“Depends…Are you trying to have sex with me? In my treehouse?”
“No,” he whispered. “I’m trying to make love to you…Unless you just want to cuddle. I’m sure that’d be really enjoyable too…What do you want to do?”
I awoke to Ethan planting kisses on my face and running his fingers through my hair. It was still storming outside, but the rain was down to a steady patter and the thunder was a soft rumble.
“Good morning beautiful,” he looked into my eyes. “Are you feeling okay?”
I gave a slight nod.
I couldn’t do much else. My body was in a state of shock and I could still feel the after effects of last night.
I finally realized it was true: There was a huge difference between “making love” and “having sex,” and after being with Ethan, I didn’t want to “have sex” ever again.
“Are you going to say something to me?” he smiled. “Anything?”
I shook my head.
He laughed and pulled me into his arms. He kissed me again and again, and told me how happy he was that he’d met me.
We lay gazing at each other for what felt like forever, ignoring the distorted rings of our cell phones.
I didn’t want the moment to ever end.
Ethan took one more look at me and kissed me before closing his eyes. When I was sure he was sleeping, I reached over and touched his face, delicately dragging my fingers across his lips.
“I think I could hang out with you for the rest of my life…”
His eyes fluttered open and he raised his eyebrow.
I gasped. “I’m sorry, I thought you were sleeping...I’m not trying to imply what you might think—I’m not saying… I know we haven’t known each other that long but…Well, I feel really close to you and...I guess I’m just saying that last night was incredible and I’d love to do that again…And umm I really enjoy spending time with you every day and—”
He stopped my babbling with a soft and passionate kiss. “I feel the same way about you.”
Chapter 22
Ethan
My feelings were uncontrollable—I couldn’t even pretend like I had power over them. My heart seemed to beat faster every time Selena was around me, and as hard as I tried to stay focused on other things throughout the day, she managed to slip into my mind.
We made love every day, over and over—in her tree-house, in her hotel suite, in my car, and in the small town’s movie theater. Yet, the more intimate she and I became, the guiltier I felt.
One night while we were in bed, she began to cry about Sweet Seasons, telling me that all the publicity her mother had done—two segments on the local news, a week’s worth of articles in the Fayetteville Observer, and a rally that even the mayor attended, had fallen flat.
She told me she hated Autumn Wonder for hurting her mother. She said she couldn’t understand why they would blatantly steal the heritage coffee and signature pies. She promised she would never give them a dime of her money again, and that she would only frequent the family owned coffee shops (and Starbucks once a week “out of spite”) when she returned to New York.
She’d finally agreed to watch The Godfather with me for the first time—provided I sit through two more romantic comedies right after, and I knew exactly where I wanted to pause the DVD and admit that I was the CEO of Autumn Wonder. I knew exactly how I wanted to say it, how I wanted to apologize, and how I wanted to ask if there was anything I could do to make things right for her and her mother.
Selena jumped into my arms and kissed me before letting me inside her suite, “Hey Ethan.”
“Good to see you too,” I kissed her back and put her down. “Are you ready to watch the greatest movie ever?” I handed her the DVD. “The movie that is all movies?”
“No,” she rolled her eyes.
“Well, too bad. You promised. I have something for you to open after dinner.”
I set a brown box on the table and she ran her hands across it.
She wasn’t wearing anything but a towel, and she didn’t seem like she had any interest in changing into something else.
“Why do I have to open it after dinner?”
I swear she questions EVERYTHING…
“Because I said so.”
She bit her lip. “Okay. After dinner.”
I followed her over to the couch and she pressed play on her DVD player. She handed me a plate of pasta and I couldn’t help but notice that her towel had moved lower and her br**sts were showing.
“You want to move that towel back over your body or go put on some clothes so we can actually concentrate on the movie?”
“No,” she moved it down even further.
“Selena, you’re not being fair…You promised.”
“How am I not being fair? I pressed play. Isn’t the movie playing?”
“You know what I mean. Put that towel back on.”
“That towel?” she threw it over the TV.
I set down my pasta and tried not to laugh. I walked over to the TV to remove the towel and—she was standing right in front of me when I turned around.
Forget the movie…