Chapter 10
Ethan couldn’t believe he’d thrown out that word. Forelsket. For-fucking-elsket.
He’d come across it on his search for foreign words that might amuse and delight his butler, and somehow it had stuck in his head.
And for some reason he’d repeated it to her.
He was in desperate need of alone time with his feeble brain to come up with an appropriate way to defuse the situation, but instead he was driving to a guys’-wear store, recommended by Emmaline, with his seven-year-old son.
To buy clothes fitting for a casual beach wedding.
During which he would enter into a marriage-of-convenience to the woman on whom he’d dropped the word forelsket. A word implying he was falling in love with her, when that just couldn’t happen.
He’d done that years ago. Had that. Experienced the romance that inspired a million songs—and it remained unblemished and irreplaceable in his heart. Michelle was there. Always.
But he didn’t want to go through the rest of his years alone, and he’d pledge himself to Charlie’s happiness without reservation—though it must be done with complete honesty. Tonight he’d sit her down and make sure she knew that word was a mere slip of the tongue.
Clearing his throat, he glanced over at his son. “You’re sure you’re okay staying with Emmaline and Lucas tonight?”
“Uh-huh. Emmaline says sometimes new couples like to have some time just to themselves.”
“Nobody’s trying to get away from you, Wells. You know I love you, and Charlie does too.”
A little private smile curved the corners of his son’s mouth. “She tells me I’m the best boy in the galaxy.”
“She does, does she?” He couldn’t swallow his own smile.
“Lucas says she’s quite a catch for us.” Wells giggled. “Like we were fishing for her. But she’s been in our house the whole time.”
“It’s an expression. Meaning we’re lucky she said yes.” To a small boy and a man who couldn’t give her everything a woman should want.
Shit.
But as he pulled into the parking lot of the store, he knew he was selfish enough for himself and his son to go through with this and build the best life he could for the three of them. Starting tonight, with a little truthful conversation, and then on to the reward both he and Charlie had been anticipating.
The acquiring of the proper attire turned out to be not as taxing as he’d expected. In the ways of all good graduates from the Continental Butler Academy, Emmaline had called ahead with suggestions and sizes, and the salesclerk had readied a large dressing room in advance of their arrival. Less than an hour later, he and Wells walked out with linen slacks and shirts—one blue, one ocean green—along with new casual slip-on shoes.
Bless those butlers.
They climbed into the Range Rover again, the goal a trip to the ice cream shop before going home to collect what Wells would need for his overnight. But as they traveled, the boy clammed up, a state so unusual that once Ethan parked, he turned to his son in the backseat before exiting the car.
“Hey, pal, is something the matter?” he asked. “Are you confused about anything? Remember I said you can ask questions. Of course, you can talk to me about whatever’s on your mind, but is it the wedding, or…”
Christ, he was starting to babble to fill up the silence. Had the reality of the new marriage finally set in, and the boy was now going to balk?
“I don’t remember Mom,” Wells suddenly said. “I can’t remember her face unless I’m looking at a picture. I don’t know the sound of her voice.”
“Oh, Wells,” Ethan said, his chest aching. “I’m sorry.”
He shot a quick glance at his father. “Are you mad?”
“Of course I’m not mad. You were only two years old when she left us. People don’t remember much about being two.”
“I think I used to remember. I think I used to remember her singing me songs.”
“She did.” Ethan smiled. “She made up songs about you getting your pajamas on and another one about a teddy bear you used to have.”
“Charlie taught me a song about math facts.” Wells stared down at his lap. “She leaves me notes in my lunch.”
“I wasn’t aware of that.”
“They say stuff like, ‘I know you’ll ace the spelling test’ and ‘I can’t wait until we play cornhole on the beach this afternoon.’”
Oh, God. Ethan saw where this was going. “She thinks you’re the best boy in the galaxy.”
Wells nodded, then darted him another quick look. “I think she’s the best butler in the universe.”
“That’s great. Mom would be so happy that you have someone in your life who cares for you so much.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Stretching across the back of his seat, he managed to ruffle his son’s hair. “She’d be happy that you have someone you care about so much too.”
