in the same motion. In the next, he swept
an arm around so he could brace her jaw, forcing her face up. “And
something tells me you have, too.”
He emphasized his meaning by brushing
her tears with the tips of his fingers. Like his voice, the sweeps
were soft but ambitious…emotional ninjas. She had to fight back.
She had no choice, despite the sorrow that still welled and the
tears that still came.
“It was worth the wait,” she finally
murmured. She tried lightening the air with another laugh but gave
up when his face didn’t change by one solemn inch. “It was amazing,
Ethan. But you—you’re—and this—”
“Is pretty fucking awesome.” Despite
the earnest words, his features steeled. “You going to squirm away
from that one too, sunshine? Go ahead. I’ve got the juice to go a
hundred rounds with you on why I’m right.” His mouth quirked in
humorless triumph. “But something tells me you’d be lucky to last
three.”
“Something tells me that’s pretty
accurate.” She gazed up at him, smiling softly with the confession.
“Fucking awesome is a pretty good way of putting it. I don’t think
I’ll look at that couch the same way again.”
“You make that sound like a bad
thing.”
“I’m making it sound like
a real thing,” she
clarified. “Ethan, look—”
He shifted his thumbs to
lock on top of her mouth. “You want to know about real?” he
growled. “Fine.” For the first time, he dipped his gaze—making her
know, with better-than-high-def clarity, that she was really in
trouble now. “ Real is what I felt, for the first time in a long time, the moment
you smiled at me from Sage and Garrett’s living room floor. Real was the way my
spirit got zapped when my lips met yours in the forest the next
day. Real was the
thing my life missed for seven fucking months, before I saw you
again on the soundstage today. Real is this, Ava. It’s rare. A treasure that’s been
given to us. We should—”
“Whoa.” She finally jerked
from his hold. “Okay, stop. Just stop.” Stop before I break every promise I’ve made to myself over
the last three years and let you shred my soul into pulp for your
nobility smoothie. “A ‘treasure?’ Don’t you
mean your treasure? The kill you chased and finally shot
down?”
It was brutal. She knew it. Ethan’s
face reflected it. His lips twisted as if he were nauseated. “Is
that what you think? That you were some kind of conquest for
me?”
She didn’t say anything.
His jaw went the texture of steel. Ava
bunched her hands into fists in order to control herself from
negating him, from running back into his arms and blubbering that
of course that wasn’t what she thought. That in the first second of
his hold on her in the prop room, she’d felt the agony of every
moment he’d waited to see her again, and the torture of plodding
through life without knowing he ever would.
Treasure. He had to have found the
perfect word for it, hadn’t he?
But sometimes treasure was cursed.
Especially if the wrong person found it. Especially if they weren’t
the one meant to have it. The treasure always knew that part,
didn’t it? And then it turned to dust.
With a heavy gulp, she pivoted and
picked up her bra.
“I have to get back to work.” She
deliberately picked panties and slacks next. That made it easier to
keep her gaze down, away from where he’d be able to see it. To
probe her in that way where he could read her thoughts in 3D. Her
thoughts weren’t his business now. And her heart sure as hell
wasn’t his “treasure.”
He finally moved. The very air seemed
to shift around him as he did, like afterburn of his ire. With two
violent sweeps, he scooped his own stuff off the floor but made no
move to get redressed. “Fine,” he spat, “but this is far from over,
Ava.”
She didn’t give him a response. Oh,
she had one, but the chasm between thinking it and saying it was
unbridgeable—and painful. As she jammed her top back over her
an arm around so he could brace her jaw, forcing her face up. “And
something tells me you have, too.”
He emphasized his meaning by brushing
her tears with the tips of his fingers. Like his voice, the sweeps
were soft but ambitious…emotional ninjas. She had to fight back.
She had no choice, despite the sorrow that still welled and the
tears that still came.
“It was worth the wait,” she finally
murmured. She tried lightening the air with another laugh but gave
up when his face didn’t change by one solemn inch. “It was amazing,
Ethan. But you—you’re—and this—”
“Is pretty fucking awesome.” Despite
the earnest words, his features steeled. “You going to squirm away
from that one too, sunshine? Go ahead. I’ve got the juice to go a
hundred rounds with you on why I’m right.” His mouth quirked in
humorless triumph. “But something tells me you’d be lucky to last
three.”
“Something tells me that’s pretty
accurate.” She gazed up at him, smiling softly with the confession.
“Fucking awesome is a pretty good way of putting it. I don’t think
I’ll look at that couch the same way again.”
“You make that sound like a bad
thing.”
“I’m making it sound like
a real thing,” she
clarified. “Ethan, look—”
He shifted his thumbs to
lock on top of her mouth. “You want to know about real?” he
growled. “Fine.” For the first time, he dipped his gaze—making her
know, with better-than-high-def clarity, that she was really in
trouble now. “ Real is what I felt, for the first time in a long time, the moment
you smiled at me from Sage and Garrett’s living room floor. Real was the way my
spirit got zapped when my lips met yours in the forest the next
day. Real was the
thing my life missed for seven fucking months, before I saw you
again on the soundstage today. Real is this, Ava. It’s rare. A treasure that’s been
given to us. We should—”
“Whoa.” She finally jerked
from his hold. “Okay, stop. Just stop.” Stop before I break every promise I’ve made to myself over
the last three years and let you shred my soul into pulp for your
nobility smoothie. “A ‘treasure?’ Don’t you
mean your treasure? The kill you chased and finally shot
down?”
It was brutal. She knew it. Ethan’s
face reflected it. His lips twisted as if he were nauseated. “Is
that what you think? That you were some kind of conquest for
me?”
She didn’t say anything.
His jaw went the texture of steel. Ava
bunched her hands into fists in order to control herself from
negating him, from running back into his arms and blubbering that
of course that wasn’t what she thought. That in the first second of
his hold on her in the prop room, she’d felt the agony of every
moment he’d waited to see her again, and the torture of plodding
through life without knowing he ever would.
Treasure. He had to have found the
perfect word for it, hadn’t he?
But sometimes treasure was cursed.
Especially if the wrong person found it. Especially if they weren’t
the one meant to have it. The treasure always knew that part,
didn’t it? And then it turned to dust.
With a heavy gulp, she pivoted and
picked up her bra.
“I have to get back to work.” She
deliberately picked panties and slacks next. That made it easier to
keep her gaze down, away from where he’d be able to see it. To
probe her in that way where he could read her thoughts in 3D. Her
thoughts weren’t his business now. And her heart sure as hell
wasn’t his “treasure.”
He finally moved. The very air seemed
to shift around him as he did, like afterburn of his ire. With two
violent sweeps, he scooped his own stuff off the floor but made no
move to get redressed. “Fine,” he spat, “but this is far from over,
Ava.”
She didn’t give him a response. Oh,
she had one, but the chasm between thinking it and saying it was
unbridgeable—and painful. As she jammed her top back over her
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