Before I Die Page 11

  “What the fuck are you wearing?”

  She looks down at her bikini—if you can even call it that—then looks up at me, frowning. “You said I could borrow one. Did I misunderstand?”

  Holy shit! When I told her there were bathing suits in the guest bathroom, I didn’t even think about how skimpy they were or how they would look on her for that matter.

  Now, her standing there, in a white and blue patterned string bikini, with her cleavage spilling out of her top, and her flat stomach on display, I’m regretting ever suggesting she borrow one. If I have any chance at resisting this woman, she needs to be in more clothes, not less.

  “No, I did say that. I just didn’t know the selection included something like that.” My hand flies up, pointing at the offending material, and the plates of food almost topple over. She closes the distance between us, grabbing the can of soda that didn’t explode and a plate of food, and sets them on the table.

  “I can put a shirt on if it’s bothering you. I saw the suit and thought it was cute. I’ve only ever bought one-pieces. Since it’s surprisingly warm outside today, I’ve been enjoying getting a tan.” She smiles and her face lights up.

  “And drinking whiskey,” I add, nodding toward the glass.

  Her cheeks turn pink. “I hope you don’t mind. My mother always says whiskey is for corrupt businessmen, so I thought what better way to stick it to her than to drink a glass of whiskey.” She shrugs, lifting the glass and taking a sip, having no clue how expensive that one sip is. Her nose scrunches up, and she shivers as she swallows the mouthful.

  “It’s stronger than I expected,” she says, setting the glass back on the table. “So, should I, uh, change?” She glances back down at her tiny fucking bikini.

  “You’re fine. The bikini looks great on you. Let’s eat.” I sit on the lounger, placing my food on my lap, and she does the same. For a few minutes we eat in silence, my mind going to the last time I sat here with a woman.

  Twelve years ago

  “Ethan? You out here?” Kelsi yells, sounding nervous.

  “Yeah.”

  I hear her bare feet slap against the concrete and then she’s in my lap, her legs straddling me. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  I run my hands up and down her thighs. I can’t get enough of this woman. Her scent, her smile, the way she feels when her body is wrapped around mine. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I ask, kissing her mouth.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  My heart stops. We’re only eighteen. Sure, we’ve been dating for the last four years, but we’re still young, too young. However, one look at how nervous she is, and I know I need to keep my reservations to myself. Kelsi needs me to be strong for her. We knew by having unprotected sex we were risking pregnancy. We played a game of Russian roulette and lost. Now it’s time to pay up.

  “Let’s get married,” I blurt out.

  “Really?” Her nervousness turns into excitement.

  “Yeah. We would’ve gotten married eventually anyway, right? Let’s bring this little guy or girl into the world as a family.”

  “Okay! Let’s do it.”

  Nevaeh

  “Ethan? Are you okay?”

  He looks over at me and nods. “I haven’t sat out here in years.” He sounds distant, and even though he’s sitting right next to me, it’s as if he’s a thousand miles away.

  “Why not?”

  It’s beautiful out here. Whoever designed this area knew what they were doing. It’s an outdoor oasis. A huge bright blue pool with a built-in hot tub. The gorgeous sandstone deck surrounds the water with comfortable lounge chairs and umbrellas spread out. There’s an outdoor patio with a grill and bar. I could see myself lounging out here with a glass of wine in one hand and a book in another… Oh wait! That is what I did all day—except I sipped a glass of whiskey instead of wine—and it felt great. To be able to wear what I want, drink what I want, and read whatever the heck I want, without feeling ashamed or being judged. Today was one of the most relaxing days I’ve had in a while. You know, aside from the lingering issue of Ethan’s friend wanting to sell me, and the fact my parents still don’t know Stephen has been killed.

  My heart tightens at the thought. I keep trying to push my grief aside, knowing it won’t do any good. Crying won’t bring my brother back. And I know the last thing he would want is for me to cry and mourn his death. But I can’t help it. He’s only been gone for a few days. The wound is still gaping open, and I’m not sure when, if ever, it will be healed. He was my best friend, my only brother, and now he’s gone.

