ChapterEleven
Once inside, Delaney headed upstairs. She got ready for bed, mind whirling with all the events of the day and the revelation that she and Ethan had a lot of unresolved business that couldn’t be solved by a simple apology. She opened her drawer and dug through her nightclothes, but her fingers lingered on Ethan’s oversized sweatshirt. Before she lost her nerve, she pulled that over her head and sat on the bed, hands fisted in her lap. Footsteps echoed outside her door and her breath froze, but they continued past her door to the next one. She glanced at the wall. Crap. The walls weren’t exactly soundproof, and she didn’t want to air their dirty laundry in front of everyone else, especially Anna, who slept on the other side of the wall. Another set of footsteps came up the stairs and stopped before her door. Ethan’s door opened across from her and closed.
She waited several minutes, then opened her door, looking both ways, then darted across. Thankfully, his door was unlocked, and she slipped in. The light was on in the attached bathroom, so Delaney tiptoed across the room and laid across his bed, allowing the neckline to slip down past one shoulder in what she had hoped was a seductive pose. Ethan splashed water in the bathroom and, as the minutes ticked by, Delaney’s anxiety built.
This was a terrible idea. They were a terrible idea. Courage failing, she sat up and swung her legs to the floor, but before she could bolt, the bathroom door opened and Ethan stood framed in the doorway, shirtless, a towel wrapped around his neck, and his pants slung low on his hips. Her mouth dried at the sight and she swallowed past the lump of nerves in her throat. Water glistened on his face, a few drops beading and rolling down to drop on his chest. Her gaze followed the river of water and she swallowed. Hard. Vineyard work certainly agreed with him.
“Delaney. What are you doing here?”
“I think we need to talk.”
“I’ve said all I needed to. This isn’t a good idea.”
“No, we haven’t said anywhere near everything we need to. We’ve said all the politically correct things. I’m sorry. And I forgive you and all the words we should say as mature adults, but we haven’t gotten to the meat of the matter. And we haven’t discussed that kiss.” She stood and reached for him.
His face shuttered, and he tossed the towel into the bathroom. He leaned against the doorjamb, staying out of reach, crossed his arms, and studied her. “Okay, so talk. Wait, is that my rowing sweatshirt?”
She glanced down, knowing full well what it was, but wanting to buy some time. “This? I don’t think so. I think I bought it at the university store years ago.”
He stalked around the bed to stand on the same side as her. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s mine. There’s that paint stain when we painted the boathouse. It’s mine and I think I want it back.”
She cocked her hip. “If you want it, come and get it.”
Then she realized he had cleverly backed her into a corner, the bed and him between her and the door. She glanced at both and scurried across the bed. He snagged the tail of the fleece and hauled her back until she lay on her back on the bed. He settled himself over her, his legs blocking hers and his arms caging her neatly to the mattress. Her sweatshirt rode up, baring her panties and stomach. He lowered his hips until she could feel his desire through the thin lace of her panties, the friction of his pants bringing the need that had been simmering all night exploding to the surface.
Her lips curved in a smile. “Now that you’ve caught me, what are you going to do with me?”
* * *
Delaney’s eyes shifted from teasing to uncertain as time dragged on. Ethan struggled to maintain control, but the feel of her body beneath him, inches from heaven, taunted him. Flashes of the alley flickered in his brain. Her sounds, her taste, the feel of her going up in flames in his arms threatened to push him over the edge before they’d even started. She wiggled her hips, and the shirt rode up higher, exposing her bare midriff and the pink lace panties barely hiding her from his gaze. She grazed his cock, and he gritted his teeth against the sensual heat of desire that almost made him end the night before they had even started. He closed his legs around hers, trapping them in place, reducing the space she had to wiggle. He then lifted one hand and cupped her cheek, rubbing a thumb against her soft lower lip.
Her chest heaved as she stared at him, nerves reflected in her dark blue eyes. Slowly, he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his. Once. Twice. Three times. She softly exhaled and her lips slackened. He settled his lips more firmly over hers, tongue sweeping in for a taste of minty toothpaste. She moaned and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him down fully against her. She ran her hands along his back, tracing the firm ridge of his muscles. He shivered under her touch and kissed his way down her throat, her pulse pounding against the soft skin. He nipped at the sensitive spot, then soothed it away with a lick of the tongue, tasting the salt and musk that was uniquely Delaney, a taste that he had never fully forgotten, no matter how many women he’d slept with in the intervening years.
