The Temptation of Lila and Ethan

Ethan clears his throat and then shuts his book, shoving back from the table. “So should we go celebrate?”



“Celebrate what?” I take a gulp of my soda to cool down my body.



He scoops up the keys without taking his eyes off me. “The job interview.” He stands up straight, closing his fingers around the keys. “By the way, where is it at?”



I set the soda can down on the table. “It’s at that bar.” I try not to go into the details on purpose because I’m not sure how he’s going to react.



“What bar?” He pushes the chair in and tucks the keys into the back pocket of his jeans.



“The one down on that street by the old section of Vegas,” I say evasively, pushing away from the table. I collect my can and head for the hallway. “I’m going to go to bed early, so I can get some rest for tomorrow.” I glance over my shoulder as I step through the doorway. “Rain check on the celebration? I only want to celebrate if I get the job.”



He scans me over quizzically. “Where’s the job interview, Lila?”



“Nowhere.” I walk quickly down the hall to avoid any more questioning. Once I make it to my room, I shut the door and breathe in the silence, but as soon as I step away from the door it opens and Ethan comes walking in.



“Where’s the interview, Lila?” he repeats, standing in the doorway, looking vexed.



I place the soda can down on one of the boxes I haven’t unpacked yet and then cross my arms. “Why is this bothering you so much? I thought you were just happy I finally had an interview.”



He shifts his weight and then sweeps his fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. “Because… you’re not…” He’s struggling and I’m twistedly finding it amusing. “You’re not applying to be a stripper, are you?” His gaze locks on me and fury burns in his eyes.



Without taking my eyes off him, I sit down on the foot of my bed. “Why would it matter if I was? I thought you loved strippers.”



He shrugs, casually leaning against the door. “It doesn’t matter, but it’s not the place for you. You’re too…” His gaze skims my entire body, making even the coolness of the air conditioning feel stifling.



“Too what?” I press.



His attention lingers on my chest and then he blinks, fixing his eyes on my face. “It’s nothing… you just don’t fit in a place like that.”



I bend my knee and unfasten my sandal, wiggling my foot out. “I think a lot of people would disagree with you.” I shake my chest and then roll my eyes. “What else am I good for?”



He remains by the doorway, grasping on to the doorknob. “You’re good for a lot of things, you just don’t see it.”



Okay, so that was a little bit sweet. “Like what exactly?” I toss my sandal into the closet without getting up. “I can’t do anything by myself. I mean, you had to teach me to work the dishwasher for crying out loud.”



He lets go of the doorknob and sits down beside me on the bed while I take off my other sandal. “So what? Everyone has to learn sometime. You’re just learning a little bit later than most people.”



“Because I’m a spoiled brat who had a maid.”



“You don’t any more, though. You’re becoming an independent, strong Lila.” He winks at me and gives me a lopsided grin. “And that Lila doesn’t belong in a strip club.”



I think I may have just fallen in love with him. No one has ever said something so nice to me or put that kind of confidence in my character. In fact, I’ve been told the opposite for as long as I can remember. Lila, you’ll never make it. Lila, you’re worthless. Lila, you’re messing up this family. No one will ever love you if you don’t change into something they can love. Be perfect. Be beautiful. Because no one will want you if you’re not.



“Even though I know you’re to going to get annoyed with me for saying it,” I begin, slipping my foot out of my sandal, “you’re seriously really sweet when you want to be.”



He frowns with annoyance. “I’m not sweet. I’m actually really, really mean.”



“You’re so full of it.” Once I get my shoe off, I flop back on the bed, not bothering to tug my shirt down when it rides up over my stomach. “I have to take more of my clothes down to that store tomorrow because I’m running out of money. Can you give me a ride? Or can I borrow your truck?”



He lies down beside me on the bed, surprising me, and turns his head toward me. “You say that like it’s the most tragic thing that’s ever happened to you.”



“It kind of is.” I pout with my arms overlapped on my stomach and my gaze fixed on the ceiling. “As shallow as it’s going to sound, I love my clothes.”