  “The simple answer…life gets away from you,” Ethan says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  I stare down at my sandwich. I’ve been trying to eat around the green and red peppers to not seem like I’m picky, but I can’t take it anymore. I take the top bun off and remove the peppers, which are covered in mayonnaise, and place them on my plate.

  Ethan stares at me. “Sorry, I didn’t know what you liked.”

  I shake my head. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m ungrateful. He didn’t have to bring me food, but he did anyway.

  “It’s okay. All of this is great. I just don’t like peppers,” I say, taking a bite of my now-perfect sub.

  Ethan nods with a half-smile that causes butterflies to make an unwanted appearance in my belly. “Noted. No peppers in the future. Anything else I should know?”

  I’m momentarily taken aback by his question. Is he actually trying to get to know me?

  Instead of overthinking his motives, I just go with it. “I could eat Chinese food every day.”

  I reach for the Coke, pop the top open, and take a long sip, enjoying the cool, refreshing liquid. I didn’t realize how thirsty the sun has made me.

  I glance over at Ethan, who’s watching me. “What? Did I spill something?” I look down, brushing my chest to see if I spilled any crumbs or soda on me.

  “No, now will you quit rubbing on yourself?” he growls.

  “Sorry,” I say, confused, setting my drink down.

  “What do you order when you get Chinese?” he asks, switching from cold to hot like he’s freaking bipolar.

  I break off a piece of the bread and pop it into my mouth. Ethan continues to watch me the entire time, but I don’t ask him why. He’d probably just bite my head off again.

  “I usually get the sesame chicken and the pork fried rice, but I pick the carrots out because they’re gross.” I scrunch my nose up in disgust. “When I was a kid, my brother and I were required to stay at the table until our plates were cleared. When my mom would make carrots, Stephen would sneak them off my plate and eat them for me.” I find myself smiling at the memory and then get choked up at the thought we’ll never have the chance to create any new memories.

  “So, no peppers or carrots, and an endless supply of Chinese will make you happy.”

  “And you can’t forget the root beer.” I point to my drink. “Coke is okay, but root beer is better.”

  “I have a feeling that anything that has to do with you will be hard to forget.”

  Unsure of how to answer that, I reach for the Coke to take a sip, but Ethan reaches for it at the same time, and for a second our fingers touch, and the same electricity I felt the night at the club when we kissed, flows through my veins.

  “Are you going to share?” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth. “It was your fault I dropped mine.”

  “How was that my fault?” I ask through nervous laughter.

  “Because you’re a huge fucking distraction.”

  He looks me up and down to emphasize his point, and those butterflies that have taken up residence in my belly, take off, scattering all over my chest and making it hard to breathe. In the short time I’ve been around Ethan, I’ve learned he dominates the air around him. His presence is alluring and entrancing.

  He’s also a man of many contradictions—strong and masculine and confident on the outside, yet sometimes, when his eyes meet mine, th
ey flash glimpses of emotion he keeps hidden—loneliness, insecurity, sorrow. There’s this darkness that surrounds him, a coldness that clings to him. He’s what my mother would call a sin. One that up until recently I would’ve avoided. But now… now, all I want to do is pull him toward the light and warm him up.

  Ethan arches one perfect brow, waiting for a response from me, a response I’m not ready to give. Because if I open my mouth, I might just give him all of me, served right up on a platter.

  “Angel,” he breathes, the nickname he’s dubbed me with coming out like a prayer, which confuses the heck out of me since I know this man doesn’t pray.

  He reaches out and softly brushes his fingertips across my cheek, moving toward my mouth. Delicately, his thumb strokes my bottom lip. “Your lip looks a lot better.”

  I close my eyes, reveling in his touch, as his thumb continues its path over my top lip. It’s so soft and gentle, it throws me off. It also supports my earlier thoughts—Ethan is a paradox.

