Page 14 of Play to Win
She sighed because the very last thing she wanted was another apology from him. After his admission that he wasn’t part of the plot that long-ago night, she’d forced herself not to think about it or him anymore. “You don’t owe me an apology, Ethan. Not another one at least.”
Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Ethan stepped forward and she forced herself not to move. It was silly, she instructed people on how to be intimate, how to have orgasms and more, she could certainly stand in front of this man without giving in to teenage panic or adult arousal—whichever one was trying to take over at the moment.
He lifted two fingers to touch her lips lightly. “My friends were wrong. All of us, as kids, were wrong for the things that were said about you and the way you were treated. I can’t take that memory or the pain away from you, but I’d like to say that I’m sorry for any part that I may have inadvertently played in the abuse.”
Ethan had never called her a name, not that she’d heard. And he was never mean to her, which was a big part of the reason why she’d fallen so fast and hard in love with him. But that was then. She had to live in the now.
“I’m fine, Ethan,” she said and moved to the screen door. “No need for any more apologies. And thanks for the offer of help. I appreciate it. But I really need to go.”
This time, she grabbed the side of the screen door to open it and was ready to step inside when she turned back to see Ethan still standing on the porch. For a moment she thought he looked confused, but that thought was squashed as he put a hand on the door above hers. He pulled the door open further so that it slipped out of her hand. She didn’t move but tilted her head a little so she could hold his gaze.
“That’s all I came here for tonight, Portia. I’m not looking for another kiss.” But his lips certainly were kissable, and the earthy scent of his cologne was tickling her senses easing her from annoyance to arousal in seconds.
“Neither am I.” She lied.
“But you will,” he told her.
His gaze dropped to her mouth before slowly easing back up to her eyes.
“You’ll ask and I’ll oblige because I know you feel what’s brewing between us.”
Portia disagreed, or at least she planned to deny for as long as possible. “There’s nothing happen—” she started to say.
He smirked, a gorgeous lifting of both sides of his mouth and quirking of his brows.
“Right,” he said condescendingly. “There’s nothing happening…tonight.”
Her response was a smirk of her own because bravado was something she’d mastered long ago. Another thing she was exceptionally good at was pleasuring herself. He was trying to put the ball in her court, make it seem like she was going to ask him for more. Well, he had no idea. She didn’t need Ethan to assuage the arousal he’d stoked in her. She wondered if he could say the same.
“You go on inside and take care of those “things” you need to do. I’ll head home now, but I’m sure we’ll be bumping into each other again soon.”
She sincerely hoped not. Because while Ethan talked about something brewing between them, Portia desperately needed to push that thought from her mind. While events beyond her control had landed her in the arena of teaching other people how to be intimate and that career had ultimately made her a millionaire, learning how to let go of her own doubts and insecurities was something she’d never been able to overcome.
“Goodnight, Ethan,” she whispered.
“Goodnight, Portia,” he replied and waited until she’d stepped into the house and closed the door.
Once it was locked behind her, Portia raced up the stairs and closed herself in her old bedroom. She dropped the bag on the floor and immediately flipped open her suitcase to find her personal vibrator. Bringing herself to release was nothing new, and now that she had a visual and the memory of Ethan’s lips and hands on her, she would hopefully be able to find a deeper level of pleasure on her own. If she couldn’t have the real thing, she could at least have this.
* * *
Ethan sat in his truck and stared down at the book he was now holding.
The Principles of Pleasureby Portia Merin
It had fallen under the rocker on the porch when she’d dropped her things. While she’d hurried to pick up each piece of paper and book, she’d forgotten this one. And now Ethan had it.
He rubbed his fingers over the soft matte cover. It was black and white with the silhouette of a seemingly naked couple, legs and arms entwined, the title written in white script letters and her name in bold red print. That night at the resort she’d said she was promoting her book, but Ethan had been too intent on staring at her mouth to pay much attention. Camy said she was an intimacy instructor. Portia was an author and a sex coach. And he was an idiot. Five years with the Secret Service and he was being less than diligent about finding out who the woman who’d been lingering in his mind the last few days really was. A woman whom he should be steering clear of if he knew what was good for him.
As far as he’d known, Portia hadn’t been into sex when they were teenagers, she hadn’t even had a boyfriend. The woman he’d seen at that hotel definitely knew how to please a man, but when he’d looked into her eyes, when he’d held her in his arms there’d been something else there, something that had nothing to do with pleasure. It was a bit of uncertainty and reservation. He’d thought it was fear initially, but after seeing her again today, he was convinced Portia wasn’t afraid of anything. So how did this sex expert, a renowned kinky sex goddess according to the quotes on the back cover of the book, still manage to tremble at his touch? Practice? Faking it?Who the hell was the real Portia Merin?
When he realized he was still sitting in front of her house, Ethan started the engine and pulled away. He’d tossed the book onto the passenger seat but couldn’t help glancing at it every time he stopped at a red light. He also couldn’t avoid thinking about what it might say.
Pulling into the parking lot beside The Lofts, he put his truck in park and again stared at that book. His phone vibrated from his pocket and he pulled it out to stare at the screen.
Meeting tomorrow morning at eight.
Del loved meetings. He took his job as manager of the bar very seriously and thus treated it like a course in college instead of the fun business venture they’d proposed. They were hosting a fraternity party on Friday night, which is probably what the meeting was about. Ethan would have to make sure the staff was well versed in the underage drinking laws in Providence. City council members had squawked about them agreeing to host a frat party at a bar, but Ethan and the guys figured it made more sense to let the group of young men into the bar to have their get together—where the staff could strictly monitor any underage drinking—than to let them have the party at the frat house where liquor could be brought in easily without any supervision. Each of the guys remembered well what it was like to be young with the urge to do any and everything adults told them not to do.
