AVA

Slowly I slip out of the dream, feeling like I’m rocking in a warm, salty bath. I can almost taste the waves as they trip over my skin, teasing me, lulling me into total trust.

I hear myself sigh and wake to realize the dream is only half a dream. I’m in Ethan’s bed, in his huge, hidden mansion, with my legs spread and his face nestled against my sex.

Surprise is quickly overtaken by an intensely sweet, deep longing as I feel his tongue sliding up and down my seam, diving deeper with each pass. At the top of each stroke, I’m already wanting more, urging him to continue by rocking my hips.

He’s making some kind of magic on me, fluttering his mouth against me, driving me wild. I let myself go, and in a few seconds my consciousness shatters like the sparks of a huge fireworks display, exploding in waves as I come and come.

I roll my back, arching and stretching, trying not to groan too loudly. My whole body is buzzing, alight, vibrating with pleasure.

Ethan props himself up on one elbow and slowly rolls his tongue over his upper lip. His eyes glint with mischief.

“I can do that again,” he growls.

I clap my knees together. “Once is plenty!” I object, suddenly shy again. “I want to save some for later.”

“I want to save some of you for later too,” he murmurs, dragging me closer to him by my arm and kissing me deeply. I can taste the combination of my taste and his sweet breath mingling in a lusty, hormonal soup that thrills me to my toes. I’m hungry again, filled with a longing like I’ve never felt before.

All these new depths of emotion and sensation, who knew? It’s like I’ve been missing out on some kind of great universal mystery. If I’d known being with someone could be this great, I might have given it more of a shot.

“I’m hungry,” he announces. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” I confess.

“Let’s fix that,” he says, rolling to the side of the big bed and standing up. The morning light silhouettes his perfect, sculpted frame beautifully. Since he’s not pacing this way, I lower myself to drink in the details of him: rippling muscles as he walks, the clenching, round shape of his buttocks, even those two cute little creases underneath.

It almost makes me giddy, thinking about it. What am I doing? Um, nothing, just hanging out with a billionaire who happens to be a perfect specimen of manhood.

You know. Like you do.

He takes a robe off the hook and wraps it around himself, and I’m a tiny bit disappointed to see his beautiful skin covered up.

“I’ll have Perry get us some breakfast. Well, lunch by now… can you meet me on the patio in fifteen minutes? You can use the shower if you like. It has rainfall and massage heads.”

He raises eyebrows at me briefly. Normally I wouldn’t even consider it, but…

“I’ll be down in fifteen,” I smile. Then, I add, “Boss.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” he smirks, sliding his cell phone off the desk and glancing at it before he leaves the room. I can tell that he’s distracted. I wonder how much work I’m keeping him from?

It takes a few moments for me to figure out the shower. There are five different handles and a couple dozen nozzles situated at strategic angles around the marble-enclosed area. But then I notice there’s a keypad with descriptions. I pick forceful + steam and set the temperature to very warm. Seems like a good place to start.

And it’s completely perfect. In the back of my mind, I know he said fifteen minutes, but I wouldn’t mind staying here half the day. The combination of water jets and billows of steam envelops my entire body with sweetly scented fragrances. The handmade cakes of soap lather my skin in luxurious, velvety foam. It’s almost a tragedy to get clean. I’d rather just stay here and play with all the sensations and smells.

But a promise is a promise. I get out and towel dry my hair on one of those throw-rug-thick towels. Twisting it on top of my head, I decide to take at least a few seconds to throw on some mascara and arch my eyebrows with a pencil. Just because I just got out of the shower doesn’t mean I have to be completely naked the rest the day, right?

In the closet next to the shower, I notice some of my clothes. Apparently someone unpacked my luggage for me, taking over this medium-size closet. My small selection of dresses seems pitifully inadequate in this large room, fitted with trays and drawers and rows and rows of hanging spaces with matching hangers. I pluck a flowing sundress off the hanger and flip it over my head. Someone was nice enough to put my underwear away too, and I figure a pair of dark pink panties will be just fine.