Thoughts of other women threw a dash of cold water on the moment. He lifted off her for a moment, frowning. Her face showed the same confusion and lust darkening her eyes. She pushed her hands against the bed, sliding out from under him. Her soft, smooth skin rubbing against his legs and bare chest sent frissons of awareness throughout his body, begging him to hold her in place, kiss her again, make her forget the past, keep her right where she was. Instead, he heaved himself away to stand on the other side of the queen-sized bed, watching her as she scrambled to her feet, her face red and chest heaving.
She scrambled to her feet, struggling to catch her breath. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry.” She ripped the sweatshirt over her head and tossed it on the bed. “Here.”
She fled the room before he could stop her.
* * *
Sleep was a long time coming for Ethan. He tossed and turned, body begging for some form of release. After a while, he tossed the covers back and stalked to the French doors and onto the balcony. His room didn’t overlook the ocean, but he could hear the rushing of the waves. The night breeze wafted over his heated skin, cooling him on the surface, but beneath, the fire in his blood raged. He gripped the iron railing, all to resist the urge to go across the hall and slip into bed with Delaney.
No, he had to remember why they weren’t together. It didn’t matter how right it felt in his bed, how good it felt to be with her again. She had bailed on him. Tossed him aside when the going got tough.
He sighed. That wasn’t exactly fair. Back then, all he could focus on was getting through the scandal. Her family wasn’t the only one affected by it. His father had been called to task by several investors that had invested. Their reputation had suffered, and they had to answer allegations of collusion, wrongdoing, and criminal actions because of their support of Martin Winters. The SEC had finally been satisfied, along with the federal authorities, and no charges had been filed. Their own investors had been slower to forgive. He had worked alongside his father during the long days and nights, repairing their relationships with clients and staff, and maybe those long hours away from Delaney had caused her to doubt him.
She had had her own challenges to deal with. A mother who had had a nervous breakdown and the death of her father. Instead of clinging to him, letting him help her, she pushed him and everyone else away. It culminated in that fateful charity event, while he was preoccupied with his phone and messages from his father and the legal staff, when she broke their engagement, then fled before they could discuss it. After a few ignored calls, voice mails, and even visits, he gathered up the remnants of his wounded pride and the pieces of his heart, and walked away, assuming she would reach out. When that didn’t happen, he tried to move on, dating several women publicly, flaunting them in front of Delaney at the art museum fund-raiser. It almost tore his heart out when she saw him. She reminded him of the time he went hunting with his father and a couple of his buddies. He had sighted a deer in the scope and the look it gave him, a knowing, sad look, made him put the rifle down without firing the shot. The deer had been too far away to even know he was the target, and his father said he was personalizing the animal. But Ethan had never forgotten the look.
Delaney had had that same look, the haunted, sad, resigned look in her eyes. He didn’t even remember who he had taken to the fund-raiser, but he was ashamed now to remember how he had intentionally kissed the girl he was with, leading to a whole other set of expectations from the girl.
It was at that point he decided time away would be best for him, the family, and the business. He headed out of Houston, on a self-imposed exile, not expecting to love the vines, but he did. At first, the work was just what he needed, falling into bed too tired to think or dream every night. Eventually, the pain faded to a dull ache, and he ventured out, dating in the area and having a casual, nonexclusive arrangement with Cami Spencer, the daughter of a family friend. Kira, his stepmother, and his father both hoped they would connect and unite the families, much as they had hoped with him and Delaney. But he didn’t have a spark with her, and he refused to marry out of duty, no matter how hard his father pushed for him to settle down, to return to Houston, to take up his place in the family business.
Now he was back on the island, where they had fallen in love, and he was afraid it was happening again. They were different people now. Too much time had passed, too many challenges to them, but they were here again. And the spark was still there, banked and smoldering, but he knew, with the slightest bit of encouragement, it would blaze into an inferno.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t burn them both again.