Chapter Thirteen
French food to the rescue. Ethan breathed a sigh of relief because Ally was enjoying herself so much. The place was intimate with lots of tables for two covered in white tablecloths with a glowing candle and too much silverware. Ally exclaimed over every course, which was a lot. They both got the prix fixe menu with a bunch of tiny courses. Ally got hers with a glass of wine, her cheeks glowing, from wine or sex he wasn’t sure, but he soaked her in greedily. His life had never seen so much sweetness and light as it had since she came into it. He’d been so worried he’d screwed up earlier, fucking her rough before their date and not even using protection. He knew better, especially after she’d confided in him about her lost pregnancy. He had to be more careful with her physically and emotionally. He was embarrassingly inexperienced at this love stuff. But, dammit, he would die trying.
They shared a chocolate soufflé, which Ally looked so orgasmic over, he purposely slowed down eating to let her have more of it. She sped up correspondingly and finished it off with a blissful sigh that made his chest fill with warmth. Her happiness was everything.
She wiped her mouth carefully with a napkin. “I’m glad we went to dinner. This was wonderful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He considered his next steps. He wanted to spend the night with her, even if it didn’t involve sex, and he didn’t want another desperate negotiation to convince her. “What’re your plans for tomorrow morning?”
“Lauren’s bachelorette brunch. Actually, it’s not far from here.” They were in the wealthy town of Greenport. “So no strippers, as you can imagine.” She made a small pout.
“I could show up as a cop stripper,” he offered with a straight face.
Her eyes widened. “That would be awesome!”
He shook his head, laughing. “I was kidding.”
“I’d bet you’d earn a lot of money as a side gig doing that,” she said enthusiastically.
“Thanks?”
She laughed.
He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “Tell me why you’re against spending the night.”
Her smile dropped and she fiddled with her napkin. “I’m not against it per se. I just don’t want to make it a habit.”
He straightened, figuring he could work with that. “Once a week isn’t much of a habit. What time’s your brunch?”
She leaned across the table and whispered, “Why do you want to spend the night together? I can’t imagine you’re in the mood after our screwup.”
He leaned close and whispered back, “I’m always in the mood, but that’s not why. I like waking up to someone who makes me smile.”
Her lips curved into a small smile, her eyes soft. “Eth.” She swallowed visibly. “That was so sweet.” She kissed him and straightened. “Okay, you can stay at my place. Brunch is at eleven, so I’ll probably be up around nine.”
He relaxed, glad he’d said the right thing. It was the truth too. “Works for me.”
“Did you guys do anything fun for Alex’s bachelor party? Lauren told us you all went into the city last night.”
“No strippers there either.”
“Bummer, right?”
He shook his head, smiling. She was probably the only woman in the world who’d feel sorry for them not having strippers. “Doesn’t do much for me anyway.”
“Su-ure,” she said with a big exaggerated nod. “You’re the exception.”
He flashed a smile. “That’s right. We went to Chelsea Piers and did the batting cages, driving range, and rock-climbing wall. Then we headed over to Marcus’s bar to hang out in the private room. Played some pool and poker.”
“Lame-o.”
He snorted. “It was fun, really, but definitely not your typical bachelor party. And he called her twice because he missed her. So whipped.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t know, I think that’s kind of sweet. Did you get him a present?”
“We all chipped in for Chelsea Piers and his drinks. Was I supposed to get him something else too?”
“I don’t know how bachelor parties work, but definitely for a bachelorette party. We’re all getting her naughty lingerie.”
He leaned in, intrigued. “Naughty, huh? What’s your contribution? Better yet, what naughty lingerie do you wear?”
She gave him an impish smile that told him she definitely wore some good stuff. “I got her a black lace bustier that exposes her midriff, with teeny string bikini panties. You know what a bustier is?”
“It’s a fancy boob holder.”
“Yeah, it’s like—” she cupped near her breasts and he quickly glanced around to make sure no pervs were watching besides him “—from here down your sides. It sort of lifts your boobs like an enticing offering.”
Her dirty talk was turning him on. He loved that she was so open. “Do you have one of those?”
She leaned across the table and he leaned in too. “I hope this isn’t TMI but, after a breakup, I throw out any lingerie I wore with my ex. I told you it’s been a while for me. I haven’t bought any in years. No guy really interested me.”
He smiled big time. “Until me.”
She pursed her lips. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He grinned and leaned back in his seat. “You know, I’m glad you tossed the old stuff. I don’t want some other guy’s imprint where I want mine.”
“Imprint,” she said and laughed.
He smiled. “I’m trying to be classy.” He looked around at all the couples dressed formally and speaking in low tones. “This is a classy place.” And she went right there with him with the dirty talk.
The waiter arrived, offered coffee, which they both turned down, and left the check. Once that was taken care of, he helped Ally from her chair and walked her out, the lingerie conversation still stuck in his mind. What kind of lingerie would Ally wear?
As soon as they were safely in the privacy of his car, still parked on the street, he turned to her. “Would you wear lingerie for me?”
She smiled brightly. “Sure, what kind do you like? Bustier, teddy, slip, romper, or bodysuit?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not very specific. Ooh, I know! Come on, there’s a lingerie shop in town. Just a few blocks away.” She hopped out of the Jeep.
