Seduced Page 4

  “Ava.”

  She fought the pull of his voice. Resisted the urgent command of it, the fierce need. No, damn it. She was weaving meanings that weren’t there. All they’d shared, all those months ago, was a kiss. After that, she’d all but told him to shove off. If anything, he was here to ask her for a reimbursement check for the birthday flowers that had filled her living room in February.

  Keep moving. Almost there.

  “Ava!”

  Long fingers, steel and flesh certainly fused together, twisted around her elbow. Inside a second, they hauled her into the props and greenery prep room. Inside another whoosh, she was pinned against the wall while the door was booted shut.

  And then her world became only him.

  Ethan, burying a hand in her hair. Ethan, sealing his lips over hers. Ethan, tangling his tongue against hers as his body, so hard and big, fitted perfectly against the apex of hers. Consuming her senses with his leathery, dark pepper scent. Filling each heartbeat with his passion. Like the mist in which he’d first done this to her, blocking everything but his force, his strength, his desire.

  So much for breathing.

  As soon as he released her, she struggled to do so anyway. Once his stare impaled her, that cobalt intensity piercing straight to her center, she flew a white flag on the effort. A million words blasted through her head. Not a single one found its way to her mouth. Her lungs and her heart crashed against each other as he slid a rough thumb over the stinging pads of her lips.

  “Hello, sunshine.”

  His murmur slunk through her body like smoke, the tendrils turning the ice into simmered drops. They pooled into the layers of her sex, soaking her panties, finally making her throat work again. A high-pitched gasp spilled from her, humiliating and liberating at once.

  Crap, crap, crap.

  “Ethan.” Why did it sound like a prayer instead of a protest? Why did he confirm the mortifying fact by letting his eyelids grow heavy, his thick lashes brushing his burnished cheeks as he observed every movement on her face and every breath on her lips? Life bustled by just three feet away, beyond the door, but his focus made her feel like they’d jumped to another planet.

  “It wasn’t a dream.” His whisper fanned her face. “Was it?” He swept his thumb beneath her chin to tug her face up, pulling her deeper into his hold, his presence. “Tell me,” he charged, capturing one of her wrists beneath his other hand, flattening it to the wall. “I want to hear you say it, damn it.”

  A sigh clamored up her throat. “No,” she finally relented. “It wasn’t. It…” It was wonderful. And I’ve thought about it every day since. I’ve thought about you every day…

  Though she confined the words to thoughts, she couldn’t keep them from playing across her face. As they did, his eyes dilated and his lips parted. With a harsh grunt that made her vagina clench, he bore down on her with another kiss. His lips demanded more now, taking every corner of her mouth, every ounce of her passion, every drop of her obeisance. She was helpless to give him anything less. She was in sheer heaven because of it.

  She was in deep trouble.

  She knew it even before the door to the room opened again—but even more so as soon as it did. Ethan tore his mouth from hers while a man as big as him strode in, sporting a dark skull-crop cut and a smile that descended into a gawk. “Runway?” He took in their positions, with their crotches locked and Ethan’s hand bolting hers to the wall, and clearly filled in the blanks for himself.

  Ethan gave a curt nod. “Captain.”

  “Captain?”

  Ava answered herself with a groan. Of course. She’d seen the man at Sage and Garrett’s wedding, albeit briefly and without his full clothes on. He’d barged into the ceremony in a T-shirt and shorts, having been drugged and then abandoned in Vegas as part of the plan for the bastard who’d nearly recaptured Rayna into white slavery that day.

  “Hi.” The man swung his gaze at her.

  “Uh…hi.”

  “Ava.” Ethan directed her name toward his captain, though his tone was more explanatory than introductory. The next moment, she saw why.

  “Ohhh,” the guy exclaimed. “That Ava?”

  Ethan nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Wow. Ava.”

  “Ava?” The outburst came from Charlie this time. He rounded the door with a scowl, but after his own inspection of her and Ethan, he joined Ethan’s captain on the lascivious grin duties.

  Hell.

  She squirmed against Ethan’s hold. “Charlie—”

  “Franz?” The game of musical names was taken up by Zeke, who stepped into the room with Garrett and a couple more guys from the team. “And look! Ava!”