  His cell phone rings, but he ignores it. I open my eyes and realize he’s smiling at me, wanting me to say something. Only I have no clue what to think, what to say. My emotions are all over the place. My hormones are raging. I’m turned on, confused, sad, and scared, and I have no idea which emotion to focus on.

  His phone rings again.

  “Are you going to answer that?” I ask, licking my dry lips.

  Ethan shakes his head, moving his warm hand to my cheek. It brings me comfort like a thick down blanket you wrap yourself in on a cold winter night.

  “No,” he murmurs, locking eyes with mine.

  After several long seconds, he drops his gaze, along with his hand, and it takes everything in me not to beg him to put his hand back on me. Maybe he’s not ice cold after all…

  He leans closer, and I hold my breath, thinking—and hoping—he’s going to kiss me. But instead he takes the glass from the table and downs the last bit of whiskey in it. Then he grabs his phone out of his pocket, glances at the screen, and swipes to ignore it. Standing, he takes our plates and heads back into the house.

  The door closes behind him, and I let out a shaky, disappointed sigh. While he’s gone, I allow my mind to wonder about what it would feel like to be kissed by him again, only this time, with nobody around, we wouldn’t have to stop at just a kiss…

  For a split second, I berate myself for my sinful thoughts, but then I remember I can do and think whatever I want. I’m determined to live my life differently, which means pushing the boundaries I’ve given myself—the boundaries my mom and God have given me.

  “Promise me you’ll find your own life and live it to the fullest… Live hard and love harder.”

  I promise, Stephen.

  I’m getting ready to head inside, when I hear the door open and close. I twist around and see Ethan heading toward me. He’s changed into a pair of black swim shorts, and just like the pajama pants he wore last night, they teasingly hang off his hips, showcasing his fit body.

  I stand and lick my lips nervously. His gaze is heated as his intense brown eyes travel down the entire length of my body, rendering me speechless as usual.

  As he saunters over, my body betrays me, and I become a puddle of goo under his attention. His dark presence surrounds me, suffocating the air from my lungs.

  The man who’s been consuming every forbidden thought I’ve had for the last several days stops in front of me. I take in his hard, muscular chest, toned abs, and sun-kissed skin, and force myself to take a small step back as I try and fail to find my composure.

  Get a grip, I think to myself. Living your life to the fullest does not include this man. Focus on your list.

  “Hmm,” Ethan mutters, taking another step forward, and then another, until we’re less than an inch apart. My brain is telling me to run, but my body is keeping me frozen in place. The scent of his cologne awakens my senses, clean and masculine and fresh, and then his cool breath hits my ear when he leans down and murmurs, “Let’s go for a swim.” A chill races through my body, making me visibly shiver.

  Without waiting for a response, he walks past me, toward the pool.

  I twirl around in time to see him step up to the edge and then dive in gracefully. A few seconds later, he surfaces and gives his head a shake. Droplets of water fly around him, and I imagine licking them off his body to quench my thirst.

  “Are you going to make me swim alone?” He shoots me, what Blaire would call, a panty-dropping wink.

  I give him a soft smile. “Yes, I am. I dipped my feet in there earlier and it’s too cold for me.” Lie.

  “Liar,” he says with a knowing smirk. “It’s warm.”

  “I just ate. I was taught not to swim after you eat.”

  “Thought you weren’t doing what your mother says anymore.”

  Damn him! He’s got me there.

  “Whatever.”

  “Don’t make me beg,” he says with an adorably sexy pout. “Get in here.”

  I’m pretty sure Ethan has never had to beg for anything in his life, and the thought of him begging me for a simple act such as me getting into the pool with him has my heart racing.

  “No,” I deadpan.

  “Did you just tell me no?” he asks, as if he can’t believe I uttered that simple two-letter word to him.

  “I did.”

  He grins from ear to ear, making me crack a smile.

  “I’m not a huge fan of that word.”

  I shrug. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  His smile turns cocky. “Fair enough.”

