Hard Sell| ETHMA

7

ETHAN
Saturday Morning, September 23

I'm not sure what annoys me more. That Emma's been one step ahead of me the entire time, and I didn't have a clue, or the fact that I want her like crazy, even as I know that, too, is probably part of her plan.

Or maybe not, I amend as I study her expression in the mirror's reflection. Five minutes ago, she looked smug as can be after she ensured our "relationship" made it onto the socialite gossip chain.

Now she's both mad and turned on.

Probably mad because she's turned on.

I can relate.

"Get out." She says the words calmly. All the heat comes from the lethal warning glint in her eyes.

"Okay," I murmur, letting my lips almost touch her ear but not quite. I tell myself to release her. To honor our agreement, but my damn body won't obey.

She hisses out a little breath at the contact, even as she arches toward me, her body belying her words.

"Seriously? You can't go one month without sex?"she says.

I grit my teeth in frustration. "You're telling me I'm the only one wanting right now?"

My other hand slides up her waist until my fingers brush the underside of her bra. In response, she bats my hand away, and even in my irritation, I nearly smile, because it's so her. So us.

She whirls toward me, and the air all but crackles around us. With anger, with sexual tension, with whatever else is between us, always.

I wish I knew what it was. I'm not sure it has a name. Because even though I know down to my very core I'm not cut out for the monogamous-relationship thing—I don't want a serious girlfriend ever, much less a wife—the woman in front of me is the only one who's ever made me think maybe.

Maybe.

Helpless against the onslaught, I do the only thing I can think of. I kiss her.

My fingers tangle in her hair, and my mouth is urgent as it claims hers.

She stiffens immediately, her hands going to my shoulders, ready to shove me off.

I gentle my touch, even as I ease closer. I let her know that she can step away if she chooses, but I intend to make damn sure she makes another choice.

I kiss the corner of her mouth softly. Kiss me back.
My lips drift over her stubborn jaw. Want me back.
I feel the moment she capitulates, her small body softening against mine. I pull her closer, my mouth finding hers again . . .

"Emma, how's everything fitting?"

Emma reels back at the sound of the saleswoman's chipper voice, and she slaps her hand against my mouth, her eyes commanding. Be quiet.

"I'm all good, Mon, thanks!" Emma says with an equally chipper tone. I'll give her credit—her voice is as smooth and even as it always is. Not easy to ruffle, this one.

Monica, however, doesn't get the hint. "You need another size on anything? I've had a couple people tell me that the off-the-shoulder dress is running a bit snug."

"Haven't gotten to that one yet. I'll let you know," Sabrina says, pressing her palm more firmly against my mouth.

"Isn't that blue turtleneck gorge?" Monica babbles on. "The second I saw it, I knew it would look uh-mazing on you."

"I love it," Emma says. "It's definitely going home with me."

I narrow my eyes, because I'm pretty sure she hasn't even seen the shirt yet.