Page 45 of Room for Us
He laughs, low and delighted. “While you were headed to what section?”
“Historical fiction.”
“Ah. I can see that.”
Shifting to face him, I draw one of my knees to my chest. “You didn’t tell me what happened after dinner tonight.”
He clears his throat. Glances away as if embarrassed. “I signed some copies for them. It’s no big deal.”
I grin. “I’m so going to Google you.”
He smiles blithely. “You won’t find much beyond over-edited bios and staged photographs. I keep a low profile. But if you really want to know about me, Zoey, there’s one surefire way to do it.”
I’m afraid I know what’s coming next.
And I do.
“Read the books.”
“Do they have CliffsNotes?”
His burst of laughter startles an owl out of the trees. The small, pale body glides briefly through our line of sight before disappearing into the darkness.
As the warm rumble of Ethan’s laughter fades away, we smile at each other.
I look away first. “I should head to bed.”
“Having tea with a famous person not exiting enough for you?”
I smirk. “Sleep is my favorite pastime.”
His gaze drops to my lips, and suddenly all the pressure from earlier is back times a thousand.
“Don’t kiss me!” I yelp.
His eyes widen. “Why the hell not?”
Because I won’t want you to stop.
“Because… because… I’ll spill my tea!”
Ethan grabs my cup and tosses it over the porch railing, tea and all. It thumps on the ground. His cup sails after. There’s a sharp crack as the ceramic breaks on a rock.
“Whoops.”
I’m laughing when his mouth finds mine, hot and soft and scented with chamomile. His fingers slide along my neck and into my hair to cup my head.
I break away with a gasp. “You don’t follow directions well.”
He grins. “I’m a rebel.”
His mouth returns to mine. Soft, tender exploration inexorably melts my resistance. When he kisses me on the nose, I surrender and throw my arms around his shoulders, pulling myself tight against him. My breasts against his chest trigger a deepening of intensity—his fingers coax my jaw open. When our tongues meet, a whimper escapes me.
“You taste so good,” he murmurs, “Smell so good. I can’t get enough of your scent.”
So that’s what he was trying to say outside the bar. Not that I smelled… but that I smelled good. Contentment purrs in my chest. My hands move into his hair, soft and thick on my fingers.
“Come here. Closer.” He pulls me over his lap, guiding my leg so I’m straddling him. When I lower my weight, his arousal presses hot against the seam on my jeans. He grunts. “He can’t stop thinking about you.”