Aw, man. He hated shopping. He’d hoped she’d just show up one night in something skimpy. He met up with her on the sidewalk and she grabbed his hand, practically running toward the shop. “We have to hurry,” she said. “They might be closing soon.”
They got there and the sign on the front door said they closed at nine. “Yes!” Ally cheered. “We’ve got twenty minutes. When you see something you like, just holler.”
It didn’t even have a dirty name like Barely There Nudes or Hot and Skimpy like he’d hoped. It was called Deborah Marshall. Right there his hopes took a dive.
He followed Ally inside to an explosion of pink and white. Pink walls, white carpet, pink shelves and pink hangers. Headless mannequins modeled the latest lacy things. It smelled like flowers. If any of the guys saw him in here, they’d never let him live it down.
They were the only customers. A bored thin woman in her fifties with black cat’s-eye glasses hanging on a chain around her neck and a prim buttoned-up white shirt stood behind the register. Maybe that was who the shop was named after. “May I help you?” she called.
“Just looking, thanks,” Ally replied.
He leaned down to Ally’s ear. “Get whatever you want. I’ll wait outside.”
She grabbed his hand and dragged him along. “I need to know what you like. I’m only wearing it for you.”
His heart kerthunked. “I like black. The skimpier the better.”
He’d thought that would narrow it down, but it turned out the world of women’s lingerie was much more complicated than he’d realized. Honestly, it all looked good to him. He watched Ally’s expression as she quickly went through all the black items, and when she got excited over what she called a slip and he called a thin dress, he told her that was his favorite. She was so excited she did a little dance, holding it up for him to feel how soft the satin was. He was more interested in the sheer lace over the breasts along with the deep plunge both in front and back.
They took it to the counter and he pulled out his credit card. “My gift,” he told her.
“Thank you,” Ally said. “I’ll get you the guy version.”
He smiled. “This is the guy version. A gift for you is a gift for me. Trust me on that.”
She squeezed him around the middle in a hug. He put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze back.
The salesclerk slid her glasses on and peered at them. “What an adorable couple.” She turned to him. “Would you like the matching sheer robe?”
This place was pricey. He considered the high dollar value of the combined outfit that Ally would throw away if they broke up and then decided in an optimistic burst that he didn’t have to worry about that.
Ally shook her head. “That’s okay.”
“We’ll take it,” he said.
Ally squeaked and hugged him around the middle again.
Worth it.
~ ~ ~
Ally had enjoyed their night out, but now that they were back at her place, she was hiding in the bathroom, heart racing, hands trembling in the black satin and lace slip and sheer robe. Ethan was lounging in her bed, probably naked, waiting to see her model the lingerie.
Why did she let him spend the night? She was only getting herself in deeper. She needed space not more togetherness. She could practically feel the inevitable crash about to slam into her when this all went south. Yet when she imagined coming home to an empty apartment after their tumultuous night, she knew exactly why she allowed him to stay. She wasn’t ready to let him go. As simple as that.
Ethan was grounded and solid in a way her ex-boyfriends had never been. She didn’t know if it was because he was a cop or because he was a little older than her ex-boyfriends. In any case, she liked his solidness, liked that he was someone she could count on. When he made a promise, she believed him. She wasn’t nearly as freaked as she should’ve been at the possibility of an accidental pregnancy. Because it was Ethan. He was husband material. Dammit! She hated that her mind went there, even with her new enlightened attitude about making her own happiness.
She loved him.
Her stomach did a topsy-turvy flip. She loved the tough guy and didn’t have a clue if he felt the same way. He cared for her, liked her, definitely, but love? She told herself not to put any heavy expectations out there. The future would take care of itself one way or the other.
Maybe she’d be pregnant, maybe she wouldn’t.
Maybe he’d bail, maybe he’d stay a while longer and then bail.
Maybe she’d stay in this bathroom forever.
She gave herself a last look in the mirror, her worry written all over her face. She turned away, leaving the bathroom and making her slow way into the bedroom on shaky legs.
He’d left the light on the nightstand on, probably to see her outfit. He was definitely naked, sitting up in her bed, the pillow bunched behind him. He looked out of place—all hard sculpted muscle—in her girly bed with its coral paisleys and flowers comforter. Normally she went to her boyfriend’s place because she used to always have a roommate.
He wolf-whistled. “Beautiful. So beautiful.”
She stopped next to the bed and blurted, “I’m scared.”
He threw the cover back and pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her so they were lying side by side, facing each other, and then stroked her hair back from her face. “Don’t be scared. What’re you scared of?”
“Everything. You, me, the future.”
“It’ll be okay.” He kissed her forehead, her cheek, the spot just below her ear that made her melt. “Don’t worry, okay?” he said in a husky coaxing voice by her ear. “Just enjoy.” He nuzzled her neck, bringing a hot shiver.
She let out a shuddering breath. “I’ll try.”
He rolled on top of her in one smooth move, settling between her legs, his mouth claiming hers, his hard warm weight at once comforting and arousing. His tongue took possession, his fingers tangled in her hair, carrying her away to the realm of pleasure, and she let him.