  His muscles flex as he pulls himself out of the pool, and my mind goes back to the night in the club when he used those same muscles to lift me onto the bar…

  Ethan grabs my hand, the coldness from the water touching my palm, and leads me over to the hot tub. He gets in first and turns toward me, still holding on to my hand as he helps me step into the hot, bubbly water. The entire reason I didn’t want to get in the pool was so I wouldn’t be so close to him, and now I’m about to be even closer.

  “No swimming in here,” he points out before I can think of a reason not to go in.

  He lets go of my hand and finds a seat, and I push away the thought once again of how badly I want his body touching mine.

  With him sitting on one side, I make it a point to sit on the other. His shoulders shake with silent laughter, but he doesn’t call me out on it. Instead, with his arms spread out on either side of him, he leans his head back against the hard surface and closes his eyes. With nowhere else to look, I use this moment to admire his features. His chiseled jaw is covered with thick stubble, his strong nose is slightly crooked, as if he’d broken it once and it didn’t heal properly. With his eyes closed, his thick lashes rest on his cheekbones. I wonder how a man, who is so dangerous, can be so gorgeous. Shouldn’t he look more evil? Then I think about what I’ve learned over the years about temptation and laugh softly to myself. He’s like the devil in disguise—a spider ensnaring his prey—he’ll lure you in with his good looks, and before you know it, you’re trapped in his web.

  A web I wouldn’t mind being tangled up in…

  “You’re staring.” It’s not a question. I’ve been caught. This is usually when I would shy away out of embarrassment, but I don’t. How am I ever going to start living if I’m always embarrassed or nervous or unsure of myself? I’m stuck in this beautiful house with this gorgeous man. Maybe instead of him luring me in, I should do the luring…Why does he get to be the spider and I the prey?

  “You’re kind of… pretty,” I admit, shocking myself.

  Ethan sits up and glares my way. “Just what every man wants to hear,” he says dryly, but I can see the laughter in his eyes.

  “Okay, fine.” I huff dramatically. “You’re ruggedly handsome. Is that better? Make you feel more manly?”

  “Yes.” He nods matter-of-factly.

  I roll my eyes and tilt my head back, just like he did before, enjoying the jets hitting my back.

 
“Tell me about the other night,” Ethan says after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

  “With Logan?” I ask, confused that he would ask when he already knows what happened.

  “No, I don’t want to talk about that fucker. I want to talk about the night you kissed me.”

  I open my eyes and give him my attention. “My birthday night? What do you want to know?”

  “Shit. It was your birthday that night?”

  I give him a tiny nod.

  “Well fuck, now I feel like a shitty boyfriend. I didn’t get you flowers or anything.”

  I giggle at our inside joke. “You gave me more than you know.” I lick the beads of perspiration that are forming above my lip from the heat of the water, ignoring the way Ethan has zeroed in on my mouth. “I wasn’t expecting to run into Gerald that night—”

  “Who is a fucking asshole.”

  “He and his new fiancée approached me, totally throwing me for a loop. Gerald asked if I was seeing anyone, and to save myself from humiliation, I lied and pointed at the bar, which happened to be where you were sitting.”

  “Lucky me.” Ethan grins.

  “And well… you know the rest of the story.”

  “The rest of the story, meaning the part where you attacked me?” Ethan laughs.

  I didn’t think about it like that, but he’s right. I attacked him. I kissed him without his permission. Sure, he didn’t push me away, but I still initiated it without asking him.

  “I’m sorry I put you in that situation and used you the way I did. I never got to thank you for helping me.”

  Ethan looks at me like I’m a puzzle that needs to be solved.

  “You never have to thank me for kissing you.”

  My eyes dart to his mouth and I once again imagine us kissing, right here in this hot tub… Me on his lap…

  “Have you ever done something like that before?” he asks. “Kissed a stranger?”

  “You were my first.”

  Ethan nods slowly. “Let’s go inside. It’s getting cold out here.” He stands and gets out of the hot tub. Once he’s out, he reaches down for my hand, which I give him without protest—making me realize how comfortable I’ve come to feel around Ethan in such a short amount of time.