Page 40 of All Her Broken Pieces

“You could teach me how to make it.”

“And have you stop coming into the restaurant? Then what would you need me for? I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“It may not have been yesterday, but it wasn’t that long ago.”

His brows furrow, and a line appears between them. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Make jokes about my age. You keep using it as an excuse to push me away. I’ve already told you, it’s not going to scare me off.” His eyes darken and roam up and down my body.

I shift awkwardly in my seat, the heat of his gaze lighting up my insides as I taunt, “What are you going to do about it?”

He leans forward, bracing his hands on the island in front of him. The move makes his muscles strain against the fabric of his shirt, stirring something deep in my core. And even though he’s in the kitchen and I’m in the living room, it feels like we are inches apart. “Once you get the green light, I’m going to punish that perfect little ass of yours. Either with my hand, my tongue, or my cock. So I suggest you stop mentioning our ages, or you pick a safe word. It’s your choice.”

I can feel my arousal soaking my panties. The goddamn mouth on this man. It’s not often I’m rendered speechless. Witty comebacks are my thing. Part of my armor. Equally part of my charm and downfall. I’ve picked up a lot of things working in the corporate world, and being able to give it back to men verbally is a skill I’ve honed. It’s surprising how easily men trust you when you can take a joke and snap one back. It’s part of what helped me move up at my company. Men like working with women who don’t create drama and have a good sense of humor. And I’ve put up with a lot of good ole boys in my career. But no one’s ever spoken to me like Ethan.

However, at this moment, not a single word comes to mind. Not a single thought enters my head other than the thought of Ethan doing all those things to me.

Several tortuous moments pass, and Ethan returns his focus to our meal, but I can’t stop picturing all the ways he’ll punish my body. Careful not to make any sudden movements, I use my arms to push myself off the couch.

“I’m going to take a shower,” I announce, not sure why I’m doing so. Maybe because I want him to picture me naked the way I’m picturing him right now. I turn and begin heading down the hall to my bedroom.

“No, you’re not.” His deep voice booms across the apartment. “You have to wait seventy-two hours, remember?”

Even though I haven’t been very active since I came home—aside from our walks—I’m starting to feel like I want to bathe, even if it might hurt to bend and reach all my places.

“That’ll be tomorrow. Close enough,” I call out, keeping my back to him.

Before I have a chance to register what’s happening, his hands are holding my biceps, pulling me back to him. I wince at the pain that lances my shoulder from the movement.

“Shit, sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, my shoulder’s been hurting since last night.”

“The nurse said that could happen. Need anything for the pain?” he asks, gently turning me to face him.

“I might take something with dinner,” I acquiesce. Suddenly, I’m aware of how close we are standing. His body is mere inches from mine as the energy sparks between us.

“I’ve got soup simmering on the stove, and it should be ready in the next thirty minutes. Then I can help you with a sponge bath, and we can get a heating pad on your shoulder while you relax on the couch. That sound like a plan?”

“Y-yeah,” I breathe as the heat from the closeness of his body sends a shiver through me.

Noticing the tremor, he shoves his hands in his pockets as he leans in close to my ear and asks, “Are you cold?”

“No, I…”

My words trail off as he leans in closer. “I know you feel this, Bridget. If you need to call it a friendship, I’ll play along. For now. But I really fucking like you. Your spark. Your wit. Your bite. Your body. You’re the whole goddamn package, and I’d be a fool to let you push me away. I know you don’t let a lot of people in, but I’ll knock on your door every fucking day for the chance to spend even a minute with you.”

An appliance beeps in the kitchen, causing him to back away slowly, his hands still in his pockets.

____________

We finish dinner, but Ethan’s plea from earlier keeps swirling around in my head. Thoughts of his plan for me after dinner send a thrill of delight through me.

Letting him give me a sponge bath should scare me. It’s an incredibly intimate act. But this man has shown me that he’s not afraid of intimacy even if my hesitancy is obvious. He’s always offered me an out, knowing I need it, but still pushing me for more. We’ve already showered together, and he washed my hair. This is just like that, right?

I couldn’t imagine letting anyone else in my inner circle do this for me. The thought of Ethan doing it excites me, and for once I don’t have an urge to push him away. Huh. When did that happen?

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