Page 18

Mel

It was hours later when I finally lowered my brush. I’d been so caught up in painting, I’d missed the small cream-colored note card that peeked out from beneath the box the supplies had arrived in.

Setting my brush down, I reached for it.

You are an artist who deserves her own canvas. —Ethan

My breath caught. Ethan. Not Nova. Not anyone from the tour team who’d known me for months or even years.

Ethan Cross had done this.

Something cracked open inside me—a flood of emotions I couldn’t contain. The care behind this gesture was overwhelming. He’d seen me. Actually seen me. Not as Nova’s manager or sister, but as my own person with dreams and needs that mattered.

I traced my fingers over his handwriting. How many people in my life had ever noticed what I needed? My mother—loving but laser-focused—had poured everything into Nova’s talent. I’d learned early to make myself smaller, to accommodate Nova’s expanding world. To be the responsible one, the problem-solver, the support system.

Yet here was tangible proof that Ethan had paid attention. Had noticed me painting in those rare stolen moments. Had understood what it meant to me.

I stood abruptly, needing to find him. To thank him. My painting would wait.

After a quick change into clean clothes and washing the paint from my hands, I headed out. The hallway was quiet. Most of Nova’s entourage would be celebrating another successful show, but I knew where to find at least one of Ethan’s team.

Logan was positioned near the elevator bank, professional and alert despite the late hour.

“Logan, is Ethan still up?” I asked.

He nodded. “Command center on the mezzanine level. We converted one of the conference rooms.”

“Thanks.”

The elevator ride down was brief, my heart racing with anticipation. What would I say? How could I possibly convey what his thoughtfulness meant to me?

The makeshift command center door was slightly ajar. Through the gap, I could see Ethan sitting alone, surrounded by the blue glow of multiple laptop screens. His shoulders were set in that familiar vigilant posture, eyes scanning each display with methodical precision.

I knocked softly .

He turned, his expression warming immediately when he saw me. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I hovered in the doorway. “Is this a bad time? I can come back if you’re too busy.”

“Never too busy for you.” He reached for his comms unit. “Jace, take over monitoring remotely for a bit?”

A disembodied voice crackled through. “Copy that. Switching to remote observation now.”

Ethan gestured me in. “Everything okay?”

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. The room was cool, businesslike—except for the way Ethan looked at me, which was anything but.

“I found your gift.” My voice was surprisingly steady despite the emotions churning inside me. “The paints, the easel…everything.”

His eyes searched mine. “You like them?”

“Like them?” I moved closer, drawn to him like gravity. “Ethan, it’s the most thoughtful thing anyone’s done for me in… I can’t even remember.”

He shrugged, but the tension in his shoulders belied the casual gesture. “I noticed you haven’t been able to paint since the tour started. I know it’s your stress relief. I thought it might help to have a set that could travel with you.”

“It’s more than that.” I perched on the edge of the desk beside him. “You saw me . Do you know how rare that is?”

His eyes darkened, fixed on mine. “I see you all the time, Mel.”

Neither of us was talking about our eyes. I was glad he understood.

“I know you do. That’s what makes it so…” I struggled to find the words. “But now I’m wondering… Maybe this was your way of telling me you weren’t interested in pursuing anything beyond our professional relationship. A kind gesture before backing away. If that’s the case, that’s fine. I?— ”

His hand shot out, catching mine. “Is that really what you think?”

The heat of his palm against mine sent electricity up my arm. “I don’t know what to think. You kissed me that night, and then nothing. I thought maybe you’d changed your mind?—”

“Changed my mind?” He shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping him. “Mel, it’s taking every ounce of willpower I have to keep my hands off you. Every. Single. Day.”

My pulse quickened. “Then why?—”

“Because I’m trying to be professional.” He traced circles on my wrist with his thumb. “Because we’re in the middle of a tour with real threats. Because you deserve better than stolen moments between security checks.”

The raw honesty in his voice stripped away my doubts. I slid off the desk and toward him, my body making the decision my mind was still processing.

