WHEN WE RETURNED to Ethan’s house a couple of hours later, we were all still wet and soggy from the rain and the pool, not to mention the heat. The moment we were inside, I shivered uncontrollably because the air conditioning was still blaring at full blast.
“Straight to the bathroom,” Ethan said to Carter, who was already racing up the stairs. “Take off all the wet stuff and leave it on the floor for me, then get in the tub.”
“It’s too cold to take off my clothes!”
“That’s why you’re getting in the tub, wise guy. The water’ll warm you up faster than anything else will.” Ethan snagged Snoopy before he could follow his boy up the stairs, hauling the dog into the kitchen, where he’d already piled a bunch of towels. He started drying Snoopy in there, probably to contain as much of the water as possible to a minimal number of rooms.
“Do you need any help?” he asked me, almost casually, but there couldn’t be anything nonchalant about that question after the handful of kisses we’d shared out by the pool.
“No, I can manage,” I said, but everything in me was burning to ask him for assistance. I shouldn’t do that, though, because he had Carter, Snoopy, and himself to deal with.
He didn’t need to worry about me, too.
“Get in the shower to warm up,” he said.
“I will,” I replied. But I’d rather get in his arms to warm up. Something told me Ethan had more than enough body heat to spare. I headed off to grab some dry clothes from my drawers before making my way into the bathroom.
“Leave your clothes on the floor in your room. I’ll come grab them once the water’s running and the door’s closed.”
If it weren’t for the fact that I was freezing, I might have stood there and argued that I could deal with my own clothes once I got out. But there wasn’t any point in keeping mine separate from his and Carter’s, and I couldn’t stop shivering, so I needed to get into the warm water, pronto.
The moment the water sprayed down over me, I couldn’t stop the indulgent groan from falling from my lips. My fingers and toes tingled from the sharp juxtaposition of temperatures, until finally my outside matched my inside.
I stayed under the falling water longer than I should have, but it felt too good to climb out right away. I couldn’t indulge too long, though, because Carter needed enough warm water for his bath, and Ethan would need to warm up, too. I shut it off before I was ready for the shower to end, determined not to be too greedy.
I wrapped a thick towel around my body and headed back into my bedroom, but I nearly bumped headfirst into Ethan. He was on his way out, carrying my wet things.
“Sorry,” we both said at the same time.
“I put a robe in the dryer for you.” Ethan nodded his head, indicating a scrap of folded red terrycloth on the foot of my bed. “To warm it up,” he added. “I thought I could get it in here before you were done.”
“Thank you. I wanted to hurry so I could leave you some hot water,” I explained.
“You didn’t need to do that. But thank you,” he replied.
And then we both stood there awkwardly, neither moving but unsure what to say. Everything we did say made us sound like broken records.
“I thought—” I started, but then I cut myself off, because I wasn’t sure how to proceed. “You wanted to see my tattoo,” I finally finished. “Maybe I could…show you. If you still want to see it.”
“I did. I do.”
But he was carrying my wet clothes and still wearing some of his own, dripping water all over the floor. He hadn’t had a chance to clean off and warm up yet.
I was an idiot for suggesting it now. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Bad timing.”
“Later. After I get Snoopy dry and Carter in bed.”
“And you need to dry off and warm up, yourself, too.”
“I do.” He passed his gaze over me, as if taking a mental inventory of everything, scanning to see if I’d hurt myself or gotten sick from being wet and cold, or any number of other things.
But maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe he was looking at me in a different manner altogether, and I was just having difficulty accepting it even if it was the very thing I wanted.
Regardless, his plan seemed altogether more reasonable, so I nodded and slipped past him into my bedroom, gently closing the door behind me.
The warm bathrobe was absolute perfection. I wrapped myself in it and sank onto the mattress to warm up for a few minutes. But those few minutes were too exquisite and far too indulgent for me to want them to end. It would be entirely too easy to stay exactly like this for hours if I allowed myself.
But I couldn’t do that, even if the thought was tempting. I had to start being responsible for myself again at some point. I put on my brace, in an effort to act like an adult and so I wouldn’t forget about it and accidentally hurt myself, but then I lay back against the pillows and halfway dozed off. Before I was ready, Ethan was knocking on my door and I still hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Come in,” I called, tugging on the robe to be sure I was covered.
He poked his head through and raised a brow. “Thought you would’ve gotten into your pj’s by now.” While he hadn’t had a chance to shower yet, he’d changed into dry clothes.
“Seemed like too much effort,” I joked. I sat up and patted the mattress in invitation. “But I haven’t rebandaged the tattoo yet, so now’s a good time for you to see it. I need to put some of that stuff on it that Ravyn sent home with me, anyway.”
“I think that’s still out in the car. I can go get it for you.”
“Not yet,” I said. I reached out a hand to stop him.
He cautiously took my hand, and the heat was enough to set my body on fire. But finally, he sat beside me.
The entire bed seemed to dip under his weight, and I almost toppled over onto him. I put my hands out to catch myself, and they landed on his chest and biceps. His muscles almost rippled beneath my touch. He still smelled like the rain, only it had combined with his natural scent to become something heady and addictive. Something I wanted to melt against.
“Sorry,” I said.
