Before I Die Page 9

  I shrug nonchalantly, trying to act like I don’t care, and he chuckles and shakes his head, pulling me along.

  When I finally look up, away from the car, I gasp out loud, my eyes widening in amazement. I pictured him taking me to some rundown warehouse or a dungeon of some sort, but as I take in my surroundings, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  As we walk up the long, circular driveway that’s lined with lush green grass and evergreen shrubs, I inhale the salty scent of the ocean. To my left, in the center of the driveway, is a gorgeous fountain that looks to be made of glazed ceramic tiles with roses and magnolias surrounding it, giving it an enchanting feel. I glance back and see the main gate is huge and made of wrought iron. The entire scene in front of me is picturesque, the true definition of tranquility, which seems to be the opposite of everything Ethan stands for.

  Still holding hands, we walk up to the house—if you can even call it that… It’s more like a mansion. Large white pillars surround what looks like a wraparound porch that leads to the front entrance. To the left is a porch swing, and to the right is a table and chairs. In the center of the porch, there’s a thick set of ebony-colored wooden doors that look more expensive than everything I own. I take a step forward with Ethan, mesmerized by the sight before me.

  He lets go of my hand and reaches into his pocket for his keys, and with a quick twist of his wrist, he unlocks the door, opening it wide and motioning for me to enter first. I take a step toward the open door, my heart beating hard and fast against my ribcage. Am I going to enter this house and never come back out? The feeling of not knowing what is in store for me is now consuming my every thought. I am finally ready to live my life and I might not even get a chance.

  The thought once again reminds me of Stephen.

  And my heart squeezes in my chest.

  He’s gone.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. Please get inside,” Ethan says, his voice devoid of all emotion.

  Having no choice but to believe what he says, I step into the foyer and see an elegant white spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. A patterned maroon rug ascends the stairs, giving it a homey feel.

  To my left is a huge dining room with a table that could easily seat twelve people.

  “Your home is beautiful,” I say. “You must have a big family.”

  Ethan scoffs at my compliment as he closes the front door. “Do I look like a family man to you?”

  “Um, I’m not sure,” I say, considering his question. “Maybe… I mean you were nice at the club when you were my pretend boyfriend in front of my ex, but then you were kind of scary at your friend’s house earlier. I’m not sure if a family man would nearly choke a woman who just lost her brother and was on the verge of being sold into…”

  When Ethan’s brows shoot up to his forehead in what looks like shock mixed with disbelief, I close my mouth mid-sentence.

  “You meant that as a rhetorical question, didn’t you?” Insert foot into mouth.

  Ethan doesn’t answer. “Let’s go. It’s getting late and I’m tired.”

  He walks up the staircase, and I follow behind. The hallway is wide and filled with several doors. When he gets halfway down it, he opens a door and walks inside.

  “Is this your room?”

  “Yes.”

  My breath hitches. I’ve shared a room with a man once before. Gerald. This feels different, though. It’s suffocating to be in the same room as Ethan, and in the back of my mind, I know why.

  The sparks.

  I never felt them with Gerald. With Ethan, before all this went down, I felt something I’ve never felt before. For the first time, I’m sexually attracted to a man, and of course it’s to a dangerous guy like Ethan.

  I take a moment to check out the room. The walls are a soft cream color with a light blue border running the length of the room. There’s a king-sized antique-looking bed in the middle, and a nightstand on both sides with a wooden bench in front of the bed. Without asking for permission, I walk closer and press my hand to the soft cushion of the bench. I notice a chest against the wall and turn to see a sitting area with two couches and a coffee table, complete with a fireplace. I imagine myself sitting in front of it with a book and a cup of coffee.

  Across the entire west wall spans huge picturesque windows, giving me a view of the Atlantic Ocean. Ethan shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the bed. I watch in wonder as he takes the gun out of his holster and places it on the nightstand.

  “What about my job?”

  Ethan turns to me. “What about it?”

  “I can’t just not show up.” Sure, I was planning to put in my two weeks, but I would never just leave my place of employment high and dry.

