Page 12 of Wish You Weren't Here
‘We should probably get this off, before we go back through there,’ I point out. ‘We don’t want to make a mess.’
‘Fair enough,’ he replies.
In one swift movement, Ethan reaches out and turns on the large shower head that hovers above us. As the initially freezing cold water crashes down over us I squeal.
Of course, the second Ethan peels off his shirt and drops his trousers, revealing his muscular, underwear-model-type body, I forget how cold I am. He reaches forward to help me remove my dress so I turn around, so he can undo my zip.
He lets my dress fall away before pressing his body up against my back, pinning me to the cool tiles.
I know, I know, I’m rushing into things, but I just keep thinking about Jennifer’s motivational Post-it that Ethan wrote his number on.
Your intuition knows her shit.
Tonight I’m going with my intuition, not my common sense, and maybe it’s a recipe for disaster but tonight… maybe I don’t care?
4
The shrill sound of my alarm practically punches me awake, dragging me out of a dream that I’ve already forgotten. Ugh. It feels way too early for this, and my head is pounding.
I fumble around for my phone, to silence the alarm, to try to stop the high-pitched tone vibrating through my skull. When it finally stops I let out a groan, because if my alarm is going off, that means it’s a workday.
I rub my eyes, trying to get them to accept the fact that they have to open, and that’s when it hits me. Oh my God. My eyes snap open as I suddenly realise where I am and what I’ve done. I’m in a hotel room – Ethan’s hotel room. And not just in his room. I’m in his bed.
I stare up at the wall in front of me, given that I’m lying on my side, and it’s like there is a projector showing scenes from last night on the blank space as the flashbacks come in thick and fast, in all their horny glory. Bloody hell, no wonder I feel like I barely slept – I don’t recall spending much time on my back. I feel exhausted, but… in a good way?
Just as I’m wondering how to navigate things this morning, there’s a soft knock at the door. I freeze, my heart leaping intomy throat. Ethan shifts beside me, and I feel the bed dip as he gets up to answer it.
There’s a murmur of voices, Ethan’s low and soothing, the other person’s too soft to make out. I take a deep breath and slowly roll over, the throbbing in my head intensifying with the movement.
When I open my eyes again, Ethan is walking back toward the bed, pushing a large room-service trolley loaded with all sorts of things. He looks unfairly good for this hour – hair tousled in that sexy, effortless way and a grin that’s just too charming for my poor sleep-deprived brain to handle.
‘Breakfast,’ he says. ‘I thought you might appreciate something to eat, before work.’
‘How are you perfect in the morning too?’ I blurt.
‘Thanks,’ he says with a smile as he pours two cups of coffee.
‘It’s definitely a compliment but I think I need an answer,’ I reply, laughing softly to myself.
Is he real? This godlike man standing in front of me, with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, pouring me a cup of coffee.
He sits down on the bed next to me, handing me my cup. I take a sip and, ugh, it’s heaven.
‘That’s so good, thank you,’ I tell him, setting it down on the bedside table. ‘This place is… wow, it’s really nice. So fancy.’
‘Yeah, it’s all right, isn’t it?’ he replies. ‘It’s so hi-tech though. Look.’
Ethan dumps no less than four remote controls down on the bed.
‘Beyond the TV one, I have no idea,’ he admits.
‘I wonder if one makes the bed do something,’ I say, picking one up to examine it. ‘The only thing I’m missing is a massage.’
‘Is that a hint?’ he asks.
‘It wasn’t, but…’
Ethan moves over, so that he’s sitting behind me, with one leg on either side of me. He starts working on my shoulders with his thumbs and, wow, that’s incredible.
