Page 39 of Catch
I trip over my feet, which for a competitive athlete is inordinately clumsy. Thankfully—or maybe not—Ethan reaches out to steady me before we slam into each other and tumble down the fucking stairs.
“Shit.”
His hands take hold of my biceps, and instead of wanting to push him away, I let him touch me. I don’t like the fact that I’m breathless or that his lips are dangerously close to mine. Fuck, I want to pull him in closer. This is bad. My head is telling me no, but my dick isn’t cooperating. I swallow hard, staring into his eyes while my heart knocks against my ribs so hard I’m sure Ethan can hear it.
“I’m all for sex in public places but slow it down a notch.”
“Not funny, Ethan. What are you doing here?”
I push at his chest but he’s solid, like the wall behind me,and he doesn’t move a freaking inch. He lets out a laugh, and I can smell cinnamon on his breath.
“I thought you left.”
Ethan chuckles. “Your words said leave, but your eyes said stay.”
“Did my words also say hide out in the stairwell and give me a heart attack?” I mutter. “How’d you know I’d be here anyway?”
Ethan shrugs.
“We have a psychic connection?”
I give him a glare, which only makes him laugh harder.
“Okay, so maybe I stayed behind and watched you coming out of your room, and since you were running like a bat out of hell, I assumed you were heading for the stairs. Figured you probably needed to run off whatever’s riding you.”
“Nothin’s riding me.”
“You can’t lie for shit.”
“Fine! I’m staring at what’s riding me,” I snap. “Now if you don’t mind, I need my arms back and in proper working order.”
Ethan does as I ask, but instead of pulling away, he rests both hands on the wall beside my head, caging me in. The pose isn’t casual, and neither is his gaze. My blood races fierce and fast and it’s all rushing south.
“Why do you smell so fucking good all the time?” he asks.
“As if.”
“It’s the truth. I like it. I like it a hell of a lot.”
Every word that comes out of his mouth has my pulse jumping faster.
“If I go with you to the library this morning, will you be satisfied?”
I want to bite back the words as soon as they leave my lips, but it’s too late. Ethan offers me a wicked smile and shakes his head.
“I can’t make any promises, Jett.”
“You’re determined for us to be friends, is that it? Or is it that no one ever says no to you. Is that what this is all about? You’re spoiled and used to having your way.”
Ethan cocks his head and drops his hands. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a toothpick, shoving it into his mouth. Nervous habit? Is that where the scent of cinnamon comes from?
“I’m not spoiled, but yes, I usually get what I want.”
I don’t miss the edge in his voice and the way his dark eyes never leave mine.
“And I want us to be friends, I guess.”
“You guess?” I scoff. “What does that mean? Either you do or you don’t.”
