Not For Sharing (Romance with Sizzle) (7 page)

“Morning Pru-Bear,”
the voice whispers softly.

I stare hard
in the dim light as his silhouette becomes familiar. There was only one person
who ever called me that.

“Ethan
?
Your hair…?” I pause mid-way to change my intonation from shocked to
breezy, “… you’ve had it cropped, it looks gorgeous. Wow, you took your ‘Top
Gun’ role seriously last night,” I laugh, brushing my hand back and forth over it.
The short bristles were such a lovely sensation and I don’t want to stop
touching him.

The only way
I can describe my reaction to this bizarre event is one of having the breath
knocked out of me. I realise it would seem rather suspicious to continue my
confrontation with Ethan at this late stage so I try to maintain a nonchalance.
Anyway, I’m in no position to throw accusations at him, considering what I
thought I was doing five minutes ago!

He helps me
up to the pillows at the top of the bed and drags the sheet over us.

“I just
fancied a change,” he smiles, as his hand joins mine to rub over the strange
feel of bristles. “I freaked out as soon as soon as I heard the buzz of the clippers
so I’m glad you like it.”

“And what’s
with the stubble?” I ask. "You went to the stag-night without having a
shave?”

Ethan generally
had two looks; raw and rugged for everyday and urbane and groomed for special
occasions. I found the two equally scrumptious to whatever mood I was in, but
admittedly I was always in the mood for him.

“I know, it’s a bit slack isn’t
it? I was going to get the barber to do it but I figure a cut-throat shave isn’t
a smart move when you’re feeling agitated. I’ll do it when we get home.”

“Don’t rush
on my account. You look damn fine either way…but I do love the scrape against
my thighs.”

He smiles
and pulls me in close, reassuring me that I haven’t yet been rumbled and
indicating that he likes my forthright language.

“That was a
quite a performance considering the state you were in last night,” he whispers
as he nibbles affectionately at my ear.

“So what
happened last night?” I change the subject in an attempt to curb any accidental
revelations.

“Well, we
were in
Libertines
and then I left early because I wanted to be at home
when you got in. I don’t think Jonah even noticed I’d left, he was too busy
offering all the guys a lap-dance. Then half-hour after arriving back, Suzy
rang sounding concerned and said you kept asking for me. So I grabbed an
overnight bag, picked you up in a taxi and booked us into here.”

It upsets me
to think I cannot recall most of the night. “The last thing I remember is
passing out on the back seat.”

“So you
don’t remember anything after the taxi?” enquires Ethan.

I think
carefully before I answer. “Not really, it’s just all a blur.”

Ethan begins
to chuckle as I watch him picturing a comical scene in his mind and gestures
with his hand to signal that he wants to poke fun at my seldom seen ineptness.

“You
disappeared into the bathroom to brush your teeth and then I heard you mumbling
something. When I went in to check, I found you holding the showerhead to your
ear. You had this puzzled look and said:
‘Why can’t I get room service on
this phone?’
and then you passed out again.”

 
Ethan lets loose a charming, infectious laugh
and hugs me tighter than I can ever remember. He has this wonderful knack of
seeing the funny side of any absurd or mundane moment and quite soon you forget
what the conversation was and just end up laughing at his laughter.

I gaze up at
Ethan, wondering if he can sense how much I worship the bones of him. Then the
sheet suddenly slips away from his body and my mouth drops open in shock.

“Ethan! What the hell is that?” I
notice a large bruise on his chest, it was like a raging bluish-purple tattoo.
I impulsively press it, shocked by its severity and Ethan winces.

“Sorry”, I say sincerely.

“So you haven’t listened to my
voicemail then? I explained everything on there.”

“No, it was turned off all night.
Why? Tell me what’s happened, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry Pru, I have a confession.
For the past nine months I’ve been back on the boxing circuit.”

“Oh my God!
How could you?! You even said yourself it was barbaric. If you weren’t so
bruised I’d punch you myself!”

I suddenly
recall the times when Ethan had arrived home with bruises to his arms, cuts and
grazes to his hands and eyes but he had blamed it on the perils of his job. I pull
away from him to turn over and huff loudly in aggravation. However, it suddenly
occurs to me that maybe this could explain his perplexing behaviour; a small
amount of relief begins to lighten the load on my heart.

