh, hide behind.” His glare shot to Ethan.

Laney got the hint and she looked at me for affirmation, giving me “Are you sure?” eyes. I couldn’t look at Ethan for assurance; I knew if I did, I would fall apart. My sense of self was already shaky, and any more pushes and pulls tonight was going to crumble my confidence. I nodded at Laney. At that, she let Griff guide her away to the bar. With a quick “Call me” motion to her ear and face, she disappeared with Ethan’s handsome friend among the throngs of people on the dance floor, and with a tickle to my palm, Ethan’s fingers slid over mine, bringing me close to his body, which he used to shield me all the way to the door.

Out of it. Onto the street. And into his waiting car.

The valet must have seen the urgency in his eyes because he disappeared quickly when we arrived, returning with Ethan’s car in seconds. The hundred-dollar bill Ethan passed him burned a hole in the young man’s hands, and the money vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

Too tipsy to care about anything with Ethan in my presence, I almost flinched as his large chest brushed mine. He opened my door, closing it as soon as I was inside, and a silence stretched into the air as he climbed into his own seat, securing his safety belt—and mine, before pulling away from the curb.

I rattled off my address, and with a quick few pokes of the built-in GPS, we were heading for the freeway, cruising quietly towards my condominium with nothing but the purr of Ethan’s Porsche to keep us company.

This was nothing like the Corvette, nowhere near as rugged and rough.

The luxury vehicle in which we currently sat was satiny black, stinking of wealth. As I sat within its leather-covered doors, I wondered where the boy I knew had gone, what made him leave and why. Everything about this life, this car, this suit reeked of Brendon Foxx, and yet when I looked at his beautiful profile, strong and sharp, I saw nothing but Riske—rebellious and irreverent Riske, driving undoubtedly into some danger with me at his side. He had lived a life of no regrets, and as his silent partner for one unforgettable summer, I had, too.

Two men lived in the sophisticated suit of Brendon Foxx, and I wondered, for the umpteenth time, which one I had tonight—the businessman or the rule-breaker.

Maybe it was a bit of both…

I was still pondering about the person I had spent the last fifty minutes with when we arrived at my address, Ethan’s black coupe sidling up to the concrete sidewalk outside my silent apartment building. The streetlights cast a blue glow across the front seats, and I faltered for the passenger door, drunker than I’d probably ever been.

The martinis had taken their toll, circulating through my system even as we sped through the Tampa streets. I knew I would wake up with a wicked hangover, and as I started to stagger out of the passenger side, Ethan’s arms magically appeared, stooping to sweep me inside of them. I didn’t resist.

Couldn’t if I wanted to.

Nothing felt more natural than being in Ethan’s arms. Being there fed a need in me that I hadn’t known had been missing. Guilt grabbed at my throat and even through the drunkenness, my subconscious was shredded to pieces.

This was a man I’d set out to ruin just days ago, that I’d plotted against… was still plotting against.

But when he pulled the keys from my open purse and turned the key to my front door, I forgot it all. When he walked from the foyer back towards the bedroom, I remembered what he felt like—his smell, his touch and taste. The feel of his tongue.

This wasn’t my monthly ritual, a pathetic attempt at a date with Mr. Two Strokes…

This was the real deal.

And I knew right now if I slept with Ethan… that everything would be twice what it had been before. Because Ethan was twice the man—literally. Twice as successful. Twice as handsome.

Twice as hard.

And right now that hardness was protruding against my behind, leaving an imprint across my backless dress, across my body, across my libido. Feeling his erection, knowing that I had that effect on him, made my weak-ass knees even weaker and as he set me down on my cool bedroom sheets, I sunk my fingers into his skin.

His body bore the signs of his hard work at fitness, and I fit within his fingers as if I were born to be there. He brushed his digits across my elongated brown bangs as my head hit the pillow, and I knew… I knew, with every fiber of my being, that he couldn’t resist joining me there. My eyes held a plea as I looked up at him through a heavy-lidded glare, and when he gazed down at me in the darkened, moonlit expanse, I expected his kiss—the one that had set me on fire at seventeen and made me temporarily insane tonight, would return.

I closed my eyes, feeling his breath blow gently over my face. My black dress slid further down my shoulders, and I made no move to stop it, letting the sleeves sink to just above my breasts. He inched nearer and I felt every centimeter that he sunk closer, the sound of his steady breathing setting my senses aflame.

I waited…

And then I felt it. Ethan’s lips had fallen to my forehead, landing there lightly, softer than a whisper across my brow, and when they withdrew, I glanced up, only to find myself staring at Ethan’s retreating back, making a beeline out of my bedroom. He shut the door behind him without another word.

And me? I just lay there, immobile, rejection rendering me speechless as I shut my eyes and willed the welling tears to stay at bay—back in the past, where they’d been at seventeen and stayed.

And then my phone buzzed.

Against my better judgment, I grabbed it quickly, checking the screen, scrolling my way to the text messages. I read the first one that appeared.

 

Laney:

Hey! You wouldn’t believe my night. Griff is amazingggg. More details to come…I’m stopping by tonight. Keep the door open ;)

 

I groaned, turning over in my bed. Closing my eyelids for God knew how long, I hugged my pillow, squeezing it tight, trying to fall into a frightful sleep, when several hours later—or minutes, who knew, Laney’s knock on the door woke me, jerking me forward. I swung out of bed, padding my way towards the door.

The hardwood beneath my feet was cold to the touch and as I hugged myself amidst the cold A/C in the air, I felt a chill not just on the floor but in my bones. I ignored it, opening the door without a second thought. When I saw who stood beyond my threshold, I realized that I needed that second thought.

Ethan was scowling in my doorway. His breath felt hurried, hot, and even from this distance, I could feel it on my face. His harsh expels. His rough intakes. And when he looked at me, it was if he were a wild animal, unleashed from his prison of a cage.

Clothes half-hanging on, his collar undone, he stared at me as if he were incapable of doing anything else. His tie was conspicuously missing, and his cufflinks winked at me from where they dangled, barely attached to his large wrists.

He was unhinged. Literally.

I should have been afraid. I should have turned him away. Instead, I just stood there, staring. I blew out a breath, sighing. “Fuck me.”

Ethan’s brown eyes flashed. “Yes, ma’am.”

He came in… and kicked the door closed behind him.