Chapter Twenty-Six
“Fuuuuck!” Ethan roared as his fist went through the sheetrock in the foyer, not once, but twice before he leaned his forehead against the ruined wall, a litany of expletives falling from his mouth.
Kat’s heart pounded in her chest as she backed further away, at a complete loss of what to do. But Ethan was so out of control, she didn’t think he realized she was there. She wasn’t sure if speaking to him would enrage him further or calm him down.
And as she watched him deal with a torture she could only imagine, she felt tears prick her eyes, wishing she could run to him, ease the excruciating pain he was trying to cope with even as an impossible truth slammed into her.
Emma Anderson had been pregnant.
With Ethan’s baby.
And it explained so much. Why Ethan hadn’t been around these past few weeks. Not because she’d been blackmailing him like he’d said. And it cut. Deep. And confused the hell out of her, everything that happened between them these past few days. What if Emma hadn’t been killed? Would Ethan have still said and done all those things? To what end? Had a child with Emma, abandoned it to be with her? Or stay with Emma and his child, and…what? Keep her on the side? Or maybe he never would have said anything to her.
Pushing her speculations aside, she backed up into the dining room she’d never furnished and headed toward the kitchen, searching her cabinets for alcohol, only finding the Chartreuse Ethan had left on the table days ago. Days that now seemed like a lifetime.
She wasn’t sure if it would dull Ethan’s pain, but it was better than nothing. Foregoing a glass, she grabbed the bottle and brought it back into the foyer, the sight of Ethan sitting on the floor with his back leaning against the door nearly her undoing. He brought a bottle up to his mouth, taking a few healthy gulps. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. When he looked up at her, the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes nearly broke her.
“At least they left something useful,” Ethan said as he held up the scotch.
Jesus, was there anything more heartbreaking than the sight of a grown man with tears in his eyes? Slowly, Kat walked over to him, unresisting when he grabbed her hand and brought her down, settling her between his legs with her back to his chest. She rested her head against his shoulder, trying to tamp down her own heartache in light of his.
“I don’t even know if he was mine,” Ethan said eventually, his voice gravelly, filled with grief. “When she told me, I thought it was just another way to trap me. Because the blackmailing attempt hadn’t worked. But at some point in the next couple weeks, when I began playing the last time we’d been together in my head…”
“Fuck,” he mumbled again, taking another swig of the scotch. “One more time, she said. This was back in March. She was waiting for me when I got home from work. It wasn’t until after that I realized something was off. When she started talking about a future I didn’t want. Slowly, it dawned on me how deep her feelings ran. She’d never let on until then. I thought she was okay with a fling. I would never have touched her otherwise, wouldn’t have hurt her that way.”
He laughed without humor. “I got her out of there as fast as I could, repeatedly telling her there was no future between us, knowing I’d just royally fucked up, though I never expected the ramifications to involve a baby. It wasn’t like I’d been unprotected.” He took another swallow and offered her the bottle, but Kat shook her head.
“I made her go to the doctor with me. Mine, or at least one I chose. Imagine my shock when I found out the timing fit. How stupid I was. So unbelievably stupid. She refused to get an amniocentesis. I’m not sure if was due to the risks of a miscarriage or to keep me hanging for the next six months.”
Kat closed her eyes, shutting out all the questions that were exploding through her head even as the pain exploded in her heart. Since when did they have secrets between each other? Since when did Ethan lie to her? Would he have ever told her?
But those, they were the easy questions. The harder ones, like what the hell was he going to do? Live with Emma in a loveless marriage? Or Jesus, abandon them both? No…
“I don’t know,” Ethan whispered, as if reading her mind. He tightened his arm around her waist. “All I could think about was losing you. But if the baby was mine…Jesus, I didn’t know which way to turn.”
Kat wasn’t sure how long they sat on the floor as Ethan drank half a bottle of scotch and poured out his heart and soul until his words began to slur. Eventually, she moved them upstairs. Ethan passed out before his head hit the pillow, still in his tuxedo. She took off his bowtie and opened the first two buttons on his shirt, so he wouldn’t suffocate.
And then, with the weight of the world on her shoulders and her heart broken in two, she finally gave in, crying for the first time in weeks, deep heart-wracking sobs she could no longer fight until sleep finally, blissfully claimed her.