“So you’ve been doing it on the
side as well as working?”

“Of course, it was just a
temporary thing, my last fight was two days ago.”

“So you
being out the house so often, was that for training?”

Before he
answers, I think of other details that need clarification, quite a few details
actually, so I open my mouth to speak again.

“Yeh, some training
and some business, but Pru, just be quiet and listen,” Ethan instructs me
sternly. I always paid attention when Ethan spoke in an austere tone as I knew
he only used it when absolutely necessary.

“You’re
going to be 30 in four months. I did want to surprise you with these closer to
your birthday but when you accused me of an affair I knew I couldn’t wait any
longer.”

He reaches
out to the bedside table to pick up his wallet. I watch and wait as my mind
sprints ahead to figure out what the hell is going on, but I arrive at a
dead-end. He produces two tickets and hands them to me. I scour over it hurriedly
and the bombshell finally drops.

“They’re
tickets to Australia,” he  explains, “I’ve used the prize money from the fights
to pay for it, a three week stay in spa resorts around Sydney, Ayers Rock and
The Barrier Reef and we fly first class both ways. My last winnings will be our
spending money.”

I look up
from the tickets, my mouth agape. Then I screech out loud like I haven’t done
since I was a child when my dad brought home a pet puppy. I kick my legs up and
down on the mattress and beat my fists on the sheets, unable to hold in my
jubilance.

As the
enormity of it all sinks in, I become subdued and my voice muted. “This must have
cost the earth Ethan, oh my God, I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“I hated the
secrecy; it killed me, and if I ever pushed you away, it was because I never
wanted you to see my injuries… looks I’m not as light on my feet as I used to
be,” he says in a most winsome, melancholic tone.

After a
second’s pause, I burst into laughter at his pitiful face and then I lovingly wiggle
the tip of his nose between my fingers.

“Mr Cassidy,
I do believe that
you
are a peach,” I say, smiling broadly at his
big-hearted gesture, “but I never thought you’d bruise like one.”

Ethan begins
to snigger but flinches immediately, holding his chest in a sequence of
amusement and pain. The cycle continues, as the farce we find ourselves in
slowly dawns on us.

“It’s your
fault anyway, you’ve turned me soft. I was undefeated though so that’s something
to smile about, and I mean
smile
, not laugh, whatever you do, don’t
laugh,” he says clutching at his chest again.

“Then in
that case, it’s the most awesome, most romantic and the most dumbass thing
anyone has ever done for me. Oh wow, I can’t believe that
I’m actually going to Australia, and I’ll be
there with my favourite person in the world.”

Ethan stares
at me, stony-faced. “Hey, I thought I’d warned that bastard to keep away from
you.”

I lie beside
him and smother his face in kisses. “I mean
you
, you silly fool, thank-you,
thank-you, thank-you. I’m sorry for being such a cow yesterday, I don’t deserve
you.”

I pray he
cannot hear the perplexing guilt etched in my words. A look of concern appears
on his face.

“You’ve no
need to apologise,” he stresses, tucking my tangled hair behind my ear. “I
promise from now on that whatever doesn’t make you happy, I will fix.” His
voice is quiet and heart-rending, and he kisses me tenderly. I squeeze him
tight and melt into his arms, elated by his sentiment.

My joy is
interrupted by the guilt of my imagined indiscretion, compounded by the fact
that Ethan is so bloody perfect. I’m not even sure how to articulate what has
just occurred.

If one
falsely believes they are being unfaithful, is it still classed as infidelity?

However, as I contemplate whether
I should reveal my secret to anyone, I recall a friend once advising another:

‘Confession may be good for
the soul, but it's often bad for the reputation.’

So I
promptly dismiss the conundrum. That’s one for the philosophers, rather like
Descartes’s ‘if a tree falls down in a forest…’enigma.

My shock dissipates
and I feel revived, like a phoenix from the flames. I realise our passion had
never really disappeared, just mislaid in the confusion. I take comfort from
his impassioned eyes, knowing that we are just like any other couple, bumbling
through love’s ups and downs and sometimes being lucky enough to meet in the
middle.