“I…I almost care about her like a mom.”
Ethan had to take a steadying breath. “Maybe you care about her just like a mom.”
And with those simple yet profound words, the crisis seemed to be over. Wells slid from his booster seat and jumped out of the car, boisterous boy once again. Smiling at the sudden shift in mood, Ethan followed him into the ice cream shop.
“Don’t tell Charlie,” Wells said. “Because I’m already getting cupcakes for dessert tonight.”
“We can work our way around her,” Ethan promised.
They sat at a small marble-topped table with their one-scoop sundaes, hoping to avoid any telltale ice cream stains on their clothes, sure to tip off the butler about their unsanctioned indulgence. Rather than be mad at them, Ethan mused, she’d more likely be sad she’d missed out on the treat, and he was considering bringing home some hand-packed pints when a man carrying a white bag came to stop in front of them on his way out the door.
“Ethan!”
He stood, shaking hands with Steve McDonald, the man who’d run the grief group and whom he’d encountered at the elementary school a short while back. “Great to see you.”
The older man looked down at Wells. “And is this your son?”
“Yes. This is Wells.”
Steve hunkered down, held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, young man. What are you up to?”
“It was my birthday,” Wells said, “yesterday. Oh, and my mom died.”
Rising, the man glanced at Ethan. “I know that. And I’m sorry about it.”
“But Dad and I are getting married again.” Wells was fishing for the cherry swimming in the soupy remains of his sundae.
“Is that right?”
“We…her name is Charlie,” Ethan said. “She’s been working for me and…” He shrugged, then without thinking, withdrew his wallet. Inside, shielded by a plastic sleeve, was a photo of the butler and Wells, standing on the beach and mugging for the camera. A breeze had snatched at Charlie’s hair and it flew wildly around her face. Her eyes shone as blue as the ocean behind her. Showing it to his old friend, he remembered snitching it from a pile that Sara had brought over one day.
Long before he’d asked Charlie to marry him.
“I’m so pleased for you, Ethan,” Steve said, beaming. “I always hoped I might fall in love again after Linda died, but it didn’t happen.”
“That’s not…it isn’t…” Ethan glanced down at his son, still intent on the remains of his ice cream. “Nothing has moved Michelle from my heart,” he said, in a low tone. For those few months he’d attended the grief group, the two widowers had shared personal confidences, and he didn’t want to mislead the man now. “She was the love of my lifetime.”
“The love of that lifetime,” Steve said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Seems like you’re beginning a new one now, right?”
Upon his and Wells’ return to the house, they found it empty of Charlie and that her car was missing from the garage. Apparently busy on some errand of her own, he decided, but he found she’d packed a small bag for Wells as well as the boy’s school backpack for the next day. A note sat on top. Be good for Emmaline and Lucas. Pay attention to how to bake those cupcakes. I’ll miss you. It was signed BTTBBITG.
Wells pointed to it, grinning. “Butler to the Best Boy in the Galaxy.”
Ethan had to grin too. That woman. Definitely a catch.
Wells skipped along the sand as they traveled northward to the house where Emmaline and Lucas lived. They found the couple inside and eager for their evening with Wells. A few minutes later, Sara and Joaquin arrived as well. Apparently they were planning to hang out, read up on dog breeds, and gorge on cupcakes.
“After a very healthy dinner with fruits, vegetables, grains, and proteins,” Emmaline assured Ethan piously.
“Then I’m collecting Wells in the morning to get him to school on time,” Sara said. “You and Charlie are free to sleep in…or whatever.”
He didn’t let his mind drift into “whatever” territory. Not yet.
Wells got interested in an old-school Operation game that Lucas had uncovered from somewhere, and he and Emmaline and Joaquin started fooling around with it, hooting and hollering over who was the worst surgeon. Sara wandered onto the back deck, seeming to contemplate the surf, and looking at her gave Ethan a guilty pinch.
He joined her at the railing. “Hey, I should have told you. A while back I took one of your photos. From that handful you brought over to the house.”
With an odd reluctance, he withdrew his wallet from his pocket and flashed it for her. She grabbed the leather before he could put it away and inspected the picture.