Giving myself a little twirl in the full-length mirror, I decide I look perfectly acceptable for the beach. The dress is gathered under my breasts and then swishes fully over my hips, feminine but comfortable, casual enough that I can just change shoes and fit in most situations. For some reason I feel like I need to be ready to hop in an airplane or jump on a yacht at a moment’s notice with Ethan.

Isn’t that amazing? Just thinking about it fills my belly with bubbles.

Thirteen and a half minutes. Not bad if I do say so myself. I grab my phone as I’m leaving the room, and it buzzes immediately in my hand. I flip it over. I’ve got four messages from Aden, just two from Bea. I look at hers as I’m descending the stairs. She wants to know if I’m okay. She wants me to check in. Normal stuff.

Four messages from Aden.

The preview on the last one says something like you hear me?

I do not have time for this right now.

I see Perry at the kitchen counter out of the corner of my eye as I cut across the living room toward the patio. The whole room is filled with the scent of baked goods, bacon, and something tangy like a fruit salad.

“You look beautiful,” Ethan says appreciatively as I step out into the sunlight.

He flashes me that million-dollar smile again. Even as I blush under his approval, I also know he has said that to at least a thousand other girls. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t mean it, I know. It just means no matter how much fun I’m having, I have to remember this is Ethan Mercer we’re talking about here. I’m sure a man like him has had a lot of practice acting like Prince Charming.

But there’s no trouble in playing along, I figure.

“Thank you, Boss,” I smile, giving him a little pirouette. I notice the way his eyes immediately flit to the hem of my skirt, which lifts as I turn.

The table is set with two plates, silver flatware on linen, and crystal stemware with champagne bubbling to the top of the flutes. Coffee. Pancakes. Some kind of pastry, plus a giant pile of bacon and eggs.

Suddenly I’m famished. My mouth is watering, my knees are trembling. I sink gratefully into the chair, hoping that I can be maintain some semblance of ladylike manners before I just go bananas and stuff my face. To camouflage myself, I delicately pick up the champagne flute. He raises his at the same time, clinking the rim against mine.

“Here’s to more orgasms,” he announces without a hint of irony or shyness.

My heart catches in my throat. “Oh my!” I giggle, but sip the champagne anyway.

“What? Does it bother you? It’s the truth.”

“Oh it’s definitely the truth,” I chuckle, “I just didn’t know we were going to… you know… keep talking about it.”

“Oh, we are going to do a whole lot more than just talk about it, Ava,” he says in a low voice, suddenly serious. I’m melting into a puddle. I meet his eyes, forcing myself not to look away. His lust is clearly displayed on his features, and again I feel that intimidation, that thrill of fear. I know my body wants him, but can I? Can I really take that last step?

“Well, dig in,” he invites me, easing the pressure slightly. “I think Perry went a little overboard, but it sure looks appetizing, don’t you think?”

“Oh, absolutely!” I agree, grateful that we’re going to start eating now. I pile up my plates, forgetting my ladylike aspirations and just going for it. I feel him smirking at me but I refuse to acknowledge it. He has seen me eat hundreds of times. He knows I like food. I’m not going to pretend to be the sort of girl who doesn’t.

My phone buzzes again, the double chirp that indicates another text message. I’m pretty sure I know who it’s from, but I don’t look.

“Do you need to get that?” he asks, jerking his chin toward my facedown phone.

“Not right now,” I say breezily, biting cleanly through a thick slab of perfectly cooked bacon. “Wow, this is delicious!”

“Artisanal and organic,” he nods. “There is a small farm not too far from here. I like to shop locally whenever I can. Helps to offset the greenhouse gases used during meat production.”

“Oh, I thought meatless was supposed to be better for the environment or something?” I stammer, staring at the bacon. I mean, it’s bacon. I’d rather not have too much guilt about the breakfast I’m enjoying.