“What if I want those stolen moments?” I moved closer, until I stood between his knees. “What if they’re exactly what I need?”

His eyes, dark and intense, never left mine. “Mel?—”

“I’m tired of putting my life on hold while I manage everyone else’s. I’m tired of being responsible and practical.” I placed my hands on his shoulders, feeling the solid strength beneath my fingertips. “For once, I want something for myself. And what I want is you .”

Something snapped in his expression. With startling swiftness, he pulled me onto his lap, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that burned away any remaining hesitation.

This was nothing like our first kiss, which had been tentative, exploring. This was hunger unleashed. He tangled his hands in my hair, angling my head to deepen the connection. I melted against him, meeting his intensity with my own.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmured against my lips, “ how hard it’s been watching you every day and not being able to touch you?”

I shifted on his lap, feeling the hard evidence of his desire beneath me. “I think I’m getting a pretty good idea.”

He groaned, sliding his hands down to grip my hips. “Being near you and keeping my distance is the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a long fucking time.”

“Then stop.” I rolled my hips deliberately against him, drawing another groan. “Stop keeping your distance.”

His control fractured visibly. His fingers dug into my hips, and he captured my mouth again, his tongue sliding against mine in a preview of what I desperately wanted. I hadn’t expected this raw, primal need, but God, it felt good to be wanted so fiercely.

One of his hands slid beneath my blouse, his palm hot against my skin. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“Don’t you dare.” I arched into his touch. “Don’t stop.”

His mouth moved to my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin as his hand traveled higher, cupping my breast through my bra. Every touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing through me. I whimpered when his thumb brushed over my nipple, the thin fabric a maddening barrier.

“I want to touch you,” he whispered against my throat. “Everywhere.”

“Yes,” I gasped, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of my blouse. “Please…”

He helped me, careful despite the urgency in his movements. The blouse fell open, and his eyes darkened further at the sight of my simple cotton bra.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the swell of my breast.

I trembled under his touch, aching for more. He slid his hand around to unclasp my bra, and I shrugged out of it, suddenly shy despite my boldness moments ago .

His expression silenced my insecurities. Pure appreciation, desire, and something deeper filled his eyes as he took me in.

“Perfect,” he whispered, cupping me reverently before lowering his head.

The first touch of his mouth on my bare skin tore a gasp from my throat. Heat bloomed everywhere—his lips, his tongue, the rasp of stubble against sensitive flesh. I clutched his shoulders, my head falling back as pleasure spiraled through me.

His hands were everywhere, learning my body with the same meticulous attention he gave everything else. Each caress unraveled me further, building a desperate need I’d never experienced before.

“Ethan,” I breathed, rocking against him. “I want…”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” His voice was rough, strained. “Tell me.”

“You,” I answered simply. “All of you.”

He groaned, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. “I don’t have protection with me.”

“I—” The realization hit me that I didn’t either. I hadn’t been with anyone in so long, hadn’t expected this to happen tonight.

He lifted his head, his smile wicked despite the frustration in his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good.”

Before I could process his meaning, he was shifting me, standing with his hands at my waist. “Lock the door.”

I stumbled to the door on unsteady legs, clicking the lock into place. When I turned back, Ethan had cleared one of the monitors aside, creating space on the desk.

“Come here,” he commanded softly.

I crossed to him, my body thrumming with anticipation. He lifted me easily, setting me on the edge of the desk.

“Lean back,” he instructed, his fingers already working at the button of my jeans .

I complied, breath catching as he tugged my jeans down my legs, leaving me in just my underwear. The cool air against my heated skin made me shiver—or perhaps it was the way he looked at me, like I was the most desirable woman he’d ever seen.

“These too,” he murmured, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. “Lift up.”

I raised my hips, allowing him to slide the last barrier down my legs. Naked from the waist down, sitting on a desk in what was essentially a security office, I should have felt vulnerable, exposed.

Instead, I felt powerful. Wanted. Seen.

Ethan dropped to his knees before me, his hands sliding up my thighs.