So who cares
that I wouldn’t be doing ‘the walk of shame’ to shock my friends with? I had
just experienced something more precious, an unabashed lust for the man I had
tried so hard not to fall in love with, when it was quite simply unavoidable. I
leap up with a newly-found vitality, turn on the side-lamp and straddle his abs.
I notice a pair of jeans airing over the radiator, a familiar pair of jeans…aha,
it’s the red chino’s making their second appearance.

“Why on earth are they damp?” I
ask with curiosity.

“Uh…when your head was on my lap
in the taxi last night…”

“Yes.”

“Well, you
kinda threw up over them so I rinsed them out,” he says; and then in anticipation
of my horror, he quickly adds, “I never liked them anyway.”

I bury my
head in my hands. I may, one day, be able to recall this night and smile
nostalgically. Although, not right now. Luckily for me, material
things hold no value for Ethan, especially when
that material is covered in re-cycled cocktails
.

“Pru, you
were very entertaining, it was like watching a sexy Bambi learning to walk. Now
come out from behind there. I’m missing that beautiful face.”

He always
knows how to make me feel wonderful, no matter what I do or say.

“You know
for a moment earlier on, it was as if you were surprised to see me,” Ethan
comments casually, rubbing non-existent grit out of his eye; a displacement
gesture I believe it’s called in ‘body language’ terms.

Oh God,
Oh God, Oh God, he knows....For Christ’s sake Pru, speak…say anything!
I
can’t understand why I can’t just lie to him. It’s like I’m a child all over
again with my kindly father drawing out the truth from me. I could never lie to
him either when he looked me in the face so sweetly. The second’s pause seems
to last for hours as Ethan waits for reassurance, his vulnerable eyes yearning
for me to erase his doubt. When he recognises that I’m struggling, he jumps in
to rescue me, like a brother heroically taking the blame for his little sister crayoning
over the walls.

“But then I realised
how ridiculous that was because you called out my name this morning to wake me
up.” He smiles at me, looking more than satisfied with his own explanation for
my actions, but I know he suspects something. He knows I know too.

I battle to
suppress a sigh of relief. Ethan’s swift settlement of what could have been a
very awkward exchange just endears me to him more, if that was possible. His
hands reach out to fondle my pliant breasts and he simply stares up at me, as
if trying to uncover the secrets in my mind. Then he pulls me forward to lie down
on his chest. My nipples tingle in arousal as they are squeezed hard against
the warm skin of his defined torso.

He presses
his mouth against my left ear and inhales deeply. “You do know I live for you
don’t you? You’re the beat in my heart, the breath in my lungs and the blood in
my veins,” he whispers as he caress’s my back. His words wash over me like a
warm ocean wave and I’m revelling in the renewed attention, so I respond with light-hearted
impudence.

“Well that’s
nice dear…but I’m not sure you’ve declared your desire for me.” I didn’t intend
to sound quite like
Scarlett O’Hara
though.

“Well, if I
told you that just the mention of your name makes me hard and want to be inside
you, would that satisfy madam?”

“
Pru
,”
I murmur provokingly, in a wish to test his theory.

“
Shit
,
you’ve asked for it now Pru,” he growls, sitting up and pushing me backwards
across the bed. “Oh Jeez, now I’ve done it too.”

I begin to
belly-laugh as Ethan switches into his sorely-missed comedic side. He grabs
hold of his stiffening erection and writhes around, handling it like a wild
animal. “You’ve unleashed the beast Pru…and he wants your scent,” he warns with
an ardent stare and I find it the most delicious turn-on.

He nestles himself
on top of me and allows the beast to playfully torment my nagging groin, taking
my breath away. “How about we try some role-play later? I still have the
uniform back at home. We could be two strangers having a one night stand, a
pilot and stewardess perhaps?” he suggests.

“Yeh, strangers,
let’s pretend,” I reply with a slight unease as I recognise the irony of my
words.

I have a
feeling that my vibrating toys won’t be getting a look-in for a while. My new
toy is the real deal, all man and no batteries required.