Still Into You (10 page)

“I can’t believe you’re seven years old now. You make me feel old,” he commented, kissing the young girl’s forehead. Kaitlyn had grabbed a hold of his heart as easily as Mia had. He loved that little girl and wouldn’t hold it against her that she was a reminder of what he could have with Mia.

“That’s because you are,” she said matter-of-factly.

Wait. What?

“I am?” he exclaimed.

“But not as old as Daddy. He’s really old!” she said, her eyes wide.

He regarded Mia, her lips pressed together as she tried not to laugh. She didn’t do that good of a job because even though no sound came out of her mouth, her body was shaking.

“Hey, Kaitlyn! Uncle Ethan is the same age as I am,” Luke said.

“No way!” she said incredulously. She looked back and forth between the two men.

“Yes way!” he said, tickling his daughter. She cackled loudly, squirming in Ethan’s arms. Luke took her from him and continued to tickle her as he walked back into the family room.

Mia watched the two leave and then turned to him. “How you doing, old man?” she asked, laughter still lacing her voice. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her to quiet her giggles.

“Do I look like an old man?” he asked, eyeing her.

She ran her thumb over her lips, looking at him. “Uh, definitely not,” she replied, her dark eyes traveling down his chest. He loved seeing her turned on, the way her eyes darkened and her eyelids drooped lower, and especially the way her mouth reacted with the slight upturn of her lips.

“When do you have to be at the arena?” he asked, needing to be with her again. After the show, she was heading back on the tour bus. This was his last chance.

She grabbed her phone out of her pocket and checked. “Five thirty.” She then quirked a dark eyebrow in a silent question, yet there was a slight twinkle in her eyes that told him she knew exactly what he was asking. He touched her cheek with the knuckle of his bent index finger.

“Do you have to be ready by then?” he asked.

“Why? What are you thinking?” she asked, regarding him suspiciously.

“Well, it’s four o’clock now and it takes about thirty minutes to get downtown. I was thinking about a quick stop,” he explained, his own eyebrows raised and a smile played with his mouth. “You interested?”

The smile she returned was soft and accompanied by a gentle brush of her lips on his chin. “I am.”

His fingers wrapped around her forearm and he guided her to the family room so they could say their goodbyes to Luke and Kaitlyn. The little girl teared up saying goodbye. Mia steeled herself against the emotion of saying goodbye to Kaitlyn when the little girl threw her arms around Mia’s waist in a fierce hug. Her eyes closed as the girl cried out that she didn’t want Mia to leave.

After a few moments, Mia disengaged herself from the squirt’s tight grip and dropped to her knees, lifting the girl’s chin with a closed hand.

“Remember—Disney World this summer, okay?” Mia consoled.

Kaitlyn sniffed sadly. “Okay.”

“I love you, squirt,” she said, pulling the girl into her arms and hugging her.

“I love you, Mia,” Kaitlyn said with a sniffle.

As Mia stood up, she took a deep breath, turned to Luke, and let him wrap her in his arms. He kissed her forehead. “You take care of yourself, sweets. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” she said, her lips brushing against his cheek as she spoke again. “I love you.”

“I know,” he said, smiling down at her. “I love you, too.”

He then whispered something in her ear. Ethan couldn’t make it out, but it made her smile, and for that, he was thankful.

She followed him into the study to get their coats and her bag. He went straight for their coats, but stopped at Mia’s clearing of her throat. Turning around, he watched in amazement as she put her hands up and under her skirt and pulled down her tiny, red panties. She smiled at him and stuffed the underwear in her pocket.

Mia literally wiped his mind of any intelligence he ever had with her sudden disrobing. Ethan couldn’t think. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. All he kept seeing was his hand sliding up her skirt, feeling the heat he knew would be there.

When he finally broke through her spell, he grabbed her bag and their coats with one hand and her wrist with the other and stalked out of the house towards his car. He eventually slid his hand down and entwined his fingers with hers. In response she gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze. She knew exactly how he felt. He unlocked the car and threw the bag in the backseat when what he really wanted to do was to throw her back there and fuck the smile right off her face.

He needed to calm himself down or he’d take her with no finesse. “I want you, Mia. Here and now.”

“And this is a problem how?” she asked innocently.

Grrr . . .

“Get in the car,” he ordered.

“Seriously?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

“No way, Mia,” he answered. God, her obvious want just increased the desire to throw her in the backseat and fuck her.

He eyed the front seat, a silent order for her to get in. Mia scrambled and got herself in the car. Closing her door, Ethan then hurriedly got in himself. When he finally pulled into his driveway, Ethan let himself breathe. He opened the garage and pulled his car inside. Shifting the car to park, he turned off the engine.

“We’re here,” he announced.

“We are,” she said calmly as she undid her seatbelt. Then all hell broke loose.

Fuck finesse.

Yanking her onto his lap, he captured her mouth in a possessive kiss. He pushed the seat back while she tugged on his pants, freeing his hard cock. With her skirt bunched up at her waist, she took him in her hand. He moaned, thrilled to have her touch upon him again. He held her dark eyes as she lowered herself onto him. His eyes shuttered closed when he felt how tight and warm she was.

Oh, sweet heaven.

He wanted to come right then and there. He needed to refocus, distract himself so he wouldn’t appear to be a horny teenager having sex for the first time.

Stopping her, he took off his shirt and unbuttoned hers. He needed to feel her breasts against him. But before that, he had other business to attend to. He placed his hand beneath her breast, holding it like a prize. And it was. His prize.

He leaned in and placed his lips on the swollen mound, letting them travel all over before covering her nipple with his mouth, sucking on the sweet, pointed peak. He held her hips as she rocked back and forth. He thrust up, matching her movements. He saw it in her face. She was close. Time to pick up the pace.

