The Dare Collection: May 2018. Clare Connelly
so eloquently,’ I mumble.
His laugh is short. ‘Well, you do.’
‘There’s danger in this,’ I say seriously, softly, pulling him back to the heart of my worries. ‘Danger for me.’
His eyes throb with mine. He is reading me. Studying me. Analysing me. I keep my expression blank of emotion with an enormous effort.
‘Who hurt you?’
The question knocks me sideways. I drop his hand and take a step backwards.
‘No one.’
I move towards the window. I’m awkward. My body is hot and cold.
‘Who hurt you?’
‘No one.’ I say it more emphatically now. ‘You think that the only reason a person can not want to be in a relationship with you is that she’s running from a past trauma, or something? Talk about egomaniacal.’
The charge is completely unreasonable—particularly given that he’s right.
‘I think there’s more to this than you’re telling me,’ he insists quietly.
My eyes lift to his in the reflection of the window. There is strength in his stance and I feel it push against me. I suck in a breath; it barely reaches my lungs.
‘So?’ I’m on the defensive. I make a point to lower my voice. ‘Have you told me everything about you and Sienna?’
I see his frown in the reflection. ‘No.’
‘But you think I should be an open book to you?’
‘Hey.’
He walks behind me slowly, but his hands on my shoulders are firm. Demanding. He turns me around, then presses his thumb beneath my chin, holding my face towards his.
‘You’re the one who’s acting like I’ve just fucking proposed. Why?’
‘I’m not.’ I bite down on my lip and jerk away from him. ‘I just don’t want you to go shifting the goalposts.’
I sink my teeth into my lip harder. His eyes drop to the gesture.
My heart twists painfully. Far worse than his desire to negotiate our...whatever this is...is his quick acceptance of my position. I know it’s for the best, but it hurts that he doesn’t fight harder.
What am I wanting? Him to prove that he wants more from me than I’m willing to give? What kind of emotional sadist am I becoming?
‘So, a concert, huh?’ I say, the words so over-bright they are brittle, like wood that’s been left in the sun for days on end. Paint peels away my confidence. ‘You nervous?’
His own smile is dismissive, distracted. ‘No. It’s not my first time.’
‘No, of course.’
We’re on safer ground, and I’m grateful, but the awkwardness of our conversation is still between us, lumpy and insistent. I hate it. I hate it that we’ve argued. I hate it that he probably thinks I’m either completely crazy or completely weird.
‘You’ve been doing this a long time, I guess?’
He sighs. Wearily.
Weary of me?
Warning bells flash.
I’m messing everything up.
Isn’t that the point? Isn’t that why I’m fighting to keep my emotions out of this?
‘Yeah.’
I sidestep his touch. Our intimacy is gone. We’re just two strangers in a cold room full of misunderstanding. My dress is by the door. I move towards it on legs that are shaking, lift it up with the tips of my fingers and pull it on. When I turn around he’s watching me, with that same look of confusion on his handsome face.
God, he deserves better than this.
I swallow, looking towards the window, uneasy and uncertain.
‘You’re not wrong.’
The words are so soft they’re almost a whisper; I don’t even realise I’m going to say them until I hear the way they float across the room towards him.
‘About what?’
I clear my throat. ‘Before you, I hadn’t... It had been a while since I’d been with anyone else.’
‘But there was someone important before me?’ he prompts.
I nod, my eyes locking to his, showing the depth of my emotion and the ache of my pain. ‘Yes.’
‘And it didn’t work out?’
He says it gently, like teasing a knot out of a rope.
I shake my head and those stupid, stupid tears are back, hot in my eyes. I blink furiously, wiping them away without touching my face.
‘What happened?’
He asks the question with such kindness that I think I could collapse.
I don’t.
I’m not going to be weakened by Jeremy any more. I’m stronger now. Stronger than when I first met him and I believed in fairy tales and happily-ever-after and soulmates. What a load of nonsense.
Ethan takes my silence for an unwillingness to discuss it.
‘Look...’ He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. ‘You don’t have to talk about it. But don’t run away from me, Alicia. Just...stay and have more fun.’
My body jerks at the prospect. It’s what I need and want. More than anything.
‘Why don’t you have a bath? Relax. I’ll call you when dinner gets here.’
He’s being so kind and it’s hurting my heart to experience that, knowing the limitations of what we are.
I nod, though, and move towards the enormous bathroom before he can see the emotions on my face. And before I can make sense of them.
Because they’re scaring me half to death.
* * *
We have devoured almost the whole tray of room service food. Despite the fact I said I wasn’t hungry, it turns out that incredible, mind-blowing, multiple orgasm sex is enough to give anyone an appetite.
‘Things with me and Sienna hadn’t been working for a long time...’
I am torn. Morbid curiosity is at the forefront of my mind, but so too is the knowledge that this discussion is dangerous.
‘Why not?’
Curiosity, apparently, wins.
He reaches for a chip and eats it thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know.’ His smile is disarming. ‘Maybe we were never right together. But, man, we hated each other by the end. Still, for her to be engaged to someone else months later...’
I wince at his description and again I think of Jeremy. Of that afternoon.
‘Is this what you do? You farm me off to my mother’s, with our kids, so you can screw her?’
‘Come on, Fiona! Why wouldn’t I be fucking around behind your back? You’re as cold as ice and I’m bored. We never see each other any more. I don’t remember the last time we actually fucked.’
The memory makes my heart hurt.
‘I guess relationships change. People change. Love is complicated,’ I say with a shrug. ‘Do you know the guy?’
‘Tom Banks?’ He grimaces. ‘Yeah.’
‘That’s so much worse,’ I say softly. ‘Do you like him?’
Ethan shrugs. ‘The