She moved at last, rubbing the sheet over her face then slowly lowering it so he could get his first look at it. Her lips were swollen and he could see chafe marks from a man’s rough beard. His jaw became a solid piece of rock as he noticed other things and tried to keep that knowledge off his face.
Maybe she saw something—he wasn’t sure, but she released the sheet and rubbed trembling fingers over the side of her neck, then lifted the fingers higher to push back her hair and clutched at her head as she began to rock to and fro again.
Ethan’s fingers twitched; she saw it happen. ‘I’m all right,’ she said jerkily. ‘I just need to—’
Get a hold on what has happened to me, he finished for her mentally. ‘How bad was it?’ He had to ask the question even though he knew she did not want to answer it. But this could well be the kind of scene that required a doctor and the police to investigate.
But Eve shook her head, refusing to answer. Then, from seemingly out of nowhere, a huge sob shook her from shoulders to feet and she was suddenly gulping out the tears with a total loss of composure.
A silent sigh ripped at the lining of his chest. ‘Look, Eve, will you let me hold you? You need to be held but I don’t want to—’
‘You hate me.’ She sobbed.
‘No, I don’t.’ This time the sigh was full-bodied and heavy. ‘I’ll go and call the police.’ He went to get up.
‘No!’ she cried, and without any warning she slid to the ground between his spread knees and landed heavily against his chest, almost knocking him over in the process.
As he flexed muscles to maintain his balance, she began sobbing brokenly into his shoulder. It was a dreadful sound—the sound nightmares were made of. Her arms went around his neck and began clinging tightly. The sheet began to slip, and with his jaw locked like a vice against the gamut of primitive emotion building inside him, Ethan caught the sheet, replaced it over her shoulders, then took a chance and wrapped his arms round her to just hold her while she cried herself out.
Her tears began to wet his shoulder and neck, mingling with her breath as she sobbed and quivered. She smelt of alcohol and something much more sweetly subtle, and he hoped she hadn’t noticed that her naked breasts were pressing against his equally naked chest. She felt warm and soft and so infinitely fragile it was like holding a priceless piece of art. As his eyes took in the debacle of their surroundings, he couldn’t think of a less likely setting or situation to discover that he was holding the perfect woman in his arms.
The unexpected thought stopped his train of thought. Maybe he tensed; he was certainly shocked enough to have turned into a pillar of rock. Whatever, the sobbing grew less wretched, the grip on his neck began to ease. Old tensions erupted, defensive barriers began to climb back into place. He could actually feel Eve taking stock of the situation. The sobs quietened, silence came and within it her distress changed to a self-conscious embarrassment.
She had noticed the intimacy of their embrace.
Untangling her fingers from round his neck, Eve lifted her head out of his shoulder, then drew away from him just enough to gather the sheeting around her front. She couldn’t believe she had done that—couldn’t believe she had just sobbed her heart out on Ethan Hayes of all people, nor that she had done it with her bare breasts flattened against his naked chest.
So now what did she do? she asked herself helplessly, and put a hand up to cover the aching throb taking place behind her heavy eyes. He didn’t speak, though she wished he would because she just didn’t know what to say to him.
‘I’m sorry,’ were the weak words that eventually left her.
‘Please don’t be,’ he returned, sounding so stiff and formal that she wanted to shrivel up and die.
But at least he moved at last by sitting back on his ankles to place some much needed distance between them, and Eve dared herself a glance at that hair-covered chest she could still feel warm and prickly against her breasts. She liked the sensation, just as she liked the way she could taste the moist warmth of his skin on her lips.
Oh—what is happening to me? In trembling confusion brought the sheet up to cover her face again. Beyond her hiding place the silence in the room throbbed. What was he thinking? What did he really want to do? Get up and leave? Wishing he hadn’t come in here at all? Why not? She knew what Ethan Hayes thought of her. She knew he was seeing only what he would have expected to see.
In his eyes she was a flirt, a man-teaser with no scruples to stop her from going that step too far. Well, Mr Hayes, she thought behind the now damp sheet. Here I am where you probably always predicted I would end up, hoisted by my own petard.
‘Say something!’ she snapped out. She couldn’t bear the silence.
‘Tell me what happened here.’
‘I don’t remember!’ The words and their accompanying sob drove her to her feet. Only, her legs wouldn’t support her; they felt like two rubber bands stretched so taut they quivered. And how he knew that, she didn’t understand! But he was on his feet and using a hand on her arm to support her as he guided her down onto the edge of the bed.
She was in shock. In one part of her wretched head, Eve was aware of that. She was even able to appreciate that Ethan did not quite know what to do in the situation he found himself in.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I can’t seem to th-think straight.’ Taking a deep breath she made a concerted effort
to be rational. ‘W-we were all at Aidan’s beach house. It was my birthday party and I suppose we were all a little bit tipsy. Aidan was mixing cocktails…’
Her voice trailed off, her mind drifting back over the following few minutes when Raoul had sat down beside her and they’d talked and had drunk…
After that she could remember nothing until she’d found herself back here and Raoul had been undressing her. ‘It’s okay, Eve.’ She echoed Raoul’s soothing words back to herself, unaware that what had come before had only been replayed inside her head. ‘You are back home. I am putting you to bed…’
Bed. Her stomach revolted, forcing her back to her feet and off that dreadful piece of furniture! On her rubber-band legs she stumbled, her hand went out to grab at something to steady herself with and it had to be a rock-solid bicep belonging to Ethan Hayes. The worst of it was, she didn’t want to let go again. She never wanted to let go! Why was that? she asked herself dizzily. Why was it that this man with this cold hard expression that so disapproved of her, could fill her with such a warm feeling of strength of trust?
She didn’t know. In fact she didn’t think she knew anything for certain any more. ‘I believed him.’ Staring up at Ethan’s mask-like face, her own revealed a shocked lack of comprehension at her own gullibility. ‘How could I have done that?’ she cried. ‘How could I not have known there was more to his motives than…?’