  “What?” The jolt of her cousin’s joy filled the air. “Where? Oh, my God, Ava!” Rayna surged in but stopped short, repeating Charlie’s assessment. “Oh, my God. Um…Ava.”

  Ava sent a pleading gaze toward the ceiling. The next person who stammered her name was going to get a knee to their gut.

  “Ava?”

  The distinct stress on the second syllable was only ever used by one person. Because of course, fate had decided to make her its bitch today.

  “Ava?”

  Bella stepped fully into the room. She tossed a dismissive glance at Charlie and the battalion boys before sweeping her attention toward the wall where Ethan still had her pinned.

  “Mierda.” The groan surged from the depths of Ava’s stomach. With a couple of urgent jerks, she wrenched away from Ethan. “Bella, listen, I can ex—”

  “Ethan?”

  Normally Bella’s interruption would be situation normal. In this case, it would’ve even been a relief—except for the name the woman had picked for her interjection. And the smile, broad and enthralled, she tagged onto it. That look had charmed fans, journalists, and critics across a shitload of demographics in eight countries. In short, her I-want-you-in-the-palm-of-my-hand-now smile.

  “Huh?” Ethan blurted it more like a chore than a word. Whether she wanted to let it go or not, Ava gave him another snippet of her heart in that moment. He was still genuinely impervious to most of the mob in the room, with his stare still transfixed on her.

  Bella stunned them both by stepping forward and shoving his jacket and T-shirt nearly all the way off his left shoulder. In doing so, she exposed the silvered line of a nasty scar that bridged his collarbone.

  “Oh shit,” Ava blurted.

  “What the…” Ethan uttered. “How did you know about—”

  “Ethan!” Bella cried again. “Oh, my God, it is you!”

  Ethan looked from the scar to Bella. His brows hunkered as his gaze sharpened. “Brenda?” he mumbled. “Brenda Lanzani?”

  “Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

  As Bella topped that with a long squee, Ava glanced to Charlie. They mouthed the same words to each other. What the hell?

  “Ohhh, Ethan!” The woman’s breathy elation got worse. “I can’t believe it!”

  Ava’s gut sounded with a dozen alarms. But she didn’t defend her heart in time. A chunk of it got hacked off and got wedged in her throat while watching the star’s weirdness morph into a full Bella Blitz on Ethan. No, that wasn’t right. “Blitz” implied that the target didn’t have a clue. Ethan was not clueless. As Bella pressed herself against the man, she did so with the confidence of a woman who’d been in his arms before. He braced his hands to her waist with the same familiarity. And as she tilted her lips up, catching his at the perfect angle for a full-press kiss, it was clear the woman had been in that territory, too. Lots of times.

  Damn it.

  Chapter Three

  What. The. Fuck?

  It set a good tempo for the thoughts going balls-for-batshit at each other through Ethan’s brain. This wasn’t how he envisioned the day, or even the hour, playing out.

  Three minutes ago, he’d been kissing the woman of his fantasies. Now he was locking lips with the ex of his nightmares—or at least that was who the creature claimed to be. Two minutes ago,
he was plotting how to keep the door to this room locked so he could seal the deal on Ava never ignoring him again. Now, he couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here.

  And one minute ago, he’d thanked the Creator for finally smiling on him. For the first time in seven months, not a shred of ugliness had crawled into his waking mind. No picking through the resistance of some drug dealer or terrorist, no dissecting some asshole’s body language to detect signs the guy was lying, cheating, high, or just stupid. For once, he’d gotten to let the suspicions down and bask in something pure. Something good. Something exactly what it was supposed to be. Passion. Warmth. Sunshine.

  What the hell had happened?

  With a growl, he grabbed the wrists Brenda had thrown around his neck, using the leverage to thrust her back. Franzen was still in the room, so he didn’t do anything more than plant the woman a step away. “It’s…uh…been a while, Bren,” he stammered. “You look…really different.”

  Somebody was dialing the understatement cops for that one. Brenda’s face, which still possessed the same brilliant bronze eyes but had been topographically changed in every other way, quirked in what seemed a soft smile. He couldn’t be sure. She didn’t smile the same way. Her teeth were bigger, her chin was smaller, her nose was shorter, and her cheeks were higher.