***
She wasn’t sure what had woken her. Maybe Ethan’s arm around her, or his breath ruffling her hair. Or maybe the fact that it was the wrong man’s around her. It was way too early to get up and her eyes were swollen, her entire body sleep deprived, the stress of the last few days taking their toll. She slipped out of bed while Ethan slept, her heart hurting as everything came back to her.
She used the bathroom in the hallway, not wanting Ethan to awaken. It was still the dead of night, still pitch-black outside. She washed her hands, refusing to look at herself in the mirror, knowing she’d see red, burning eyes and dark circles. She was so exhausted, but knew if she tried to go back to sleep, she’d just be staring at the ceiling. A drink, she decided. Or three.
She was nearing the top of the stairs when she froze, realizing for the first time what had awakened her. A sick feeling embedded itself in the pit of her stomach as she heard the front door softly close. She ran down the stairs so fast she nearly tripped, crashing into the front door, swinging it open, but she was too late.
Stephen’s taillights flashed in the darkness, two glowing red lights that had dread running through her. She ran as fast as she could, hoping he’d see her in the darkness, hoping he was looking in his rearview mirror, praying to see his brake lights, but they never blinked and the next sound she heard was his engine revving, the squealing of his tires as peeled out onto the highway.
And if she hadn’t been sure before, she would be right now. Because the thought of him walking away, the thought of never seeing him again, of him turning his back on her kept her paralyzed, stealing her breath, her voice. Her heart already felt like it had been ripped out her chest and at the thought of him leaving…Jesus, the agony was unbearable. Like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
Oh God. What the hell had she done? Running back into the house, she tore up the stairs, grabbing the first pair of shorts thrown on her chair. She glanced at Ethan, still asleep in her bed, torn.
But Stephen…
Downstairs, she found shoes by the front door, searching frantically for her keys. And just as she was about to go out the front door, she turned back, leaving a note for Ethan that she was safe. He’d know, she thought. It wasn’t how she wanted to tell him, but she couldn’t do it now, every frantic thought running through her head that she was losing Stephen.
She raced back outside and into Ethan’s car, praying Stephen was still at the cabin. Minutes later, she was pulling off the highway, onto the long winding so-called road, praying he was there, praying he’d speak to her because she knew if she let this go until morning, there was a huge possibility she’d never see him again.
Not that she could fault him for that. She could only imagine what he’d thought. And honestly, if she’d caught him in bed with another woman? No matter how innocent? It wouldn’t matter.
At the top of the hill, she saw his truck and parked behind it. Giving herself a minute to get herself together, to wipe the tears from her eyes, wishing she didn’t look like hell, but still glad she hadn’t taken the time to fix it. Only fifteen minutes must have passed since she’d heard him leave her house even though it felt like a lifetime. Heart hammering, she got out of the car and ran up to the cabin, wondering if she should knock or just walk right in. Would he open the door for her?
But before she could do either, his truck door slammed. She spun around, her heart in her throat. Stephen.
And then it got worse.
She’d wanted to run into his arms, feel him lift her up, feel that hard press of his mouth on hers, ravaging her, taking her. But the look in his eyes froze her to her spot, had her rethinking the impulsive decision of her midnight travels.
Stephen stood at the bottom of the porch, three steps below her. He’d changed out of his tux, now wearing a worn pair of jeans with a black T-shirt that clung to his chest, showing off just how big he was. His black hair blended in with the night, his blue eyes never leaving hers as he lifted a bottle of beer to his lips, drinking half the contents in one long gulp, glinting in the moonlight.
“Sleep well?”
His tone was slightly sarcastic, letting her know that he’d seen everything, had drawn the wrong conclusion. But her heart was in her throat, preventing every single thing she wanted to say from coming out of her mouth as if she was stuck in one of those terrible, terrible nightmares where she was screaming and screaming, but nothing was coming out.
And it had her heart pounding. Fear, gripping and intense, not from the man himself even though he looked ready to kill. But from what he might say.
“I asked you a question.”
Another tone she knew well. Deceptively quiet. Too angry to yell. And that’s when her hands started to shake, when she started to doubt he wouldn’t forgive her for everything she’d put him through these past few days. She opened her mouth, yet still couldn’t force any words from her mouth. He climbed the steps, looming over her and she couldn’t help but take a step back, fearing the words that would come out of his mouth, ending them. Words that were making her heart break before he even uttered them, and she wondered if it would be easier just to walk away before he could tell her he no longer needed anything from her again, just like he had the other night.