Ethan moved harder, faster, until she screamed his name with her release. She clamped down on him, sending him over, filling her as he let everything he had flow into her.

Her breathing was heavy as she held him to her. She kept adjusting her grip, tighter and tighter. He smiled because he quite enjoyed her death grip on him. She didn’t want to let go. That gave him a little bit of hope, more than he’d had over the past month.

“Ethan, I, uh,” she stuttered softly, her long, graceful fingers caressing the back of his neck. “I don’t have to leave tonight. I actually don’t have to be in Detroit until Thursday. And, in the meantime, I was actually just going to head back to Chicago.”

Internally, he did a happy dance. Thank God! She wanted to stay. He wanted to ask her to stay, but he said not a word. He wanted her to take this step, tell him what she wanted.

“Uh . . . so,” she spoke, her hands sliding down his back to his hips where she toyed with the waist of his jeans, “Would you mind if I stayed a little longer?”

He rested his forehead against hers, kissing the tip of her nose. She did it and it made him so happy.

“I definitely wouldn’t mind that. But—”

“But?” she asked, clearly surprised and her voice carried some uncertainty in it.

“But, you will have to cook me at least one meal.”

She shook her head and let out a soft chuckle. “I can totally do that for you. Maybe even more.”

“I like that answer,” he replied, very pleased by this turn of events. He wouldn’t be saying goodbye today after all.

The next morning, Ethan woke up to a feast, courtesy of Mia. The kitchen table was covered in food: French toast, eggs, sausage, and grilled potatoes with onions and peppers. There was even cut up fruit and fresh squeezed orange juice. He didn’t know how she did it. He was pretty sure he didn’t have half of that food in his house last night.

He could tell she enjoyed cooking. Though having her sit on the counter while he ate and having her exclaim, “God, I miss being in a kitchen,” would have clued him into that as well.

Later in the afternoon, they went grocery shopping and filled his car with food. When they returned home, she set about preparing food for their next several meals.

After lunch, she took a break from all her cooking and sat with him in the family room to watch a movie. About halfway through, she fell asleep against him, her head on his shoulder. Instead of leaving her there to sleep on the sofa, he chanced carrying her up to their bed.

She didn’t wake when he placed her on the bed. Nor did she wake when he took off her shoes. No, she woke at the best time, when he curled behind her and nuzzled her neck. She whimpered in pleasure when his fingers skimmed her breasts before he covered them with his hands.

He made love to her nice and slow. They savored each other. There was a whole new level of intimacy between them, the difference being the vulnerability she could no longer hide. It transferred to their lovemaking. She was more open, less guarded towards him, more emotional. When they were in bed together, things were wonderful. But outside of the bedroom, it was a different story entirely.

Things were strained. Maybe that’s one reason she wanted him to make love to her so often. She just had to feel him, not think about things.

Around the house that he considered theirs, she seemed uncomfortable. He wanted to yell at her, remind her that this was her house too. That she wasn’t a guest. Yeah, he knew the discomfort didn’t come from that. It was a lot bigger than that. Something that he was having a hard time accepting.

Something was eating at her. He saw it at weird times. Well, not really weird, just anything that involved them being a couple. Like the time he caught her standing outside of his study, staring at the pictures of them.

Another example: when they arrived back late Sunday night after her final Indy show, he’d put her suitcases in the closet right by her side of the room, the space with all her clothes still hanging there, expecting her to unpack.

She hadn’t. He knew she was leaving in a few days for her shows, but his ultimate goal was to have her return to their house afterwards. And a step in that direction would have been for her to unpack.

Tuesday morning, Ethan woke up and panicked when he noticed Mia wasn’t next to him in bed. He raised himself up on his elbows and scanned the room. There she sat on the chaise lounge, her knees bent, writing in her notebook.

“Did you wake up early?” he called out, turning on the bedside light. She closed her notebook and clutched it to her chest. She slowly turned her gaze towards him and shook her head. She tried to smile at him but her mouth trembled and her eyes glistened. “Suga, what’s going on?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answered quietly, her body as small as her voice.

“Why not?” he asked, concerned at the fear he heard in her voice.

“Nightmare,” she replied simply, but her eyes were wide. Looking closer, he noticed her pale face and her damp and overly bright eyes.

“Come here, suga,” he ordered, holding out his hand. She placed her notebook on the table and hurried to him. He tenderly wrapped his arms around her, hoping she got some comfort from it. With his mouth against her ear, he asked, “Want to tell me about it?”

“Actually, I kind of do.”

His heart lifted. She actually wanted to tell him something. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself. He tenderly pushed her hair aside and kissed her neck before saying, “Okay.”

With a determined breath, she spoke the most she ever had about what troubled her. “I really hate the night and have had trouble sleeping since I was eight.”

He stayed silent, hoping for more, but she kept shifting her position, like she couldn’t get comfortable, and when she was still, she really wasn’t. Her leg shook like a seven-point-zero earthquake. She blew out a series of shaky breaths and he knew she was having trouble telling him. Maybe if he started asking questions . . .

“That’s the event, isn’t it?” he asked, rubbing her forearm.

“Yes,” she said, but it came out like a sob. She tried to say more, her mouth opening and closing, but nothing came out. Whatever it was, held her back, choked her. Her breathing was erratic. She grasped onto his arms for dear life before pulling away, clawing at her chest. She sat in the middle of the bed, trying and trying to get the words out. He watched her and about fell apart when her face crumbled and raking sobs flowed where they both wished for words. Gathering her in his arms, he rocked her like he would a frantic child. He held her head to his chest, knowing how the sound of his heartbeat calmed her. She clutched at him, her face buried against him, and finally spoke. “Why won’t it come out? Why can’t I say the words?”