Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 (30 page)

“It’s okay. I’ve just—I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about all of those feelings before, especially about how I’ve always felt inferior to Babette.” She paused, then added, “Well, no one besides Granny Gert.”

“I’m glad you talked to me.”

She sniffed, rubbed her eyes with her fingertips, then kissed his chin. “We’ve only got one more day, Ethan. I don’t want to waste a minute. Make love to me here.”

His spirits fell then lifted in one hard swoop.
One more day.
She’d said it. Clarise didn’t intend on bringing what they shared back home. Those three words,
one more day,
ripped at his heart. Almost as much as the other two words she’d stated afterward made it swell. For the first time yet, Clarise hadn’t said she wanted to “have sex.” And that, Ethan thought, would see him through the dilemma of proving how much they shared, because Clarise had asked him to do exactly what he planned.
Make love.

Chapter 19

C
larise had made a tactical error. With the emotions involved in sharing her insecurities with Ethan, she’d slipped up and asked him what she really wanted. Had he noticed?
Make love to me here,
she’d said. As his long fingers tripped inside the gathered elastic edge of her blouse and slid it down her breasts, she realized Ethan was more than happy to oblige . . . with giving her sex on the beach, she reminded herself, not making love. Though her mind and, more importantly, her heart adamantly refused to recognize the difference.

The wind whistled as it pressed through the tall grass surrounding them on the sand. Did Ethan stop here on purpose? Where they were practically enclosed by the tall, swaying reeds and provided with complete privacy? As if anyone could see them now that darkness had settled over Florida. But still, Ethan had promised he wouldn’t embarrass her when he fulfilled her fantasy, and, as she’d told the woman with the exquisite scarves, Ethan Eubanks kept his promises. He was protecting her once more, she realized, as her shirt bunched beneath her heavy breasts, and her arms were trapped at her sides by the capped sleeves. Ethan had also protected her Friday night, when he’d arrived just in time to keep her from baring her body, or at least her breasts, to Tampa. Sure, she’d shown the lace-encased view, but given a little more time with that potent daiquiri pulsing through her system, and she’d have taken it all off. She had no doubt. After making sure she kept the majority of her clothes on, he’d continued taking care of her when the impact of the slushy drink met her empty stomach and made her feel like she actually was Dead On Arrival.

Throughout the weekend, he’d given her the most exciting sexual experiences she’d ever hoped to have, all because he wanted to protect her from getting hurt. He hadn’t wanted her wild fantasies to get her in trouble. Going above and beyond the call of friendship, for sure. Then today, once again, he’d held her and taken care of her when she finally admitted out loud that she’d resented growing up next to her feisty, sexy and tiny sister. And when she’d finally admitted the truth, Ethan had listened, without passing judgment. He gave her exactly what she needed, a friend to trust, someone who would listen and who knew her well enough to understand and someone who made her believe she didn’t have to continue this crazy comparison game with Babette. He said she was beautiful, and Clarise’s heart believed him.

“You’re beautiful, Clarise,” he said, as if he knew the very words her mind kept repeating. Slowly, he slid a palm up her belly, over the gathered fabric of her shirt, then to the center of her pink strapless bra.

She closed her eyes. His hand had crept across her stomach, and she hadn’t even thought to suck it in. What’s more, he hadn’t seemed to notice.
He thinks I’m beautiful.
Unhooking the clasp, he let the two sides of the bra fall open and immediately clamped his mouth over one breast, while his opposite hand gently kneaded and massaged the other. Both tips peaked and pulsed under his masterful touch, until her back arched from the blanket to get closer. He reversed sides, kneading the wet nipple while pulling the other inside his mouth. It was more than she could take. Rather, she wanted to take more. Of Ethan. Right here. Right now.

“More,” she whispered, feeling an urgent need to convey the burning passion, the aching hunger. “I want more.”

“Tell me what you want, Clarise.”

Her hands were still trapped by the fabric, and she squirmed to free her arms. “I want to touch you.”

Filmy clouds cloaked the majority of the moon, but there was enough of an illumination to see his smile.