  “Thank you, babe,” she said smoothly, “but you know it’s not Brenda anymore, right?”

  So much for sweeping tension out of the way. The second she said babe, he watched every vertebra in Ava’s spine go tight. Not acceptable.

  “Hmm. Sounds cool. So I’ll drop the Brenda and you drop the babe, and we’ll be squared up, all right?”

  He looked up in time to catch a meaningful glance fly between Ava and Charlie Jenkow. They were obviously friends. That explained the subtle once-over he’d gotten from the guy when they’d arrived. Looked like his bluntness to Brenda, or whatever the hell she was calling herself these days, had earned Jenkow’s approval. It clearly didn’t sit so well with Brenda, who tipped another weird smile.

  “Uh…right,” she finally replied. “Though you do know what everyone calls me now, yes?”

  A long silence took over the room. He was clearly supposed to confirm that, but the words would be a lie. He was officially lost here. Forcing his gaze away from Bella, Ethan locked a gaze onto Charlie, openly bumming some help off the guy.

  Thankfully, Charlie believed in the friend-of-a-friend honor system. With a convincing facepalm, the man stepped forward and exclaimed, “For the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary. Where did my manners go?” Charlie lifted Brenda’s hand with a gallant sweep. “Gentlemen, though I’m certain most of you are familiar with this icon, I’d like to officially introduce Miss Bella Lanza, the star of Dress Blues.”

  This time, Ethan didn’t have to fake his reaction. His grin was genuine. “Wow. Star, huh?” He looked over the expensive details she rocked besides the plastic surgery, from the diamonds on her manicured fingers and the trendy shoes on her elegant feet, and couldn’t believe this was the cute theater major with whom he’d shared Friday night pizza and bike rides across the Stanford campus. “You’re really all grown up,” he murmured. “Good for you, Bren—” He borrowed the facepalm move from Charlie. “Shit. Sorry. Bella.”

  The woman giggled. “It’s all right. And understandable. Memories aren’t simple to shirk, especially ones like ours.”

  She finished by winding a hand around his forearm. Ethan let his brain report to the office of Officially Uncomfortable. He didn’t miss how Bella’s claim, in verbal and physical form, made Ava’s tension expand up her spine, working into her tight lips and aching eyes. He hated this. Every second. Goddamnit, if he could only order everyone out of here and get Ava back against the wall, back to where nothing or nobody mattered, back to that connection he’d waited seven fucking months to have again.

  “Hmm.” The interjection came from an openly smirking Tait. “Unshirked memories. Shit, Archer. That sounds like a lot of interesting bribery material to me.”

  Kellan added a knowing lift of brows. “It’d come in handy, now that he’s a big bad sarge and all.”

  Bella’s stare, as intense as her grip, got more penetrating. “Sarge? As in sergeant?”

  “Newly minted, ma’am,” Franzen offered. “Gave him his new stripe after we finished a dick-whopper—err, a difficult mission—down in Mexico. Figured we’d make this little side trip as part of the celebration.”

  Another potent silence passed. Bella maintained her unyielding attention. And her damn C-clamp of a hold. She finally murmured, “You’re one of the Special Forces visitors.”

  He flashed a lopsided smile. “Would appear that way, Miss Lanza.”

  Bella’s eyes turned the color of brown sugar. The warmth flowed into the rest of her surgically perfect features. “Looks like you’re really all grown up too,” she replied. “You did it, babe.”

  Fuck. There it was again. But could he ream her for using the old endearment when he identified the awkwardness she masked with it? His decision to join up with the big green machine had been the beginning of the end for them. Wasn’t like he was subtle about dealing the blow, either. He’d dropped it into the middle of a halfway pleasant date toward the end of their first year in college, even making Brenda—Bella—laugh at him, thinking for once he was pulling a bad joke. But he’d never been good at joking, and she couldn’t see why he’d throw away the corner office at Dad’s company, already reserved for him, along with the cushy starting salary and his choice of Jag, Beemer, or Mercedes as a signing bonus. Poor Bella had been stunned to the brink of tears, especially because he hadn’t tried very hard to explain himself. What would’ve been the point? She thought of her freedoms as part of life’s path, not treasures that had to be honored and defended.