“I like it,” she said, smiling. “Very this summer.”
He took the wallet back, hoping he didn’t seem to snatch it from her.
She smiled at him. “Make my friend happy, will you?”
Shit. Now he felt like a thief and a fraud. “It’s not exactly like you think it is.”
Her smile was serene, even as one brow lifted. “You don’t believe in love?”
“I absolutely believe in love. I already had that. It’s great. Beyond everything. You’ll enjoy it with Joaquin as will Emmaline with Lucas.”
“What about having it again?”
Such a tempting thought, that it might be so simple. “Seriously, Sara, my heart is full. My first wife, Wells…”
“What if you and Charlie have children? Would you find room for them there?”
He blinked. “Of course. But that’s different.”
She seemed to consider this. “I don’t know why. A heart hasn’t any boundaries.”
Frustrated by his lack of a better explanation, he gazed through the open doorway toward his son. Wells stood between Emmaline and Lucas, but the man had his hand on his fiancée’s nape, the gesture both possessive and protective. She smiled up at him, the picture of contentment.
“Get your elbows out,” Sara said now, demonstrating. “Make a little room in there.”
He was prevented from having to find some adequate reply because Joaquin was bearing down on them, his warm gaze fixed on his wife’s face. Like he couldn’t bear to be parted from her.
God, he remembered that, he thought, and bitterness began welling inside him. They were all so fucking happy. So in love. And damn it all, Charlie deserved that.
Pain throbbed at his temples.
He’d found that feeling, lost it…never to be had again. Or…
Make a little room in there.
The love of that lifetime. Seems like you’re beginning a new one.
Sara and Joaquin were murmuring to each other, and he stepped away, giving them space. Then he retrieved his wallet again, opened it to that picture.
Beautiful Charlie with her bright blue eyes. With her secrets and her willingness to enter into a practical marriage.
His boy, grinning up at her, all Best Boy in the Galaxy.
That didn’t seem a very practical thing to call one’s charge, Ethan thought. BTTBBITG didn’t seem like a very practical moniker for oneself, either.
It made him smile, that she didn’t have any clue about that. The pain in his head receded.
Then Ethan wiggled his elbows a little, metaphorically of course, experimentally, but he attempted to see if he could make some room without lessening the space for what had come before. For that marvelous thing he’d had that he might have lost from his life, but didn’t want to lose from his heart.
And he felt a shifting in his chest. A loosening. A change.
What if…?
Making his goodbyes brief and his thank yous sincere, he took leave of his son and the others and started down the beach. Back to home. Back to see about that forelsket. Back to determining what exactly he could have next in his life. This next life.
On the way home, he took off his shoes and began walking barefoot through the soft sand. Then he paused to roll up his jeans and trekked closer to the shoreline, splashing through the incoming waves. With the sun hot on his head and the Pacific a pleasant chill on his feet, he realized he’d not gone shoeless all summer.
No wonder he’d been feeling old.
He turned his head to look at the horizon, the symbol of limitless possibility that he could gaze upon every day, every hour if he liked, and knew he’d missed out on the view as well—seeing it, but not seeing it.
He’d overlooked so much, so sure that the way things had been for the last four years were the way things would always have to be.
Then his house came into sight, and at the deck railing stood Charlie, like a carved figurehead on a ship, the wind pressing her clothes to her body and causing her hair to stream behind her like a shining flag of brown and gold. She stared straight ahead, unaware of his approach, and he slowed, letting the look of her fill him up—with anticipation, with excitement, and with a primitive lust that made his cock begin to throb and his blood burn in his veins.
She was so damn beautiful.
He picked up his pace, his gaze never leaving her, and her head turned. Blue eyes nearly swallowed him up as he mounted the steps, and then she was within reach and his mood soared high, like a kite lifted by an ocean breeze.
Endorphins rushed through his system, and the high was a sweet taste on his tongue and the flush of heat on his skin. His hands flexed, needing to touch her, but he forced them to be still, trying to think of how to communicate all he wanted her to know.
Testosterone surged into his bloodstream, advising pure action.
Ethan tried reasoning with it, but she was so appealing in a little green lace dress that showed off her slim arms and long legs. He could see the press of her nipples against the fabric, and the decision was made.