He stalked closer but didn’t touch her. His eyes cold, hard. Harder than she’d ever seen them.
“Answer me!” The roar echoed through the mountains, so loud and deep it jolted her, making her jump. But she’d forgotten the question and she could only shake her head, hoping that was the right answer.
“Why are you here, Kat? You wanna finish what we started in the stairwell? Wanna fuck me one more time before you go back to him? ’Cause that’s not how this works, sweetheart.”
Still not trusting her voice, she shook her head frantically, but Stephen wasn’t finished.
“You wouldn’t stay with me, wouldn’t let me come home with you. Yet you let him. Slept with him!” And beneath the rage, she heard the heart wrenching anguish in his voice, the absolute despair that told her he believed she’d chosen Ethan. Finally, she opened her mouth, shaking her head. But now that she’d found her voice, he wasn’t going to let her speak.
“Stupid me,” he said on a laugh that held no humor, before bringing the bottle back up to his mouth, emptying it this time. “I came to apologize. For tonight, for the stairwell. I didn’t want you thinking I was making a point, that it was a play, part of a game. Maybe it started that way. My jealousy and getting the better of me, hearing you tell another man you loved him, seeing you in his arms. But by the end, I just wanted you, needed you. Was desperate to show you that you’re just as desperate for me, and it had nothing to do with this stupid fucking on-going war I don’t want to fight anymore!”
“Then stop!” she finally yelled, but he didn’t hear her, the fury in his voice breaking her already shattered heart. His words filled her head and she hoped to God they were still true. But Stephen was beyond listening, so she just kept her mouth shut, letting him vent, every word like a knife piercing her heart.
“And I couldn’t leave it for morning because I was so fucking scared you’d use it against me. That after you thought about it, you’d realize what a dick move it was. And that smile, that sad fucking smile you gave me when you dropped me off. Jesus, I just fucking knew this was it. The end. But I can’t live with the thought of losing you! Wondering every single time we’re together, if it’s gonna be the last!”
“It’s not—”
“But even that would have been merciful because I don’t want to fucking share you anymore!”
“You’re not.” But she knew he wouldn’t hear those words, whispered on a gasp, the sheer hell she’d put him through these past few days making her feel so very ashamed.
“So I went up, desperate to see you, apologize, feel your skin against mine, even if it was just to hold you one last time, all the while praying instead that you wouldn’t be telling me I lost you tonight.”
She didn’t want to hear anymore. Tears were rolling down her cheeks unchecked, too fast to wipe away. That she’d taken this strong, confident man and made him feel this way. That he’d been harboring all this these past few days and she hadn’t had a clue.
“And do you know how it felt? With all this shit going through my head?” His eyes were piercing now, his body vibrating with anger. “Seeing you in bed with him?”
“It wasn’t like that!” she screamed, loud enough that he would finally hear her, needing this to end, because she couldn’t take anymore.
“Meaning what? You didn’t fuck—”
“Stop!” she cried, shoving him with all her strength, enough adrenalin coursing through her that he actually fell back, his head slamming into the porch post behind him, shocking him silent. Finally. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence! You think I’d do that? After what happened between us?”
Obviously. Stupid question.
“The truth, Kat?” he whispered, his hand moving up to cradle her face. “Yes, I think you would.” He sounded desolate. Defeated. A far cry from his normal arrogance. Tt made her blink, stopped her from responding even as he placed a finger over her lips to prevent it. “You’re in love with him, and I can’t—”
“Damn it, you ass!” Kat yelled, fisting his T-shirt in her hands. “I’m in love with you, Stephen.”
He stilled, tension seeping into every muscle of his body half a second before he sprung, all his passion, his need and desperation burning through him into her when his mouth crashed down on hers. Instantly out of control, he ravaged her, his tongue demanding entry the second his lips landed on her mouth, every feeling she’d had inside her exploding into a hunger so crushing, so desperate, she was powerless against it.
