Rare Blend (Red Mountain #1)

28. Ethan

CHAPTER 28

Ethan

I BELIEVE IN YOU

I f it was possible to die from blue balls, I would be a dead man.

Who knew little cherries could be so sexy, especially when they’re scattered across that scrap of fabric she called shorts. I could practically see her pussy, and I know for an absolute fact she wasn’t wearing underwear. There wasn’t a line or indent of a thong anywhere across her ass. And believe me, I was looking. I could hardly look anywhere else. My eyes kept coming back to her like there were magnets all over her body. It’s a miracle I didn’t come in my pants the moment she came out of the bathroom in those sinful pajamas.

I hardly slept, my mind working in overdrive, fantasizing about Marisa in more ways than I can count. I can barely look her in the eye this morning. Thank goodness she’s in the bathroom getting ready, it gives me a moment to wrangle my racing thoughts.

As soon as day broke, I hopped into the shower. The water barely started beating down on my back before I curled my fingers around my painfully hard cock. I thought I had self-control, that I had better restraint than this, but I was wrong. With my palm braced on the tile wall, I pictured her. I pictured her on her knees, those doe eyes begging for me, pouty lips in a perfect O. I pictured her bent over, me sliding my cock between those delicious ass cheeks. I pictured pulling on her long hair and wrapping it around my fist while I fucked her from behind. I pictured picking her up and feeling her bitable thighs wrap around my waist as she sunk down on my cock. Her smell was everywhere, infiltrating the bathroom and tangling with my fantasies. I came hard, my cum jetting out and splattering across the shower tiles. After my blinding orgasm faded, realization hit me. I was beyond fucked. It doesn’t matter how many times I picture her while I fuck my own fist, it’ll never be enough. I want the real thing. I want her, and I don’t think it’s a one and done kind of want. It’s consuming and visceral.

As I’m seated on the edge of the bed, trying to keep my thoughts in line, she walks out of the bathroom dressed, wearing a form-fitting skirt with a blouse tucked in. She comes up to me and does a spin.

“Well? What do you think? Does it say hire me ?”

“I would definitely hire you.” I would also fuck you, but I’ll keep that to myself.

She stares at her reflection in the mirror. “Is this skirt flattering? I feel like it makes my stomach look weird.”

Is she seeing something I don’t?

“You look gorgeous.” I have to hold in my wince for letting my mouth speak before my brain could intercept the compliment from me.

Her hands that were smoothing over the fabric of the skirt stop mid-stroke, and her eyes meet my gaze in the mirror. “You really think so?”

Her voice sounds so vulnerable it almost doesn’t sound like her. Marisa usually comes off as very confident. I would never guess she sees herself as anything less than beautiful.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I’m not about to start now.”

I already checked the pass report, but we double check it again and thankfully it says it’s clear. There’s still snow covering the ground, but the sun is out and slowly melting everything. All the roofs are dripping in melted snow.

“I hope we make it on time,” Marisa says as I pull out of the parking lot of the shittiest motel I’ve ever stayed in.

“We will. We have plenty of time.”

Marisa grows quieter and quieter the closer we get to Seattle. By the time we’re downtown, she’s completely silent, her mouth drawn in a thin line, hands clenched in tight fists. I can practically feel the nervousness coming off her.

“Nervous?”

“Just a bit.” She lets out a breathy laugh.

I pull into the loading zone outside the building her interview is in. It’s one of the various skyscrapers that’s part of the Seattle skyline.

“You’re going to do great.”

She takes a deep, shaky breath. “You think so?”

Every instinct in me wants nothing more than to pull her into my arms and try to give her comfort. I hate seeing her like this, so unsure of herself. The confidence she usually wears seems to have left her. Despite wanting to hold her, I can’t. That would be weird. So I do the one thing I hope she won’t pull away from, even if it is crossing a line that shouldn’t be crossed. I grab her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together.

Her small, smooth hand fits nicely in my rough palm. For a moment, time suspends. My heart beats in fast succession, pounding the blood in my ears to the point that all noise dulls. It’s just me and Marisa, holding hands, and nothing has ever felt more right.

Through thick lashes, she looks down at our intertwined hands and then meets my gaze.

I give her hand a squeeze. “You’ve got this.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I’ve only known you for a short while, but it’s abundantly clear that there’s nothing you can’t do. I mean, look at you, writing for the newspaper and killing it. You’ve been in town for five minutes and you’re already the town sweetheart. You’re smart and kind and completely relentless. I believe in you.”

Her eyes turn glassy, and she gives me a fragile smile, the corners of her mouth barely lifting.

I’m so gone for this girl. And I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to keep it to myself, seeing as I can barely look away from her. I knew this trip was going to test me, but I didn’t realize it was going to push me over the edge and down a free fall.

I don’t stand a chance against those deep-brown eyes and sweet, sunshine smile. I never did. I was a fool for thinking pushing her away would diffuse my feelings for her. If anything, it made them stronger, and now, I’m aptly in the friend zone.

She reaches for the door, and I give her hand one final squeeze before letting her go.

“Break a leg.”

Woodinville, a small, destination wine town, is a quick, thirty-minute drive north of Seattle. The meeting goes smoothly. And truthfully, I could’ve done it over video chat. I won’t tell Marisa that, though.

When I get back to Seattle, I wait in the loading zone for her to come out. I already sent her a text explaining where I was. A few minutes later, she emerges from the building with a beaming smile.

She slides into the truck, her wide smile still splitting her face.

“I take it the interview went well.”

She throws her head back, sinking into the seat, and sighs. “It was amazing. I mean everything is mountains above the last company I was at, and their benefits package was amazing, and everyone seemed so nice. I couldn’t ask for a better work environment. Plus, Zoe, my former coworker, works there, so I know it wasn’t a bunch of smoke and mirrors.”

As happy as I am for her, I can’t help but feel the seed of anxiety plant and take root. If she gets this job, then that’s it. She’s gone. It’s everything she wants, and I want that for her, but selfishly, I don’t want her to leave before we have a chance to explore what this is. Right now, it’s friendship, but I’ve caught her giving me the same longing stares I give her when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I hope to hell my feelings aren’t one-sided. Maybe I was imagining the way she practically drooled watching me take off my shirt. Did I do it purposefully slow? Yes. But I also thought she wouldn’t have a reaction to me. Still, a physical attraction and real feelings are completely different.

“That’s great. I bet they’ll give you an offer.”

“I hope so. It’s the waiting that’s going to be torture. They also said the position wouldn’t start until after the holidays. So, even if I get the job, I’ll still be waiting around for a bit.”

My blood pressure spikes. Two months. I have two months to explore if there actually is something between us. Or at least attempt to. I fully expect to be shot down the second I move past a line she isn’t ready to cross. She hasn’t spoken about it much, but I know her breakup is fresh, and she’s probably not interested in getting involved with someone else so quickly. Least of all a guy still working toward earning her forgiveness.

“What time are we meeting up with your friends?”

“In thirty minutes. We’re meeting them at Buckley’s. And just to warn you, the place is a dive bar and incredibly loud. They’re usually playing some sports game on the TVs and the crowd chants loudly. So, if it gets to be too much, let me know and we can go take a breather or walk around the block.”

She busies herself, typing in the address for me on the screen, but I can hardly focus on that when I feel shocked by her consideration for me. She seems to know I get anxious in large crowds despite never having spoken about it. Rather than making me feel small for it, she weaves it into the conversation, offering me solutions if my anxiety gets to be too much. She really is pure sunshine. She has no idea that what she said means so much to me, and I have no way to truly express it.