I hope you had a fabulous Thanksgiving! Mine was quiet this year, but that's exactly what I needed after the hectic pace of the last couple weeks. On the plus side, I have finally finished Shredded, theRuined, which comes in January. Hope you like it :)
first in my new adult series coming in February and am about to start work on the second. Anyway, here's another sneak peek at
“Go get dressed. I’ll buy you breakfast.”
“What if I don’t want breakfast?” I sound like a sulky kid, but the truth is I don’t give a damn. I’m tired and sad and embarrassed and annoyed, all rolled into one volatile package.
“It’ll be a long day without it.”
“What makes you think I’ll go anywhere with you?”
He grins. “My charm? My wit? My generous soul?”
“And here I was thinking what I really liked was your humility.”
He laughs, and the sound warms me despite my determination to keep myself hardened against him. But the truth is, he is charming and witty, and it’s damn difficult not to respond when he is so obviously trying to get back in my good graces. No wonder he’s such a force to be reckoned with in the business world. No one can hold out against him for long.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I make my way down the hall to—surprise, surprise—get dressed. I’m beginning to think I’m destined to give this man what he wants. It’s a disconcerting thought, one I’m sure I’ll dwell exhaustively on later. For now, I’ll settle for thinking about breakfast. French toast in particular.
“I find I don’t like you thinking ill of me.” He’s followed me down the hallway and now lounges in my doorway. “I want to show you something.”
I’m rummaging in my dresser, pulling out underwear and a bra, when I glance back at him. He gets points for looking me in the eye and not staring at the scraps of blue lace in my hands. Then again, he’s probably seen more ladies’ lingerie than I have—and much sexier stuff than what I wear.
The thought depresses me a little, so I shove it away—to the same spot where I’ve buried all my other doubts and concerns about this whole Ethan-and-me thing. For someone who usually confronts life head-on, with a detailed plan in place for every eventuality, I’m becoming quite the master of avoidance.
It’s not a good realization.
“Do you really believe that you can show me something that will change my mind about what happened yesterday?”
His eyes darken to a deep midnight blue, one loaded with a tortured pain I am intimately familiar with—but which I never imagined I’d see reflected in his gaze.
Instinctively I cross to him. Lay a soft hand on his biceps and another on his cheek. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
For long seconds he doesn’t answer. Instead, he just stands there staring at me, a million different demons looking out at me from his familiar eyes. But then he blinks,shakes his head, and everything is as it was. Ethan’s smiling at me, telling me that casual clothes are just fine for our outing. Urging me into the bathroom for a quick shower.
He’s good at what he does, so good that it isn’t until I’m standing under a spray of hot water that I realize he never answered my question.