“I want that too,” he admitted. Then he gathered the fabric of her top in both hands and shimmied it up and over her breasts, freeing her head and arms from all forms of confinement. Her jeans were still in place, but she didn’t care. He’d remove those too, but right now, she had to feel him, touch him, the part of him her core burned to have again.

Her blouse had barely left her body before her hands began wrestling with the button on his jeans. Dang, it was tough to concentrate when she wanted him so badly. Finally popping the metal through the buttonhole, she lowered the zipper, then nudged his jeans down, moving her hands within his briefs to . . .
yes.
He was hard. For her. Long. For her. Thick. For her. And he had that exquisite drop of moisture at the tip, a sign that he was oh-so-ready. For her.

She circled him with her palm, thrilled when the warmth of him transferred to her skin, tingled up her arm and made her nipples ache. Even more noticeable with the sand’s coolness penetrating the thin blanket, Ethan’s heat cloaked her with—desire. “I want you inside of me.”

“Exactly where I want to be.” Unlike her, his hands didn’t fumble at all with the closure on her jeans, or the zipper, or the thong panties she’d worn for the occasion, though he did pause to emit a sexy whistle when his hands met the wispy thread of pale pink lace between her thighs.

She’d never dreamed of wearing a thong before. Sexy lingerie, yes. But a thong? No way. However, she’d purchased one—or three—in her mad dash through the store in Trussville, and she’d wanted to wear this pink one, the one that matched her blouse exactly, for Ethan. Because she knew he’d like it and because the way he looked at her, and the way he continued to praise her and tell her she was beautiful, had given her the confidence she needed to pull it off. Speaking of pulling it off, Ethan was doing just that. Pulling the thong from her body. With his teeth.

“Ohmigod.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

After he’d stripped her completely, he ran a hand between her legs, up her thigh, then brushed the backs of his fingertips across her mound. She instantly bowed upward toward his touch. “Please.”

“You’re so wet,” he revealed, as if she didn’t know. Then he licked his fingers, and she wanted to die. If he didn’t get inside her soon, very soon, she suspected she would. “Ethan—”

“Yes?” he asked, smiling as he removed a foil packet from his back pocket.

“You know.”

Then he shucked his jeans and dang if he didn’t look even bigger than she’d remembered.

“What is it, Clarise?” he repeated, while he stroked her clit with his thumb and let his hardness press to her side.
Her side?
She had to have him. Soon. And she was tired of being nice about it. “Please” was undoubtedly the word he expected, but Clarise wasn’t asking. She was demanding.

“Now.”

The sound he returned was half laugh, half growl and wholly erotic. “As the lady wants,” he said, rising to kneel before her and sheathing his length with the condom.

It shouldn’t have been so intoxicating, watching him roll the soft latex over his hard penis, seeing him touch himself in preparation for making love to her. But, heaven help her, it was, and her center practically quaked in anticipation. She opened her legs wider, watched him get closer, hovering over her and waiting for—
what?

“Make love to me,” she said, before her mind had a chance to stop her mouth.

Then, as he plunged inside, she prayed to God that “making love” was what he was doing.

Ethan drove back to the condo with the sweet memory of Clarise’s command etched in his memory, and one main goal on his mind—finding a way to make this last. This couldn’t be a fling. He wouldn’t let it.

“
Make love to me.
” She’d said those words. Twice. And damned if they weren’t the most perfect words in the English language. Nearly. There were three others he wanted to hear from Clarise’s mouth, but that would come, as soon as he figured out how to convince this sexy lady to add commitment to her list.

“
Commitment isn’t on the list.
”

Well, if it hadn’t found its way to the list yet, Ethan was going to make damn certain it got there. Fast. Preferably before they returned to Birmingham, to reality—and to the truth he still needed to tell her about last year’s trip to Gasparilla. He swallowed thickly. No way would he think about that now.
That
might take her thoughts away from commitment completely, and everything else with Ethan. But hell, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Had he?

“I need to call Granny Gert,” she said, as they neared the condo. “She asked me to check in with her while I’m here, and I haven’t called her once.” She laughed softly. “I guess my mind has been on other things.”

“Well, I hope so, or I’ve been doing something wrong.”