  “Where do you work?”

  “I’m an elementary school teacher at St. Juliana’s, and I run the youth program.”

  Ethan stares at me for a moment, curiously, his eyes raking down my body, making me feel as though I’m on display.

  “The last time I checked, I’m not forcing you to be here. However, if you wish to one day go back to your life, you’ll listen to me and stay put until I can figure out what to do with you.” He walks over to the dresser and pulls out a white shirt and a pair of black boxers.

  What to do with me? I’m a problem. Nothing more than a difficulty. While I’m warring with myself over sharing a room with the man, he’s referring to me as a nuisance he needs to deal with. I guess I should be grateful he’s willing to deal with me instead of going along with Logan and selling me to the highest bidder.

  I say nothing, only giving him a small nod, when he turns around and walks over to me. “Here, you can wear these tonight and we’ll figure out your clothing situation tomorrow. Take a shower, a bath, I really don’t care. Get some rest.”

  That will never happen.

  “Where will you sleep?”

  Ethan’s lips curl into a half-smirk, probably fully aware of the dilemma that is racking my brain. “I thought we would share this bed.” He nods toward the bed.

  “Umm…” I splutter, and he laughs, a full-on belly laugh, and for a brief second he looks young and carefree and…beautiful.

  “Chill out, Angel. I was just joking. I’m going to sleep in the guest room next door.” He leans in close to me and pushes a stray hair behind my ear, then whispers, “Don’t worry… your virtue is safe with me.” And with a wink that fills my tummy with butterflies, Ethan turns around, grabs some more clothes from the drawer, and walks out, shutting the door behind him.

  Once he’s gone, I jump in the shower to rinse off. Grabbing the soap on the ledge, I squirt some into my palm, and his scent surrounds me. It’s masculine and rich, but not overbearing—fresh and clean. Great. Just what I need is to be trapped with this man’s scent all over me. I’m having a hard enough time dealing with my mixed emotions regarding him. There has to be something wrong with me. What woman in her right mind would be attracted to a man who has made it clear he’s not a good guy? Me, that’s who.

  Good job, Nevaeh! When you decide to live life, you really give it all you’ve got, don’t ya?

  There’s a creaking sound and I look through the glass to see Ethan entering the bathroom.

  “What are you doing?” I screech, quickly covering my body with my hands and arms the best I can. “Get out!”

  “Chill,” he says dryly. “I’m not here to play peeping tom. I’m leaving some bandages and cream on the sink for your wrists from the rope burn.”

  My heart swells at his words. He brought me cream and bandages? Who is this man? One minute he’s all sexy, kissing me like crazy in the club, and then the next, he’s mean and growly, threatening me. And now he’s being accommodating and sweet. He is such a contradiction.

  After I finish showering and applying the cream and bandages to my burns, I get dressed in the clothes Ethan gave me. Before lying down, out of habit, I drop to my knees by the side of the bed, ready to say my prayers. Only, for the first time, I stop myself.

>   Rising back onto my feet, I sit on the edge of the bed and think about everything. Before I learned of my mother’s betrayal, before I saw my brother’s dead body on the floor, before I learned how evil this world is, I would’ve prayed to God, thanking him for everything he’s provided. But with all my new knowledge, I have no desire to thank him for anything. To converse with him in any way. And that thought makes my heart hurt. I was taught, it’s during our hardest times, we should seek the comfort of God, but I just can’t do it. It feels like the church and God and my mother are all wrapped up into one suffocating package, and in order to breathe, in order to live, I need to break free from all of them. I need to put myself first and live my life for me. It’s what Stephen wanted. It was his last wish before he died, and I’m going to do my best to honor him.

