Page 39 of Play to Win
Portia wasn’t listening. She was watching the movie. Eavesdropping was rude. But he was talking louder than Luke Skywalker and Han Solo.
“Are you crazy? Why would you think I’d want to hear from you now or ever?” Ethan was saying.
Portia shifted on the couch. She curled her legs up beneath her and focused all her attention on the screen.
“We have nothing to say to each other, so no, a meeting is out of the question. And your baby isn’t mine, remember?”
That last sentence caught all of Portia’s attention and she looked across the room just in time to see Ethan pressing the button to disconnect the call and glancing up to catch her gaze.
* * *
“It’s not what you think,” Ethan said when he was in the living room again, putting the phone back on its base.
He knew exactly what she was thinking. Just like he knew saying it wasn’t what she thought was most likely the dumbest thing he could’ve said, even though it was true.
Portia reached over to the far end of the couch where she’d dropped the remote control and turned the television off.
“We’re not in a committed relationship,” she said slowly while rubbing her fingers over the remote.
She wouldn’t look at him and that made Ethan even angrier.
“So technically you don’t owe me any explanations.” She cleared her throat. “But I’d like one anyway.”
She did look up at him then, her gaze pinning him where he stood. Ethan didn’t like talking about his past, and he especially didn’t like talking about Stacey and the horrible break-up they’d had. But what he didn’t like most of all was that look of hurt he saw in Portia’s eyes. And even if she wasn’t hurt because they weren’t technically in a committed relationship, he still didn’t like the possibility of her believing he was the type of man that would deny his own child.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and dropped down onto the couch next to her. “I haven’t repeated this story since I was sixteen years old,” he said and couldn’t believe he was about to do so now.
He didn’t need to tell her all of this. He could just say that he knew Stacey’s baby wasn’t his and let that be it. She could either believe him or not. But she wouldn’t believe him and while Ethan accepted that this thing between them was temporary, he would much rather her parting thoughts of him be of a positive nature.
“My mother left when I was six years old. My dad said she couldn’t handle being a mother to a bi-racial kid. I was a little older when it dawned on me that it had taken her six years to realize that she was uncomfortable with her son.” He paused because no matter how many years passed the situation still pissed him off. “My dad was a drunk. From my earliest memories I can remember smelling whiskey on him. That’s actually how I developed my roots in bartending. When dad was too drunk to get up and fix his own drinks, he made me get them. I was ten when my father hit me so hard he knocked me unconscious. When I woke up, I finally figured my mother had actually left because of him and not me.”
“Ethan.” She said his name on a sigh and Ethan shook his head.
“I’m not telling you this for pity. I’m telling you so that you know what I’ve been through and you’ll know the type of man I am,” he said. “When I was fifteen, my dad was fired from his hundredth job. I’d stopped counting how many positions he’d held and lost years before. He drank for three days straight. I came home from school and literally had to step over him passed out on the living room floor. Then one morning I woke up and he wasn’t there. I thought he’d sobered up and went out to find another job. Later that day, I was called to the principal’s office where I was told that my father had driven his car onto the train tracks and sat there drinking a bottle of Hennessey until a train came by and ended his misery.”
She lifted a hand to cover her mouth and Ethan pressed on.
“That’s how I ended up at the Grace House for Boys.”
“Because you were then an orphan,” she said quietly.
He nodded. “Fast forward to senior year in high school. I couldn’t wait to get the hell away from Providence and all the judging eyes of people who’d known both my parents and decided I wasn’t worth a damn because of them. I went to college in Baltimore and applied for the Secret Service immediately after graduating with a bachelor’s degree in Cybersecurity. That’s where I met Stacey Kennedy. We dated privately for a year. No workplace fraternization,” he said when she looked at him questioningly.
“Then one day, Stacey said she wasn’t in love with me anymore. It was an hour after I’d been demoted for the first time in my prestigious career. Later that night, I wanted to speak to Stacey in person, so I went to her apartment. My supervisor, who I considered my mentor, was there. He’s the father of Stacey’s baby. Not me. And I don’t know why she called tonight out of the blue. I haven’t spoken to her in months and I made it clear that I don’t want to speak to her again.”
And there were his first two strikes, he clenched his jaw at that thought. Speaking of them reminded that when Portia had first come to town, he’d sworn she wouldn’t be his third strike.
Portia didn’t say a word. She sat for a few moments just looking at him, before she got up from the couch and came to stand in front of him.
“I believe you, Ethan,” she said. “And I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
There was relief and then there wasrelief. Ethan sighed with the latter, feeling as if a weight he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying on his shoulders had been lifted. Portia now knew the darkest parts of his past and she hadn’t judged him, hadn’t walked away or criticized him the way so many people in his past had done. The way he’d thought she’d do when they were teenagers, hence the reason he’d never told her how he felt about her.
He was just about to suggest that they get back to their evening together when Portia pulled her shirt from her pants and lifted it up and over her head. She unbuttoned the khaki skirt she’d been wearing and pushed it down her legs. She didn’t say a word and Ethan realized that he may have said too many. But he was done talking and from the looks of things, Portia had the right idea. Conversation and movie watching was over.
He pulled off his shirt, undid his pants and pushed them and his boxers down his legs, grabbing a condom before pushing his clothes to the side of the floor next to hers. She watched as he sheathed his dick and then climbed on top of him, lowering herself over him slowly. She cupped his face in her hands and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
There was no pity in her eyes now, but there was sincerity. She could relate to his family life just as he’d been able to relate to hers. Did that make them a perfect match? No. It didn’t. This was no love match, or any other type of match. This was sex. She lifted her hips slightly and eased down over him once more. It was damn good sex. And Ethan was going to enjoy it, for however long it lasted.
So he pushed Stacey, his parents, pity and or apologies out of his mind and closed his eyes to the pleasure. He lifted his hips off the chair until they fell in sync together. Stroking each other in the physical sense, bringing each other pleasure and passion. That was all that mattered. It was all that Ethan wanted ever again.