“Trust me, you haven’t done anything wrong.” She stopped beside the room and glanced up at him, those big brown eyes filled with—what? Ethan couldn’t tell. There was something different about this look, something he hadn’t seen before. Excitement? No, not this time. Sexual hunger? Ethan didn’t think so, though he totally planned on satisfying that again in the very near future. He touched a fingertip to her temple, trailed it down her cheek and gently moved her hair behind her ear. She continued looking at him, and he had it. Admiration. That’s what he saw in those eyes tonight. An amazed wonder that he hadn’t “done anything wrong.” And everything right.

Ethan said a silent thanks that he’d been the lucky guy to experience this part of Clarise. Obviously, she hadn’t had a lot of guys “doing things right.” Well, that was changing now, because Ethan totally planned on continuing his pursuit of keeping this fiery, sexy woman satisfied, physically and emotionally, for as long as she’d let him.

Clarise’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she turned toward their room. Was she uncomfortable letting him know that he’d fit the bill in the accomplishing sexual fantasies task? Because her affirmation hadn’t done anything but make him want to do it again. And again. He slid the keycard in the door while Clarise reverted to the original subject of conversation. “Granny said she wanted to make sure I’m okay, but I’m betting she mainly wants to find out if I bought all the stuff on her list, or if she’ll need to come down herself to get it.”

Ethan opened the door and stepped inside. Obviously, Clarise wasn’t ready to discuss her recent admission. More than likely, she also didn’t want to discuss her word choice at the beach.
“Make love to me here.”
So Ethan wouldn’t push the issue. Yet. “Tell you what,” he started. “While you call your grandmother, I’ll call Jeff and see how things are going at the store.”

“You haven’t checked in this weekend?” Her tone of surprise hit the mark. He
hadn’t
called or checked in. Yet the store survived without him; his cell phone hadn’t rung once since his plane landed.

“Nope, I didn’t check in.” And damned if that didn’t prove a few things. One, he trusted Jeff’s business instinct enough to know his brother could efficiently run the show in his absence. And two, he’d enjoyed this trip with Clarise so much that he hadn’t thought of business at all, beyond the luncheon with employees on Saturday. During last year’s trip, he’d brought his work along and even implemented the initial concept for purchasing the Panache chain while sitting in his room and watching the parades pass by. Solo. Ethan had never been one for sex with a stranger, and he’d also never been one for sex with employees. Until this weekend. Then again, he hadn’t spent
all
of last year’s Gasparilla on his own.

Clarise crossed the room and withdrew her cell phone from the bedside table.

“Tell your grandmother I said hello, if she remembers me, that is.”

“Oh, she remembers you.”

That got his attention. “Should I ask why you seem so sure?”

She shifted from one foot to the other and looked extremely uncomfortable. Quirking her lip to the side, she finally answered. “No. You shouldn’t ask.”

Ethan winked. “You realize I may ask her why you’re so sure she remembers me, the next time I see her.”

She shrugged while she dialed. “Suit yourself.” Then within minutes, she was chatting away with her grandmother and telling her all about the pirates, the parades and the city. Funny, she didn’t seem to have any inclination to inform Granny Gert of her sex list.

Ethan smirked.

Clarise narrowed her eyes as though she knew exactly what he’d been thinking. She probably did. He pointed toward the balcony then headed outside to phone Jeff. Inhaling, he welcomed the warm humidity of Tampa at night. That thick heat had bathed Clarise’s naked body when he’d undressed her on the beach and made a January night feel like June. Dialing Jeff’s number, he considered what he’d be doing this June. The acquisition would be in full swing, Panache would undergo a fluid change to Eubanks Elegant Apparel, and he’d be with Clarise.
If
everything went the way he wanted.

“About time you called,” Jeff answered.

“What?” Ethan asked. “No hello?”

“Definitely not. I’ve got to brag to somebody, and you know how Dad can’t stand to lose. I couldn’t exactly tell him how well my campaign is going.”

Ethan grinned, not surprised one iota that Jeff already had an ad campaign in motion back home. The guy was amazing with marketing. “Your campaign?”

“Hell, yeah. And it’s a good thing your skeleton crew knows their stuff about running the show when the key players are in Tampa. I’ve worked them to death, but no one is complaining.”