“You’ll get over it.” He runs his finger along my exposed stomach, right above the scar hidden behind the waistband of my shorts, and I fight back the urge to shiver and moan. “Besides, you’re not dressed up all fancy now.” He props up on his elbow, keeping his fingers on my stomach, although I’m not even sure he realizes they’re there. He peers down at my tight, purple T-shirt that Ella left behind and my denim shorts I’ve never worn until today. “And you look pretty fucking good.”



“I’m dressed this way because of where I applied.” I have to work to keep my lungs moving as he continues to trace his fingers back and forth across my stomach. The insides of my thighs are starting to shake, more than any other time a guy has touched me. “I had to play the part.”



“And what part is that?” He cocks an eyebrow and then playfully pinches my stomach right above my belly button and a hot sensation coils deep within me. “Come on, just tell me where you might be working because I’ll end up finding out anyway.”



I begrudgingly sigh. “Fine… at Danny’s Happenin’ Bar and Entertainment.”



His fingers stop moving and his eyebrows arch. “The one on the old strip?”



I nod, avoiding eye contact with him. “Yep, that’d be the one.”



His fingers stay on my stomach for what seems like forever, blinding me with heat and deafening me with desire. I’m so relieved by the time he pulls them away because I swear I’m seriously on the verge of having an orgasm. “You dance?”



I tilt my head toward him, finally encountering his gaze. “Why do you sound so surprised?”



He wavers, chewing on his lip. “It’s just hard to picture you dancing… like that.”



“What? Slutty? I don’t see why you’d be surprised about that.”



“It’s not slutty,” he says, still seeming puzzled as his eyes do a quick sweep of my body. “It’s… sexy and kind of erotic, at least from what I can remember. It’s been a while since I’ve been down there.”



“It’s not that sexy… I mean, I don’t take my clothes off or anything,” I explain. “It’s just dancing at a bar and sometimes on the bar, depending on what night. I get to wear normal clothes… well, normal tight clothes. And eventually they’ll teach me how to bartend.”



“I know what it is, Lila.” His hand lazily scrolls up my body again and I swear to God I’m going to melt from the heat emitting from his eyes. Then he catches sight of his fingers on my stomach and, blinking at them, he quickly pulls his hand away.



I sit up, no longer wanting to be on the bed with him because I’m seriously about ready to straddle his lap and force myself on him. “Look, I really need to get some rest.” I climb off the bed and backtrack to the door, opening it wider so he’ll get the hint to leave and let me be horny for him in peace.



He doesn’t get up, only pushes up on his elbows. “You want me to leave?” He fakes a sexy pout, trying to be mocking, but it comes off more mouthwatering than anything. “I thought you were going to show me the moves you used when you applied.”



I place my hand on my hip and give him an overdramatic look of aggravation. “Ethan, seriously, stop teasing me. I only had to fill out an application so far. Besides, you really don’t want to see me dance. You just want to try to make me blush or something.”



“Why would I ever want to do that?”



“Because… I have no idea. You tell me.”



He sits up and crosses his arms, his muscles flexing. “It’s just something to think about. You could practice on me.” He smirks. “I’m an excellent judge.”



I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you are.”



He chuckles under his breath, totally pleased with himself, and then he stands up. “Are you sure you want me to leave? I mean, I’m assuming that’s why you’re standing by the door, looking all hot and bothered.”



I open my mouth to say, “Get out please,” but nothing comes out. I never want him to leave, which is really bad. I could blame it on the fact that I like his company, but the fact of the matter is that I need him. “You want to watch a movie or something?”



He smiles broadly. “A sappy, poetic one maybe?”



I point a finger at him. “You know they don’t exist. We tried to find one on Netflix, remember?”



He sits up, ruffling his hair into place. “I’m sure one exists, we just haven’t looked hard enough… but we can watch a movie.”



“Which one?”



“Whatever you want?”



I raise my eyebrows to express my doubt. “And what if I say the girliest movie ever?”



He yawns, stretching his arms above his head, showing off his rock-hard abs and the artful ink on his skin. “Then I guess I’ll finally get a nap. I’ve been wanting to take one all day.”



I roll my eyes, but smile. “I secretly think you like girly movies,” I say as we head out into the living room.



He shakes his head, but I hear him laugh under his breath. “Not the movie, just the company that comes along with it.”