“I’m not the sort of person to deprive myself,” he shrugs. “Everything comes at a price… meat production comes with a price… flying in a jet… but I’m willing to make compromises. This way, I get better quality product and lower carbon footprint. It’s a win-win.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved!” I smile, stuffing my mouth with the rest of the juicy, perfectly smoked flavor. “Because this is really great!”

He winks at me. “I’m glad you like it.” We eat in a comfortable silence for a while, savoring the simple, rustic, yet sophisticated flavors of locally sourced meats and cheeses. Even the pears have that non-mass-produced look about them, with a beautiful sun-ripened color and a few intriguing lumps and bumps here and there.

My phone buzzes two more times, and I notice his doing the same thing. He’s trying to be polite, but his eyes flit toward it again and again.

“I was thinking about taking a walk. Maybe along the beach?” I offer, basically suggesting that we spend some time apart. As soon as I say it, I feel some relief too. I wouldn’t mind a little personal time to figure out what I want, what I’m ready for, what he’s offering.

“Oh, terrific idea, you’ll love it,” he agrees immediately. I sense that he was hoping I’d say something like that, or was trying to figure out how to say it on his own. “I’ve got a few things I need to take care of anyway.” I finish off the pile of blueberries, doused in sweet cream with a hint of agave. Each one is sweeter than the last, and I realize I’m completely full, bordering on uncomfortably full. A walk is going to be a great idea.

He leans back in his chair, extending his strong, muscular arm to point down the beach.

“If you go that way, you’ll eventually come to a little town. Not much more than a collection of piers and some fishing boats… a couple antique stores I think.” He gestures up the beach the other way with one hand shading his eyes. “If you go the other way, you’ll run into some rocks, some tidal pools I think. Honestly, I haven’t explored the beaches too much.”

“No?” I marvel, staring out at the unusual black sand, watching the birds swoop back and forth. “I would think you would have had this whole place memorized by now.”

He smiles wistfully. “Sadly, I don’t have as much time for that sort of thing as I’d like. Feel free to take pictures. Take notes, even.”

I stand up from my chair, and he reaches out and takes my hand, tugging me down for a kiss. It’s such a sweet thing to do, so romantic. A little more Prince Charming, right? I lean into the kiss, enjoying his scent and flavor again, letting his taste fill my mouth.

Taking my phone off the table, I take the stairs down to the beach. The surf gets dramatically louder as I get closer. Somehow it wasn’t nearly as loud on the patio. Waves tumble over each other, splashing aggressively, sometimes six or eight feet into the air.

But it’s a warm day, even the breeze blowing my skirt around is not too cool or anything, so I decide to head toward the town. I’m sort of curious about this picturesque image I have in my head, of a fishing town on the black sand beach. I don’t know if I’ve ever even seen a fishing town, really.

The sand is gritty, a larger grain. Volcanic, I suppose. I stay close to the water, where the sand is wet and easier to walk on. My Keds are water resistant, but I don’t want to get too close to the actual surf and risk a bunch of blisters.

I walk for a long time, just luxuriating in the sensory overload of the ocean. The salty smell, the mist of water in the air that’s turning my wavy hair into a coarse halo of curls, the bright blue sky, the thunder of the waves. Something about this combination makes me thoroughly happy. Completely satisfied.

As I come around a slow curve, I see the town. It’s more or less how I pictured it, and it’s kind of adorable. Two docks jut out into the water with tall, homely boats rocking back and forth. I see a few hand-painted signs along the boardwalk, and some candy-colored houses nestled up toward the redwoods. It’s a perfectly California coast kind of place.

There is one antique store, with a plump old man sitting behind a counter, his half-moon glasses resting way down on his nose, reading a paperback as thick as my arm. He smiles when I come in, but he doesn’t say anything.

It’s a collection of knickknacks, buoys, and maritime whatnot. I didn’t bring my purse so I can’t buy anything, but it’s still fun to poke around, to inhale the musty, familiar-to-somebody smell of all these old things.