“I’ve been thinking about tasting you since that kiss,” he confessed, his breath warm against my inner thigh. “Dreaming about it.”

My heart thundered in my chest. “Ethan?—”

His mouth found me, and words dissolved into a gasp of pleasure. The first delicate sweep of his tongue nearly undid me. I clutched the edge of the desk with my fingers, white-knuckled as he explored with devastating precision.

He knew exactly what he was doing—alternating between gentle licks and firm pressure, his hands holding my thighs apart as I trembled. Each stroke of his tongue built the tension coiling inside me, higher and tighter.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he murmured against me, the vibration of his voice sending new sparks of pleasure up my spine.

I couldn’t respond. Could barely breathe. My world had narrowed to the hot, wet slide of his mouth, the pressure of his fingers digging into my thighs, the exquisite tension building within me .

He slid one hand higher, fingers teasing at my entrance before slowly pressing inside. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers working in tandem shattered what little control I had left.

“Ethan,” I gasped, one hand leaving the desk to tangle in his hair. “I— I—” I couldn’t get the words out.

He hummed his approval, doubling his efforts. The vibration sent me hurtling over the edge, pleasure crashing through me in waves. I bit my lip to stifle my cry, my body arching as the orgasm rippled through me.

He stayed with me through it, gentling his touch as the aftershocks subsided, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs as I caught my breath.

When I could focus again, I found him watching me with unmistakable heat and tenderness. He stood, helping me sit up, his hands steady at my waist.

“That was…” Words failed me.

He smiled, brushing hair away from my flushed face. “Yeah.”

I reached for him, fingers tracing the obvious hardness straining against his pants. “Your turn.”

His breath hitched, but he caught my hand. “Later.”

“But—”

“Believe me, I want nothing more.” He pressed a kiss to my palm. “But I don’t want to rush this. Next time, I want a proper bed. Time to do this right.”

Despite the lingering haze of pleasure, desire stirred again at his words. “My room has a very nice bed,” I suggested, voice husky. “And I’m pretty sure we could find what we need in the hotel gift shop.”

The heat in his eyes intensified. “You head up. As soon as my shift ends, which is in twenty minutes, I’ll be there with?—”

His comms unit crackled to life, Jace’s voice cutting through the moment. “Boss, we’ve got movement on Nova’s floor. Security system shows unauthorized access to the restricted elevator.”

Ethan’s entire demeanor shifted instantly. The lover vanished, replaced by the security expert. His expression hardened, eyes sharpening with alert focus.

“Details,” he demanded, already moving to the monitors.

“Three individuals, two males and a female, exited the service elevator on Nova’s floor. Not wearing hotel uniforms or badges. Moving toward the east wing.”

Ethan was pulling on his tactical gear, checking his weapon with practiced efficiency. “On my way. Alert the team. Full lockdown protocol.”

I scrambled to dress, fingers clumsy with the lingering effects of pleasure and the new rush of adrenaline. “Nova?—”

“Ty’s stationed outside her suite,” Ethan assured me, his voice calm but urgent. “She’s covered.” He studied the monitors for another moment.

“Stay here,” he instructed. “Lock the door behind me. I’ll send someone to escort you to your room.”

He pressed a quick, hard kiss to my lips. “To be continued,” he promised against my mouth.

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

I sank into his vacated chair, legs still boneless from the most intense orgasm of my life, mind reeling from the whiplash of passion to panic.

The monitors glowed in the dimly lit room, a cruel reminder of reality. This was our life—stolen moments of connection, interrupted by danger and duty. As long as Nova was being threatened, as long as I remained tethered to her world, there would be no simple path forward for Ethan and me.

Yet despite the complications, despite the fear now churning in my stomach, I couldn’t regret what had just happened between us. For those precious minutes, I hadn’t been Nova’s sister or manager. I’d been a woman, desired and valued for myself alone.

Ethan had given me two incredible gifts tonight—the paints that acknowledged my passion, and the pleasure that honored my needs. Both said the same thing:

I see you, Mel Rivers. I see you, and you matter.