Playing For Her Heart - Megan Erickson Page 0,38
could see were his blue eyes, his clenched jaw.
Her hips were moving on their own accord and her fingers were slipping through the wetness over her clit.
She was going to come. She was going to come with the phantom Grant on top of her, inside of her, whispering her name and demanding things of her she didn’t want to give.
The orgasm rocketed through her and when she opened her mouth, she didn’t praise Kahl for the excellent fucking. No, when she came it was with Grant’s name whispered on her lips.
And then she lay there, her fingers wet, her body exhausted, dread gnawing at her belly.
She was so much deeper into Grant that she had thought. He’d broken her with his skilled hands. His dirty words. The way he burned her with his blazing blue eyes.
You’ll never be what he needs, a voice in her head said.
She took a minute to gather her bearings, then got out of bed to start her day.
Half an hour later, while she was eating breakfast, there was a knock on her door. She stuck her finger in her mouth, catching the stray drop of syrup that she’d caught off her plate.
When she opened the door, Ethan stood there, hands in the pockets of his track pants, long-sleeved shirt stretched across his broad chest. “What’s going on?”
“Why aren’t you answering my calls?”
She feigned ignorance. “What do you mean? I texted you.”
Ethan stared at her, not buying it.
She sighed. “I was busy.”
Ethan stepped inside, forcing her to take a step back so he could come in. He shut the door behind him and looked around her place. “Working?”
Not really. “Yes.”
He frowned and then sniffed, his expression softening. “Pancakes?”
She rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen, listening to Ethan’s steps behind her. “Did you come over on the false pretense of worrying about me just to get some breakfast?”
He’d done that when she was on a Game of Thrones food kick. She’d bought a cookbook and made all kinds of treats from the books, like lemon cakes and Pentoshi duck. She even blogged about it, which Ethan said was the nerdiest thing she’d ever done.
Whatever. Sansa was right; those lemon cakes were delicious.
But she liked making Ethan happy, so she fed him pancakes and listened to him talk about work and afterward, they sat on the couch to watch morning news shows.
He’d done this when they were kids, hang out with her like this. She’d read him books and he’d laugh at her voices, while Samantha lay on the bed, tossing a ball in the air.
Chloe wanted to share that memory with Ethan. She wanted to talk to him about Samantha, but when she tried in the past, his entire body would stiffen. He’d retreat into his shell and that made Chloe’s heart hurt even worse. She hadn’t just lost Samantha that day. She’d lost Ethan, too, or at least the Ethan he’d been. The loving, affectionate brother. The one who smiled a lot and laughed. He had the best laugh.
And she’d also lost her family, that cohesive unit that had been her foundation.
She wished she could confess all of this to Ethan, but she didn’t want to add to the guilt he’d already placed on himself. Samantha would have been able to do it. If it were Chloe who died, Samantha would have kept the family together. She wouldn’t have let Ethan fall so deep within himself that he’d become a different person.
And she wouldn’t turn down Grant Osprey, the man of Chloe’s dreams. The thought of Grant’s smile, his laugh, his teasing humor and oh God, his hands, made her ache and burn all at the same time.
She fell asleep on the couch and woke up to the smell of something burning. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and peered over the couch. Ethan was frowning at the toaster oven, and it made her smile to see him crouch and peer inside.
She stood up, clutching the blanket around her shoulders, and walked into the kitchen.
Ethan looked up when he heard her footsteps, still frowning. “I tried to make you toast for lunch. I think it’s burnt.”
She looked into the toaster oven at the blackened bread. “Yep, looks pretty burnt.”
He huffed and pointed to a pan on the stovetop. “Well, I didn’t burn the soup. It’s just a can so the sodium content might kill you, but at least it’s food.”
So she sat at the table and let Ethan serve her some soup. She stirred