He lifted her, his big warm hands gripping her waist until she felt her back against the cabin, then his hands were in her hair, holding her in place while he attacked her mouth with such ferocity she thought she’d orgasm from his kiss alone. She plunged her hands into his hair, fisting the soft silky strands, forgetting the need to breathe, kissing him back with the same ferocity he kissed her. Spots danced in front of her eyes and she didn’t know whether it was lack of oxygen or the overwhelming need for him, the devastating pleasure his mouth wrought. His hands tightened in her hair and he moved his mouth to her neck, his breathing as heavy as hers as she let her forehead rest on his shoulder. “Please,” she begged when she had enough air to get the word out. “Need you.”
“Can’t,” he panted, shocking her. No way could he be serious. Not when she was about to combust. But he didn’t stop kissing her, didn’t stop letting her slide against him. “Don’t trust myself,” he breathed into her ear before taking her mouth again and she was lost, so incredibly lost when his tongue met hers again, so desperate for him. “Need you too desperately.”
“Then take me,” she breathed again, her body on the edge of exploding, wanting that so, so much, remembering just how much she loved having Stephen Chandler out of control. And his words just raised that need so much higher when she wouldn’t have thought that possible.
“You better be sure this is what you want, because once we do this? You’re mine. You think I was an arrogant, possessive ass before? You have no idea what you’re unleashing, baby girl.”
Holy shit, she wanted that, so desperately, his words flaming her fire. “I do.” She wanted to scream the words, but didn’t think it came out that way. Maybe the desperate way she tightened her legs around his waist and moved up and down on his erection and tightened her fingers in his hair would get the point across because she was ready to burst into tears if he didn’t get inside her. “Now. Please,” she moaned. “Gonna—”
And finally, he seemed to realize how desperate she was, that she was just as desperate for him as he was for her. “Jesus, not yet.” He loosened his grip on her hair, moving his hand to her waist and she let her legs unwind from his on a whimper and much as it pained her, she let her legs fall, shaking her feet, losing the shoes as Stephen shoved her shorts and panties from her legs. His fingers skimmed up her legs, slowly moving toward the center of her, but that’s not what she wanted. She wanted to feel him stretch her, as her body acclimated to his, didn’t want to be stretched before that.
She tore her mouth from his, whispered don’t. She was wet, beyond wet. “Don’t,” she breathed again, and he seemed to understand exactly what she wanted, that she didn’t want his fingers stretching her first. She felt him unbuttoning his jeans and her body shook, so ready for him, the anticipation driving her wild. But all that need, as desperate as it was, in no way prepared her for the shock of Stephen thrusting into her and the immediate explosion of her body. Her scream echoed through the mountains, her body convulsing as the pain and unholy pleasure ripped through her, the force of it so powerful she felt on the verge of passing out, black spots dancing in front of her eyes as her body continued to pulse.
“Ah fuck,” Stephen gasped, holding her hips in place, her back shoved up against the cabin wall as tears gathered in her eyes, tears of a pleasure so intense she didn’t want it to ever end. “Don’t stop,” she somehow managed to grit out and thank God he listened, thrusting into her, her orgasm rolling into a second one or maybe just one long one that refused to end.
“More. Again,” she hissed when the she started to come down.
“Christ, Kat. So incredibly tight. Wet,” he panted. “Fucking dream.” Every word uttered punctuated with another deep thrust that went so deep inside her and she could never imagine living without this, without him. And finally she could breathe again, or at least gulp in a few breaths, her body slowly coming down from her high.
“No fucking way,” Stephen warned, and then his hand was in her hair, gripping, tight, his mouth crashing down on hers again, his tongue thrusting into her mouth with the same desperation his cock thrust into her body, their teeth clashing, and she wondered if it would ever go away. She felt her body responding again. He must have felt it too, the tightening of her body around him. He tore his mouth away. “You wanted this.”
God yes, she wanted this. Would never stop wanting this. Loved having Stephen out of control. The heat, the desire in his eyes, the ferocious primal way he took her, it all coalesced, building and building. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if she’d survive this one, or if her heart would explode the same time as her body. And she felt his body tense, felt him grow even larger inside her, stretching her when she hadn’t thought she could be stretched any further, his thrusts stronger, more powerful.
“Now, Kat!”
And she exploded, Stephen right on her heels, his masculine roar thundering through the mountains, in her ears, mixing with her screams, on and on, blocking everything out except the white-hot pleasure burning through her veins, burning into her soul and she knew even as the pleasure imprinted on her soul she would never, ever fully recover.