But he just helped me straighten myself up again, his massive hand lingering on my forearm before he seemed sure I could sit up on my own. “Don’t be,” he murmured. “I’m not.”
I raised a brow in question.
“Gave me an excuse to touch you without coming across like a jackass or a creeper.”
“You don’t need an excuse to touch me.”
He closed his eyes, and I could almost feel his inaudible groan vibrating the mattress. “I didn’t come in here to touch you,” he said quietly.
“I know you didn’t.”
“You’re killing me.”
“But would you, though?” I asked, despite my hesitance to put the suggestion out there. Everything had been so good between us. I didn’t want to screw that up, but I’d already initiated a change in our relationship tonight when I’d kissed him.
We couldn’t go back in time. I didn’t want to go back, either. I wanted to keep exploring this, wherever it took us, whatever it meant.
He let out an almost pained sound, his eyes still closed.
“When I’m ready,” I clarified. I reached for his hand and threaded my fingers through his, and he finally looked at me again, dark and serious and tortured. “Not right now. Not right away. But would you touch me if I asked you to?”
“I’d do anything you asked of me.”
I had to bite my lower lip to stop myself from asking him for too much too soon. Because, while I might be ready for a few kisses, and I might want to feel his strong hands on my skin, I knew I needed more time to heal.
Not just physically—emotionally.
As part of my outpatient rehab, they’d started sending me to a support group and some private counseling to help me process the emotional aspects of my trauma. I’d only scratched the surface of all the internal healing I needed to do. At the same time, I recognized that in order to truly come to terms with everything I’d been through, I would have to gather up the courage to move forward.
This was part of my recovery. Ethan was part of my recovery. So were Carter and Snoopy, and all the WAGs who’d stood by my side.
But trusting a man, accepting his touch and moving into a physical, emotional relationship again—that was one more step I needed to take if I ever wanted to be free of Hayes. And I wanted that more than I could say, even though I knew it wouldn’t happen overnight. Someday. With a lot of work and any amount of luck, it might be someday soon.
But however soon or distant that aspect of my healing might be, I needed time.
Ethan seemed willing to give me all that I required.
The only problem was, I wasn’t sure I’d be so willing to wait.
I bit my lower lip and looked down at my lap to avoid the combination of heat and gentleness in his stare, because I wasn’t sure what to do with them. But then I untied the belt of the robe and cautiously opened it so that he could see the ink on my lower abdomen, just above my left hip, cautiously keeping my private bits covered. “It’s still healing, but—”
“It’s gorgeous,” Ethan cut in. “It’s perfect.” He trailed a single finger along the curve of my hip, as if tracing the pattern even though he wasn’t close enough to make contact with the design itself.
That slight connection made every nerve ending in my body go haywire.
I wanted more.
The texture of his eyes turned dark and needy, matching the ache building inside me.
“Ethan?” I said, both hesitant and demanding.
His eyes shot up to meet mine, his finger still resting gently just inside the curve of my hipbone.
“Will you kiss me?”
He answered with strong hands gently capturing the sides of my face, skilled fingers diving into my still-damp hair, and hungry lips softly moving cautiously over mine. I reached up and grabbed hold of his wrists to brace myself, my breath floating away as readily as my heart.
Just when I felt I might explode from wanting more, he slid his tongue along the crease of my lips, requesting entry. I opened and welcomed him in with a whimper of need, leaning back against the pillows and dragging him with me until his large body almost completely covered mine.
I wanted that contact, his weight pressing me into the mattress, but he held himself above me, teeth and lips and tongue almost our only contact.
“Touch me,” I pleaded, breaking away for air.
“You have no idea how much I want to,” he said, but I was pretty sure he was wrong about that. I had every idea if he felt anything like I did right now. But still, he wouldn’t put his hands on me.
I’d never desired anything more than the sensation of those big hands on my body. I knew he’d be gentle. I knew he’d be everything Hayes wasn’t.
“Please, Ethan.”
I slid one of my hands down his powerful arm, trying to guide his hand to where I wanted it, but he wouldn’t budge.
“This is too fast,” he said. “Too soon. You’re not ready.”
And even though I knew he was right, even though rushing into any sort of a physical relationship was the last thing on earth I should be doing, I didn’t want to believe it.
“You said you’d give me anything I asked you for,” I reminded him, “as long as it was something you could give me. You said it had to start with me. Well, I’m trying to start it. I’m trying to tell you what I want. What I need. I need you,” I finished, somehow getting it all out without my words turning into a strangled sob.
Ethan resettled his weight on the bed, his hands still locked in my hair, and he gently nudged me until I rolled over beside him, the length of his body warming mine. He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, to the tip of my nose, to the bridge of my forehead between my eyebrows. “It was the truth then, and it’s still true now,” he finally said. “I’ll give you anything I can if it’s in my power to give it to you. And I can’t even begin to tell you how bad I want you—to touch you, to be with you, to show you what it ought to be like when you’re with a decent man. But I’m begging you to slow down.”
“I don’t want to slow down.”
“I know you don’t. But I want to build something that can last with you. And I need to be sure you’re ready for that.”
Even though one part of me deflated in frustration, another part of me melted inside.
Ethan was exactly what I needed. Even if he was making me crazy with wanting him.