Page 10 of Blood and Buttercups

I nod.

“Do you enjoy it?”

“I do. It’s a lot more work than I expected, but it’s a wonderful job. Flowers make people happy.”

I ask Ethan more about his real estate ventures, and by the time we return to the car, that nervous feeling has somewhat dissipated.

We took long enough the parking lot is now empty, and the lake is quiet.

“What time is it?” I ask, realizing I left my phone in his car.

“After ten.”

“We should get going. It’s late.”

“I had a good time,” Ethan says, extending his hand for a shake.

I take it, smiling. “This feels awkward.”

Gently, he tugs me in for a hug. “Better?”

I nod.

We pull back just enough to study each other in the dark.

“I was going to be a gentleman and wait,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to my lips. “But I’m not sure I have the willpower.”

When he moves in to kiss me, I freeze.

I haven’t kissed anyone but Kevin in two years. Kevin, who kissed Sugar Baby. Maybe others. Kevin, who isn’t even decent enough to pick up the phone to give me closure.

I don’t owe him anything. My loyalty, my heart—nothing.

With that thought, I close my eyes and let Ethan kiss me. It’s perfectly okay…though a little cold. Not emotionally cold, but physically. His lips are chilled. Maybe I was wrong earlier—maybe Ethan wasn’t nervous; he just has poor circulation.

Focus, Piper.

Just when I think Ethan’s about to pull back, he tilts his head and moves in for more. His lips become insistent. I wait for a spark of heat, something warm and welcome.

But I feel nothing.

The kiss isn’t exciting. It’s just different. Different lips, different face, different hands on my waist. When the guilt rises, I tamp it down.

I attempt to shift back as Ethan breaks away from my mouth and trails his cold lips down my jaw, but he presses a hand to my side, holding me in place. When he reaches my throat, I recoil, not ready for this.

“I won’t ever cheat on you, Piper,” he whispers against my skin. “I’ve been faithful since I saw you, knowing you’d eventually be mine.”

Whoa.

“Ethan…wait a minute.”

I try to tug away, but he holds me tighter, and emotion finally grips me—but instead of heat, it’s fear.

Panic tightens my throat as I struggle against him. “Ethan!”

“It will only hurt for a second,” he promises, and then there’s fire in my neck. The pain is paralyzing—unimaginable and blinding.

I scream, desperate to pull away.

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