“I wanted to talk to you.” His voice came out rough, abraded by the sudden tightness of his throat.
She swallowed, and he watched the pulse beat in her neck, focusing there like a predator eager for its first bite. “I have something to say to you, too,” she said.
“It’s going to have to wait,” he decided and snatched her into his arms.
His mouth latched onto hers and she opened for him, from the first instant the kiss proceeding without any pretensions of tenderness. That checked him for a moment because there was tenderness deep below the rising tide of lust. But now was not the time to dive for it. He was being borne away on the taste of her, the warm suppleness of her, the little jerk of her hips when he pressed his groin against hers.
He groaned. “God, I want inside that sweet pussy of yours. You make me greedy for the taste of it, I want the smell of you on me. All over me.”
“Ethan.” Closing her eyes, she melted against him. “When you say things like that…”
“When I say things like what?” he prompted, teasing. She was aroused, quivering in his hold. “Do you like it when I talk dirty to you?”
Her skin heated where he touched it, one palm at the small of her back, the other on her shoulder blade.
“I can’t think when you talk like that.”
“Good. I don’t want either one of us thinking right now.” He pressed his mouth to her neck, felt her shudder. “So I’m making a rule. It’s dirty talk or nothing from this moment on. Until tomorrow.”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes dazed. “You’ve been hiding this side of you beneath your cool businessman façade.”
He smiled. “My secret, baby.”
Her body stilled, and he felt her muscles gather to withdraw, but he only tucked her closer and whispered against her mouth. “I’m going to smear your juices on your breasts, suck them from your nipples. I’m going to paint your lips with your cum and share it with you when we kiss. I’m going to spend on you and massage my seed into your skin.”
She’d gone pliant at the first phrase and moaned as he finished the last. As smug as he might be about his ability to make her yield, the fact was, the images he described had primed him too. Pre-cum already seeped from his cock, and he urged her into the house now, desperate to do away with their clothes.
The westward windows of his bedroom were covered by filmy drapes, and the late afternoon sun filtering through them cast the room in a low, golden-orange glow. He could still hear the ocean over his laboring breaths, a quiet rumble that added to the sensual intensity of the moment. Charlie looked both mussed and flushed, and his horny hands couldn’t keep off her.
They found the hem of her dress and yanked upward. The stretchy fabric didn’t tear, but that wouldn’t have stopped him anyway. He tossed the garment aside then looked at what he’d revealed, his cock jerking at the sight of Charlie’s sleek body and smooth skin, wrapped only in transparent black bikini panties and a low-cut bra. Through them he could see the shy seam of her sex and the hard jut of her nipples.
More pre-cum spurted, and he needed to free his clamoring cock. His hands shook as he began to shuck off his clothes.
“Put your hand in your panties,” he told her. “Tell me how wet you are.”
She shuddered, and goose bumps broke out on her belly as her hand slowly breached the elastic stretched low on her hips. Biting her lip, she slipped her fingers over her mons.
Ethan set his jaw, hoping just watching that wouldn’t cause him to blow. “I know how hot you get there, Charlie. Puffy and hot. Slick. Is it that way now?”
She swallowed, nodded.
“Keep your hand right there,” he said, yanking back the covers on the bed. “And use the other to pull down your panties. Just to your knees.”
Her breathing sped up and his stopped altogether as she obeyed. To keep the scrap of fabric from falling to her ankles, she had to widen her thighs, in a pose so erotic that Ethan nearly dropped to the floor.
“Stay like that,” he growled, prowling toward her. Reaching around her back, he unfastened her bra and drew it away to bare her breasts. With her hand still at her pussy, the shoulder strap caught on her wrist.
“Sweet Lord,” he said, staring at her, his hand going to his ruddy, ready-to-rut cock. “What a picture you make.”
Her front teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, and she glanced down at herself, quivering again.
“I bet you’re getting slicker, baby.” He softened his voice to a coaxing tone. “Open up those swollen lips and show me your little clit. It wants my touch. I’m going to make it feel so good.”