  With the thought of Stephen on my mind, I lie down in bed and sink into the mattress. I pull the blankets up to my neck and allow myself to cry once more. I’m trying so hard to remain strong because I know it’s what he would’ve wanted. But every time I’m alone with my own thoughts, my heart breaks all over again. Every time I close my eyes, I see him lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

  After a couple hours of crying, until I’m completely stuffed up and can barely breathe, I get up and blow my nose. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since this morning before I went to see my mom at the church. I consider whether I should leave the room to go in search of food and decide to risk it. If Ethan wanted to hurt me, he would’ve done it already. For whatever reason, he saved me from that Logan guy, so I need to trust him. Because right now, I don’t have many people I can trust.

  I lift the covers, and my bare feet hit the soft, cream-colored carpeting. My initial thought is that I hope Ethan doesn’t get mad at me for snooping through his kitchen for something to eat, but my second thought is Oh well! He should’ve fed me, and I’m not going to be a prisoner here. None of this is my fault.

  Tiptoeing out of the room, I tug on Ethan’s white shirt, which reaches the middle of my thighs. His boxers are rolled up to where they don’t fall, but because of having to roll them up, they might as well be another pair of underwear. They’re probably the shortest shorts I’ve ever worn. Blaire would be proud. Speaking of Blaire… I need to ask Ethan if I can use his phone so I can call her and let her know I’m okay. I should also call my dad, so he doesn’t worry, and the church so they know I won’t be coming back to work.

  Holding on to the wooden banister, I walk down the spiral staircase, and when I get to the bottom, I’m able to look around freely. The walls are all a soft taupe and go up a good fifteen feet. There’s another fireplace, like the one in the bedroom, but this one is probably four times the size with a beautiful mantel running across it. I notice, though, there aren’t any photos anywhere. Tons of art, but no family pictures in frames. Nothing personal at all actually.

  I’m tempted to look around the rest of the house—I bet all the other rooms are just as gorgeous—but don’t want to be rude. I’ll have to ask Ethan to give me a tour in the morning. I picture his scowl when I ask him and giggle. He’s so darn broody, except for earlier when he laughed—and what a sexy laugh it was.

  As I walk past the dining room I saw earlier, I look up and see a big venetian-style chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It’s decorated with hundreds of teardrop crystals, creating a dazzling focal point in the room. It’s beautiful and elegant and I can’t fathom why Ethan would live in a home like this. He seems more like a top floor-penthouse-bachelor pad kind of guy.

  I’m still staring at chandelier, when I bump into a wall. No, not a wall… a hard, warm, body of muscle. Stiffening, I take a step back, and standing in front of me is a shirtless Ethan, wearing only a pair of black lounge pants that hang from his hips, revealing six-pack abs.

  Oh my goodness! His body is something straight out of a romance novel. My mouth falls open as I take him in, my gaze completely drawn to his perfect muscular body. Lean and hard. He’s sculpted, beautifully rugged, dark, and dangerously handsome. Trailing my gaze down his body, I spot a tattoo on his rib cage against his perfectly tanned skin.

  Never Forget.

  Hmm, I wonder what it is he never wants to forget.

  Ethan

  After working out in my dad’s gym, I grabbed a shower then came down to grab a drink before bed. I’m walking through the dining room, downing a bottle of water, when I see Nevaeh heading straight for me. Her head is tilted up toward the chandelier, looking sexy as fuck in my white T-shirt.

  Stopping in place, I take a second to appreciate the woman in front of me. She truly has no idea how gorgeous she is. Take right now for instance. She’s wearing my shirt sans bra. Her perky tits are pushing through it, exposing her pert, hardened nipples. The bottom of my shirt stops several inches above her knees, showing off her creamy thighs and legs. I saw it in the way she acted at the club. Nervous and insecure, not understanding that the woman on her ex’s arm was nowhere near as gorgeous as she is. Some women will play coy. Act like they don’t know how hot they are, when they really do know. But Nevaeh, she’s not playing coy. She’s too naïve. Too innocent. She really has no idea she is a walking, talking, breathing, fucking temptation. And fuck if that doesn’t make her that much sexier.

  Not realizing I’m standing here, checking her out, she walks straight into me. At first she looks shocked, but then she notices I’m shirtless and gets distracted, her wide eyes slowly roaming down my body like I’m a piece of art on display. This goes on for a good thirty seconds before I decide to fuck with her.

