Ethan is mad at me? What if he's upset with me because he thinks it's my fault?
I can't deny it is. I'm the one who decided to go to his room and accept a drink from him in spite of knowing the risks. I'm the one who couldn't say no when he asked if I wanted him to kiss me and again when he asked if we should have sex.
Is that why he can't stand to look at me now? Has he lost all faith in me? Am I going to get fired?
I want to ask him outright, but fear gets the better of me.
"I think the meeting went well," I say instead. Best to start with small talk. "Mr. Odermatt seemed pleased."
"I think so, too," Ethan answers.
Inwardly, I let out a sigh of relief. He spoke to me. That means he's not mad at me, right? I'm just overthinking things.
"Just as I thought, you and your brothers make a good team," I go on. "And they're both very nice, too. I mean, I never thought they weren't, but I've never actually spent much time with them or talked to them before. I didn't know Mr. Asher was an avid reader. He - "
I stop because Ethan glances over his shoulder. No, not glances. Glares.
Shit. Have I been talking too much? Is he mad at me after all?
Just then, the elevator doors open. Ethan steps out. I follow him down the hall.
"Where are the files?" he asks.
"In my tablet."
I take it out of my purse and try to turn it on but frown when I realize the battery is dead.
"Shit."
"What's wrong?" Ethan asks.
"I need to get my charger."
He says nothing. As I open the door to my room with my keycard, I feel his eyes on me. Is he glaring again?
I can no longer stand it so I turn around and face him.
"Ethan, I'm so - "
I don't finish my apology because his mouth swallows the rest of my words. He closes the door behind him then pins me against it. My purse drops to the floor.
His lips crush mine and I can't breathe. His tongue enters my mouth and pins mine down.
Heat rushes down my spine. My thoughts start to blur. Somewhere amid the chaos in my head, an alarm goes off, telling me that I'm about to make another mistake, that I should stop right now. I know I should. But my body won't listen. My heart is already racing, leaping, ecstatic that Ethan doesn't want to get rid of me, that on the contrary, he can't get enough of me. My skin is tingling all over in excitement, already remembering all of Ethan's touches and anticipating more. My hands find Ethan's chest. I can feel the firm muscles through the layers of clothes he's wearing and heat stirs in my palms. My tongue pushes his back. I suck on its tip before my lips press hungrily against his.
The more our lips touch and our tongues mingle, the more my head spins and my hesitation vanishes. The facts that I can smell Ethan's cologne mingled with the scent of his sweat and that I can still picture him looking so cool and in control in his suit in that conference room earlier help, and so does the glass of wine I had at dinner. The alarm in my head turns into a distant siren - going, going, gone. Every coherent thought follows. Nothing makes sense. I don't care.
Ethan tugs my lower lip. Then he drags the tip of his tongue along it, making it tingle even more. When I try to suck on his tongue again, he pushes it in. It rubs against the roof of my mouth and I tremble. The last of my defenses melts away as desire awakens in my veins. My body takes over.
I unbutton Ethan's jacket and slip it off his shoulders. He shrugs it off. His fingers slip between the strands of my hair and they start to unravel. He finds the pins keeping my bun in place. He takes them off and my hair tumbles down past my shoulders. He works on the hook behind my dress next. He struggles so he turns me around.
"How do you get this fucking thing off?" he growls impatiently.
"Let me," I offer, afraid that he might break it and ruin the dress. I bought it especially for this trip. It was on sale but still expensive.
I try to remove the hook. I own a lot