behind her. Mary had never seen her grandmother bested before, and she felt oddly sorry for her, but knew the older woman had it coming to her. Grace Harrington could dish it out, and maybe now she would learn to take it.
Mary watched Ethan grab a beer from the counter and tip it toward the three some. “Good afternoon, ladies. I have every confidence that you can find the front door from here.”
And then he was coming her way, in ten seconds he’d bump right into her. Mary dropped back into a small alcove off the hallway and waited for him to leave the kitchen and pass by her. His jaw tight, his stride purposeful, he walked past her and in the opposite direction of the party. After waiting a moment for her grandmother and her friends to leave, Mary followed Ethan. She had a good idea where he’d be.
She climbed the stairs and walked down the hall, unsure of what she was going to say to him when she found him. The door to the nursery was closed, but that didn’t dissuade her.
Without knocking, she entered the room. Ethan was lying on his back on the floor, staring out the enormous bay window. Sunlight splashed over his handsome face, illuminating his pensive expression.
Mary sat beside him. Maybe he’d been right that day in his office, after their musicless dance, maybe they were becoming friends. God only knew why, after their history. But the fact was she understood him a little better now, understood what drove him. Her mother had felt some of the same feelings of not being good enough, not knowing where she belonged or who really cared about her for herself and not how much money she had.
“She’s right.”
Ethan’s words jarred her, brought her back to the present. “Who’s right?”
“Your grandmother. I’m not worth much more than the trailer I was born in.”
“That’s not exactly what she said.” Mary knew that she sounded as though she were defending Grace, when that’s not what she was trying to do at all. She knew her grandmother had been cold and cruel, but Ethan could be that way as well.
“That’s what she said, Mary. I’ve heard versions of that diatribe many times. From my ex-wife, from my own mother. Doesn’t seem to matter how hard I work.” He shrugged. “I’ll never escape it.”
“This self-pitying thing has to stop, Ethan.”
He sat up, stared at her with cold eyes. “What?”
“Why do you care?” she demanded.
“What?”
“Why do you care what any of them think?”
The anger dropped away, and he shook his head. Just kept shaking his head. “I have no idea.”
“Why can’t you be satisfied with the life you’ve created?”
The double meaning wasn’t lost on either of them, and in that moment, Mary knew it was just a matter of time before she confessed the truth about her pregnancy. She didn’t want to care about him. He’d forced her to make some abominable decisions…and yet…
She put a hand on his shoulder, and in less than an instant he covered it with his own. “Under that layer of pride and arrogance,” she said softly, “is a pretty decent guy. I can’t help but believe that.”
He leaned in until his forehead touched hers. “Even with everything that’s happened?”
“Yes.”
He tipped her chin up and with a soft groan his mouth found hers in a slow, drugging kiss. Mary opened to him, even suckled his bottom lip until he uttered her name and pulled her closer, his tongue mating with hers.
She protested when he pulled away from her, whispering a barely audible no.
With his face still so close to her own, he regarded her intently. “Are you pitying me, Mary?”
She wanted his mouth, his tongue, his skin against hers and no more questions. “Does it matter?” she uttered huskily.
A long moment of silence passed, and then Ethan groaned, a frustrated, animal-like sound. “No,” he muttered, closing his eyes, nuzzling her cheek until he found her mouth again.
Despite the open window, the air in the room had become stiflingly warm. Mary’s limbs felt heavy, and she clung to Ethan for support. His mouth was hard on hers, his breath sweet and intoxicating. For a moment she wondered if she was drunk, but then realized she had been sipping seltzer water all morning. Mouth slanting, Ethan unleashed the full strength of his need, his tongue against hers, caressing the tip until Mary was breathless and limp. Whatever he wanted to do, she was a willing participant.
Without a word, Mary started unbuttoning her white blouse, her fingers shaking. Her skin needed to breathe, needed to be touched. As Ethan chuckled softly against her lips, she tugged away at her shirt, wishing she could just rip it off.
“Let me,” he uttered hoarsely.
“And this,” she practically begged, struggling with the hooks on her pale-pink bra.
“Tell me what you want, Mary.”
“You.”
“My weight on top of you? My chest brushing against your nipples?”
“Your mouth.”
His head was in the crook of her neck, his forehead nuzzling her, his teeth nipping at her skin. “On your mouth? On your breasts? Do you want me to suckle them like I did your tongue?”
“Yes,” came her ragged whisper.
Gently he pulled the straps over her shoulders, eased her bra to her waist. She felt as though she were falling, sliding down, down, until she landed against plush, fuzzy white carpet. Her back to the floor, Ethan poised on top of her, his dark blue eyes hungry, almost desperate, Mary struggled to catch her breath.
“Ethan,” she rasped.
Ethan paused, his body pulsing with heat. He’d never heard her say his name like that—desperately.
His body tight to the point of pain, Ethan slid his hand up her torso to her rib cage and gently cupped one breast. Instantly hungry for more, he brushed his thumb over her nipple until it stiffened into a rosy peak. His mouth watered. He’d tasted her before, but the memory had been little comfort over the past weeks.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, leaning forward into the warmth of her body, her skin, his mouth grazing the tender bud.
Gasping, she arched her back, her chest rising and falling rapidly, one hand fisting the carpet. Her skin was so hot, electric, and he couldn’t help himself, he covered her with his mouth and suckled deeply.
“Oh…” she uttered breathlessly, cupping her other breast. “Oh, Ethan, please.”
Ethan rooted between her ribs to her other breast, over her fingers until he found the sweet, taut peak in the center. Her body danced beneath
