It’s quite the sight: that towering athlete with cucumber slices over his eyes, receiving a massage from a tiny elderly lady who seems to be enjoying the experience more than he is.

As long as he doesn’t see me, I’m safe. I flee the spa to my room, still in the hotel robe, and lock myself in for the rest of the day.

I’m so embarrassed that all I want to do is avoid Ethan for the foreseeable future.

Later that night, Tania calls with an update on our new projects, but I go to sleep feeling uneasy and lonelier than I have in a long time.

I have a dream. A very steamy one. It’s with Ethan, and the detail is so vivid.

In the dream, Ethan accepts the invitation to my room and shoves me inside with a powerful grip and impressive stride, not even closing the door behind us.

He kisses me, hungry and impatient, lighting a fire in me that makes me whimper helplessly.

Ripping my shirt off, he tosses me in bed and gets me tangled in satin sheets.

The rest of my clothes are torn off my body with ease, and he dives mouth-first into me, making my body feel like an ocean of peaches and cream.

I can feel him inside me. Without a word, just soft, deep, and sexy grunts, Ethan moves back and forth inside me, easily bringing me to climax not only once, but twice.

I was bordering on the third time, when the alarm clock wakes me up, and gasping for air, I run to the bathroom to take a cold shower.

However, I’m still throbbing when I start my workday. Even though I’m distracted, I do what I can to stay focused.

I have a press conference to organize, so I keep busy briefing temporary staff, coordinating technicians setting up lights and sound, and reviewing the lineup of journalists.

By the end of the day, thoughts of the dream and Ethan are a distant memory. That is, until we find ourselves waiting for the same elevator in the hotel lobby.

“You look exhausted,” Ethan observes, breaking the ice. He looks tired too, likely from a day of intense training.

“I am…” I murmur, turning away to hide my flushed face as memories from my dream flood back.

“Hmm, I think I’ll take the stairs,” I blurt, eager to escape, but Ethan's hand on my shoulder stops me. Reluctantly, I turn to face him.

“Are you afraid of me, Mia?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“No, Ethan. Of course not,” I reply, pulling away from his touch, though a part of me doesn’t want to. Frustrated, I blurt out, “I just can’t stand you!”

Ethan laughs softly. The elevator arrives, and much to my dismay, we’re the only ones inside.

“May I ask why?” He inquires, sensing my discomfort.

I sigh with exasperation, struggling for words.

“You…” I’m lost, trying desperately to come up with a reason since telling him about my dream won’t work.

“You are just like your brother. You both left relationships you didn’t give value to.” It’s the first excuse that comes to mind, and I regret it instantly.

Ethan shakes his head gently. “That’s not true,” he counters simply. “I have no idea how Ryan left you feeling, but Amanda knows she was an important part of my life.”

I sigh, my shoulders slumping so low it feels like they will hit the floor.

Thankfully, the elevator reaches my floor a few seconds later. On a sudden impulse, I grab Ethan by the collar and kiss him passionately, biting his lip before the doors open.

“What was that for?” Ethan asks, surprised and touching his mouth.

The elevator doors open. I growl at him like a cornered animal, and storm out, knowing quite well that kiss was all that I’ve been wanting since I woke up this morning.

Chapter Eight