Charlie moaned and then obeyed him again, her fingers moving to expose the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex peeking out from the hood. The inner surface of her pussy gleamed wetly, reminding him of all he’d promised her.
“All right, Charlie, lie back on the bed. You can let the bra and panties fall now.”
As if walking through a dream, his beauty moved as directed. His lungs were like bellows in his chest as he watched her position herself against the pillows. Then he crawled up from the foot of the bed and made a place for himself at her pussy, served to him hot and sweet.
He glanced up to see her gaze on him, her lids at half-mast, her mouth wet as if she’d just moistened it with her tongue.
Then he used his, licking her from clit to opening, spearing that with his tongue, fucking her with his mouth like he was going to do with his cock, hungrily. Ravenously.
When her juices were dripping from her, he dipped inside her and scooped up some on his fingers and slid up her body. He coated her areolas and her bunched nipples with her arousal, making her squirm on the sheets. Her hand went to his hair— cafuné —then her fingertips dug into his scalp as his mouth descended, licking and sucking and finally nipping at her there. She moaned, her hips lifting, and as he moved to the other breast, he dropped one arm over her hips, holding her down. Her body quaked against his grasp, and his cock leaked along the hot smoothness of her outer thigh. He couldn’t stop himself from stroking there, torturing himself.
When both nipples were wet and rosy, he lifted up to look down at them, admiring the swelling, quivering mounds.
Then he looked at her mouth, and he reached back to her pussy, gathering up more of her copious wetness. His fingertips glistened with it as he meticulously painted the delicious curves of her pretty lips until they gleamed.
“Open,” he whispered.
When she did, he spread what juices remained onto her tongue. She closed around his digits, sucking in instinctive response and he groaned, then yanked them free in order to kiss her.
Deep, long kisses, with the heady flavor of her arousal binding each one to the next.
His hand drifted down to palm her breasts, and she lifted into his touch, her own hands wandering over his back and then his chest. He yanked a curious palm away from his cock, too primed to withstand more stimulation without blowing.
She made a little sound of frustration, and he lifted his lips long enough to mutter, “Next time,” and then he was tasting her again. He’d never get enough.
When they both were panting and he was about to lose his mind, he turned her over, pulling her up onto her knees. God, his favorite position, with the elegant sweep of her spine in his line of sight, her ass tipped upward for him, her hips there for him to grip. Her entire body ready for his cock to plunder.
He did, in one determined stroke, and she cried out. This time he didn’t wait for her to get used to his size and presence. She was wet and so swollen that he nearly went blind with the searing pleasure of it. His breath came in rough gasps as he drove in and out of her. Her fingers clutched the sheets, and she pushed back, into each stroke. He dropped his head, reveling in the tight heat of her.
Then he hunched over her, one hand sliding around to find her clit. “You’re gripping me like a fist, baby,” he said in her ear. “You like me fucking you?”
Her eyes closed. “Oh, God.”
“Tell me you like me fucking you.”
“I love it.”
“You love the way my balls are smacking your pussy?”
At the dirty words, her inner muscles clenched him tighter. He groaned, and those balls drew up more.
“You better come fast, baby,” he said, his strokes jerky now. “Because I’m about to pull out and lash your back with my cream.”
That last word pushed her over. She shuddered, and her pussy walls contracted around him, milking his cock so he had to grit his teeth or lose it too. As her spasms faded, he yanked out of her. Then, with his knees keeping her thighs spread wide, he jacked himself, rough and desperate, until his cum boiled up his cock and shot from the tip, streams of it landing on her skin to pool in that hollow at the small of her back.
Empty, he collapsed beside her, kissing her hot cheek, her lax mouth. He pushed her damp hair away from her forehead and pressed his mouth there too, then moved his hand down her sleek back to the puddle of his cum.
Maybe it was filthy as fuck, but she didn’t do more than sigh as he massaged the round curves of her ass with the stuff. When there was little left of his seed, he hesitated. What the hell, he thought. Now might not be the time to say this, in the aftermath of delicious, intense sex, but he couldn’t stop himself from a silent form of communication.
With a fingertip coated in cum, he wrote three words between the dimples on her lower back.
I love you.