  Her outrage had been shared by most of the world. His Stanford advisor labeled the decision “reckless and irresponsible.” A blunter assessment came from his frat drinking buddies—their term was “stupid as shit pie.” Mom hadn’t used any words. She just chose to disappear into her greenhouse for four days. Shockingly, the worst reaction he’d expected had never come. Dad’s support, and best of all his understanding, had made it possible to grab at the army’s big brass ring. The Special Forces needed good men, and he’d set his sights on becoming one of them.

  He concluded that thought out loud. “Fate smiled,” he murmured. “Yeah, I really did it.”

  Behind him, Tait’s laugh tickled the air. “Doing it’s never been a problem for you, Runway.”

  “’S long as it’s with his palm and fingers,” cracked Kell.

  “Gentlemen,” Franzen growled, “we aren’t on Uncle Sam’s clock right now, but keep it up and I’ll make you hate your sorry life when we are again.”

  “Roger that, Captain.”

  Tait’s respectful reply still shook with humor. Ethan didn’t care. He almost turned and thanked the ninjas for the interjection since it forced Bella to take her hand off his arm to cover her giggling mouth.

  “All right,” she finally declared, “I can tell that a silly little set tour isn’t going to be enough time with all of you. You’re all officially invited to my place for dinner tonight. We have a short shooting schedule today, and my chef should be able to do something casual. Do you all like lobster, shrimp, and bruschetta?”

  Zeke chuckled again. “Honey, does a Wookiee like Cortyg brandy?”

  Bella frowned. “Huh?”

  “Star Wars geek,” Rayna explained. She shook her head and then stood on tiptoe to kiss Z’s jaw. “Nothing an Indiana Jones marathon won’t fix.”

  “In your dreams.” His countering mutter was thick with affection.

  Franzen saved them all from the couple turning their smoochy moment into a puke-inducing PDA by stepping forward with his hands spread. “Miss Lanza, your invitation is kind but unnecessary. We’re not nitpicky Hollywood eaters. We’re soldiers with the manners of hyenas and the appetites of elephants. And this isn’t even all o
f us. Corporals Lange and Stafford are still lurking around here somewhere, and—”

  “Captain.” Bella pivoted at him, showing off the same determination she once used to get into closed classes and private frat parties. “I have a five-thousand-square-foot villa that’s tailor-made for entertaining, which I don’t do enough of, especially when the crowd isn’t a bunch of stuffy Hollywood eaters.”

  “Look, the offer’s sweet, but—”

  “It’s on the sand in Malibu.”

  Franzen choked his next words into silence.

  Hawkins laughed and spoke for him instead. “What time do you want us there?”

  It hadn’t escaped Ethan’s attention that Ava’s posture had gone stiff again. When Bella turned to Franzen, he focused all his attention on grabbing Ava’s, but the woman kept riveted on Bella like a goddamn lady-in-waiting for Anne Boleyn herself. He was certain she’d filed him back into the ignore-and-he’ll-go-away category.

  Think again, sunshine.

  The queen herself helped him out with that resolve. Bella turned back, twisting more screws of tension down Ava’s spine. If Ethan was a betting man, he’d lay sure odds on what would go down next.

  “Ava darling, I won’t need anything here for the rest of the day besides a few powder touchups, and Faye can handle that. Can you be a love and supervise preparations at the house?”

  Yep. Fucking shame that Vegas was just an hour away by plane. He could’ve just made a mint.

  Ava squared her shoulders and stated, “Bella, I don’t think I’m the right—” She huffed when Bella’s eyes narrowed and conceded, “Fine. Sure.”

  Bella’s smile was a sweep of practiced goo. “You are such a champ.”

  Ethan recognized an opportunity when it hit. He scooted forward, smiling carefully. “Sounds like it’s going to be a lot of logistics and shit. I can go along to help.”

  “No.” Ava’s rebuttal was fierce. “That won’t be necessary, Sergeant.”

  She tried to push past him. Ethan didn’t move. “It’s no trouble.” He grinned down at her. “Really.”