  “Like what you see?” I give her a knowing smirk, and her eyes widen, her face turning an adorable shade of pink. Jesus fuck. I need to get a grip. She’s not adorable. She’s a pain in my ass.

  She looks me over one more time then glances down at herself, probably wondering if she’s decent enough to be standing in front of me. This woman’s innocence is almost comical, and the way she fruitlessly tugs at my shirt, wishing it to grow, is priceless.

  Her doe eyes meet mine, and that’s when I notice under her eyes are puffy, and her cheeks are splotchy and pink.

  “You’ve been crying.”

  She sniffles and nods. “My brother and I were really close.”

  I nod back, unsure of what the hell to say in response to that.

  After we stand here for a good minute, neither of us saying a word, I break the silence. “Are you down here for a reason?”

  “I’m hungry,” she says, and I immediately regret not feeding her. I have no idea how long Logan’s had her, and I’d bet he didn’t bother to give her anything to eat. I have no clue what’s even here, but I’m sure there are cans of something she can eat, so she’s not hungry.

  Grabbing her hand, I guide her through the swinging door and into the kitchen, pointing for her to have a seat on the stool against the island. She sits, and my shirt rides up her thighs, causing my dick to swell in my pants.

  “Did my boxers not fit you?” I ask, annoyed because I’m completely in over my head with this woman. At this point, I don’t know which way is up.

  She nods then stands, lifting my white shirt to show me my boxers. Fucking hell.

  “They do. I just had to roll them up a few times. Thank you.”

  My eyes dart down, catching a glimpse of her flat stomach, and my dick twitches in appreciation. Oh, hell no. This is not happening. I need to get away from this woman. How could someone so godly be such a fucking sin? “There should be something in the pantry you can make. I’ll get some food tomorrow,” I growl out, mad at myself for not being able to control my thoughts—or my dick—around her.

  I need to get my shit together. This woman is off-limits, and even if she wasn’t, she isn’t my type. She’s the forever type of girl, the one you marry and have a dozen babies with, and I’m nothing more than a for-now type of guy. I did that forever bullshit once, and I learned my lesson the hard way.

  Growing up, my dad would always say a smar
t man learns from his mistakes, and I’d like to think I’m a smart man. Therefore, I won’t be making that mistake again.

  “I could make you something as well,” she offers as she walks around the island, my shirt lifting as her ass sways, a hint of my boxers peeking out. Fuck! I need to get out of here.

  “No,” I say way too damn loudly.

  She spins around, and the corners of her lips curve downward.

  “No,” I repeat, softer this time. “I’m good. I just worked out.”

  “Okay,” she says, opening the pantry door.

  Before I can change my mind, I stalk out of the kitchen. Once I’m upstairs in the guest room, I check some emails on my new phone, but I can’t concentrate. All I see is Nevaeh in my damn shirt and barely-there boxers.

  I drop my phone onto the nightstand and, throwing a pillow over my face, go to sleep.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I open my eyes and for a second assume I’m in my bedroom. The view out the window is similar. But as soon as I look around, I’m confused. The walls are a different color. The furniture is white instead of dark wood. Then I remember I’m at my dad’s beach house, in his guestroom.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  “Come in,” I yell, grabbing my phone to check the time: seven eighteen in the morning. What the hell is she doing up so early? I groan, nestling my face into my pillow.

  The door creeks open. “Ethan?”

  “It’s early, Nevaeh.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I was wondering if you figured anything out. If maybe I can go home today.”

  Rolling over, I see her standing in the doorway, still in my shirt and still without a damn bra. Her tits still fucking perky and her goddamn nipples still peeking through.

  “This has to be a test,” I say out loud to nobody.

  She scrunches up her nose in confusion. “A test?”

  “Never mind.” I shake my head then sit up, scrubbing my hands down my face, hoping when I look back at her, she’ll suddenly be more dressed.

  Of course she’s not.