I Know What I'm Doing Ch. 01

No! I can't be coming to thoughts of-

Ethan's beaded nipples, his gleaming skin, his tight arse. His tight arse.

His tight arse! My orgasm exploded before I could coherently recognise its arrival, before I could stop it. It rumbled up my legs and made me thrust reflexively, moaning because my hand simply wasn't enough. The skin on my back prickled as I thought about him right there, within reach. I sank against the wall.

When the hell did I stop thinking about Carolynn - no, Jemma - and start fantasising about the man on my balcony?

I didn't dwell on it. I fled.

I slipped from my room in calf-length shorts and a t-shirt and headed to the downstairs guest bathroom to retrieve my wetsuit and hightail it out of there. I'd heard reports of some decent waves and hoped a few hours spent surfing would loosen me up. And keep me away from Ethan. I breathed a sigh of relief as my front door closed behind me.

Coward.

Then I stiffened two steps into the enclosed garden between my home and the guesthouse. Ethan was crouching on the paving in the centre, shoulders slumped. His forehead was leaning on one knee and the sunlight hit the back of his head, making his hair shine. He'd heard my footsteps and spun around, snapping his startled gaze to mine.

Now the sun picked up the tears in his eyes, making each drop gleam before it fell to his cheek. His irises were sparkling again, but it's different to the other times. They were so light they were almost colourless, bright with the pain that had driven him to his knees beneath the clear blue skies.

I didn't stop to think. I dropped my bag and strode to him, heart reaching out. He turned his face from me as if to hide, but I dropped down and embraced him anyway. His skin and hair were warm, his tears cool against my neck. I held him tightly, rubbing his back with one hand and combing the fingers of the other through his hair. I squeezed him to me until his tense withdrawal melted and his resistance poured out with the sobs he no longer tried to stifle. He shook as his arms went around my neck and locked us together as if he were breathing only through the breaths I drew.

I stood and he moved with me, refusing or unable to loosen his hold on my neck, so I wrapped him in my arms and lifted him. He seemed to hesitate until I crooned, "It's ok, baby." then his legs circled my waist and I was able to walk into the house with him.

I headed straight for his room, rubbing the agonised curve of his spine the whole way. When we got there, I sat on the bed with him on my lap and leaned back against the continental pillows. I eased him down beside me as the weeping slowly ebbed. At the same time I felt the tight knot in my chest ease and unfurl, making it a little easier to breathe. I'd never had such an acute reaction to another's pain before.

Probably because I knew I was the cause of this particular torment. I'd insisted that Ethan stay in my home and then done nothing but needle him since he'd arrived - and finally he'd broken down. I was ashamed of myself. Now I had to face the consequences. When his strength and senses returned he'd lash out, no doubt. And insist on packing up and leaving. I'd understand such a desire, but also knew that I had to do whatever it took to make sure that didn't happen. I had no idea how convince him to stay.

Well, an apology was a good first step. I took a breath. And a second, deeper one.

"Ethan... I'm so sorry. Seems like I'm always apologising to you... You don't deserve anything I've said to you, or the way I've treated you. Seeing you like this... it's awful. I know you probably want to get as far away from as you can - why do I always make you want to run from me? - but please give me one more chance. I think something's happening between us, whether I understand it or not. I know what I said before, but... I think about you... and want to touch you. But that's not all there is: I want to see you happy, like the way your eyes sparkled when you stood on my doorstep, sopping wet but with a grin on your face the day you arrived. I want-"

A snort came from my chest area. I stopped and listened. Nothing. Then I looked down. Ethan was fast asleep, snuggled up on my chest. His long black lashes fanned his cheeks and soft, sweet breaths burst from his lips at regular intervals. I inhaled deeply, savouring the moment, pretending for a heartbeat or two that he was mine to hold and I was in his dreams as he slumbered. He probably didn't hear a word I'd whispered. Would he be interested in listening when he woke up? I doubted it.

I eased him off me, deciding to let him enjoy his peace. Getting his arms untangled was tricky as he tightened his grip when I tried to get him to let go. I smiled at his mumbled protests, taking a little satisfaction in the thought that I might not be the only one caught in this unshakeable bond.

"Ethan, baby, let go. Shhh..." I finally stood.

"Mark, please. Don't... go..."

The plea shot straight through my core and an instant chill whipped around my throat and settled at the nape of my neck. Mark?

Obviously his partner, you self-deluding dipstick. Shallow breaths, shallow breaths, why the hell couldn't I get a deeper breath in?

I numbly reached for the green throw at the foot of the bed and covered him with it. My hand went to brush his hair back when I came to my senses and clenched it instead.

Then I turned and left.