Not a whole lot else to see in the town. There is a single bar. If I had brought my purse, I would happily go for a beer, sit on a bench and watch the fishing boats do their thing, but I didn’t.

Still, I find a bench looking out at the boats and sit down. Instantly, my phone buzzes again.

Fine.

Before I really think it through, the call is connecting. I put the phone up to my ear, pushing my hair back with my other hand and squinting at the hazy horizon, so far away.

“I’ve been trying to reach you,” is the first thing he says.

“Hello to you too, Aden,” I chirp.

“Where are you right now?”

I swallow hard. I really should’ve thought this out before I took the call. What am I going to say? But instantly, I decide what I’m not going to say. I’m definitely not telling the whole truth.

“I just got a new job. I-I just started training. Today.”

“A new job?” he repeats, and I’m not sure if he’s happy or disbelieving. “Wow, well I guess… congratulations.”

“Thanks! Actually, I need to go get—”

“—did you see Ethan? I know he was there.”

I thought for a second he wasn’t going to mention Ethan, but I guess I was wrong. I slump against the wooden bench, digging the toe of my sneaker against the flaky dock boards.

“Yeah, I saw he was there. I suppose he gets asked to do a lot of those kinds of things.”

“Yeah, I wonder what kind of scam he’s running,” Aden sneers.

“I don’t think it was any kind of scam,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “People pay him to talk. So what? He’s a big success story.”

“His whole family is a bunch of con artists and money launderers, Ava,” Aden huffs. “You need to stay away from him. You know that, right?”

“I didn’t even get to see him talk,” I retort. It’s totally true, too. Sort of. I mean, kind of. I barely remember it.

“Good. I shouldn’t have to tell you these things.”

Biting my tongue, I remind myself to count to ten. I hate the way that he thinks he can just lord it over me. Like I’m supposed to take on his personal battles as my own. But if I defend Ethan, it’s definitely going to sound suspicious.

“Yeah, I need to get back to work here. I think break time is over…”

“What are you doing? You got an internship?”

“Yeah, an internship,” I repeat uneasily, hoping that the sound of the water and seagulls will conceal the tone of my voice.

“You have a contract? Send it to me.”

“Yeah, okay, fine, bye,” I say in a huff, thumbing the button to disconnect the call. Then I open my mail client, save the PDF locally and then start a new email, just shooting it off to him. He wants the contract, he gets the contract.

I just hope he leaves me alone.

I walk back, and it seems to take a very long time. After a while, I begin to feel a little exhausted from being pushed around by the wind and booming sounds. When I finally get back to the patio, I’m weary. I really want a nap.

But Ethan strides out at pretty much just the same time, grinning broadly when he sees me. I watch his eyes drift toward my hair, which must be quite a fright right now, tangled and enormous.

“I thought you ran away,” he smiles.

I climb the stairs, relieved as the sound of the ocean recedes slightly. When I reach the top stair, he holds me in his arms, sliding his strong muscles against me, pulling me close. His hands play with the tangled mess of my hair as he lifts my chin, tipping my face toward his for a kiss.

“I think I would like to have you tonight, Ava. I don’t think I can wait anymore,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against my lips with every word.

I gasp, startled to hear it so succinctly. He holds me tighter as I begin to tremble.

“Only if you want to, Ava,” he assures me. “You have to tell me this is what you want.”

Pausing for a moment, I ask myself that very question. Do I? Do I want to spend the summer with this playboy? Do I want to give myself to someone who I could never develop feelings for? Who could never feel for me? Someone who’s probably made the same speech to a thousand other girls?

“Tonight,” I sigh, glad to hear myself say the word. “That’s all I want too.”

“Perfect,” he growls, pulling me even tighter, closing his mouth over mine. He kisses me deeply, plunging his tongue into my mouth, lifting me gently off my feet. It’s so easy to just submit, to just get swept away by Ethan Mercer.