Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 (24 page)

In her recent shopping trip, she’d purchased the barely there bra, its cups cradling the lower half of her mounds and providing even more of a surplus of cleavage than usual. Ethan ran a fingertip across the lace edge and pressed gently against the swells. “Nice.”

Her nipples were on fire now, begging for that touch to move a fraction lower. Then with one deft flick of his fingers, he unclasped the front closure. Her breasts spilled out freely, and he growled appreciation at the sight.

“Look at you, Clarise.”

She did, and swallowed. The round tips of her breasts were a shade darker than normal, undoubtedly owing to her intense arousal. They were almost a cinnamon color, in contrast to her white skin, and her nipples were hard points hovering from within his palms, which cupped her breasts fully. “Oh, my,” she whispered.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Clarise watched him run his thumbs across the peaks, then pinch them while she pushed against his erection and burned to feel it inside. He released her breasts and straightened behind her. She licked her lips, so anxious, so ready.

Ethan unfastened his jeans, pushed down the zipper . . .

And the elevator buzzed to life.

“Ohmigod,” she gasped, a surge of adrenaline-based panic rushing through her. Getting caught sure hadn’t been on her list. “Ohmigod.”

But Ethan simply leaned over and slammed the button once more. “Guess that’s how long we have before it buzzes again.”

“You mean we’re going to—we’re
not
going to stop?” She looked up, then giggled when she realized she hadn’t released her death grip from the rail, hadn’t made an effort at all to cover her bare behind. What if the doors had opened? If they had, there’d for sure have been a full moon in Tampa tonight.

“Stop? Before we fulfill your fantasy? Not a chance.” He shifted behind her, and she listened to the telltale rip of foil.

“You’re everything I thought you’d be,” she said, then wondered if that wasn’t laying things out there a little bit strong. No matter; she didn’t care. That’s how she felt. It wasn’t as though she told him she wanted to birth his children, in any case. Although she did.

His hands moved forward to cup her breasts once more, and he began a slow, thorough massage, filling his palms with the surplus, then easing forward to once again pinch her excited nipples.

“Ooooh, yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes as her womanhood flexed in direct result to his sweet torture.

“Clarise?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Open your eyes.”

For the past three years, she’d wanted to see Ethan Eubanks making love to her, and now that it was happening, she still acted as though it were a dream. She would’ve laughed, but upon opening her eyes, she saw nothing funny. And everything exhilarating. His big, tan hands were a stark contrast to the full, bulging breasts.

“Watch,” he instructed, taking a thumb and forefinger to each nipple and rolling them until they plumped, and her core begged for release.

“I can’t wait, Ethan. I swear I can’t.”

His palms slid down her sides, over her bunched skirt, then to the front of her thighs. Gently he spread them wider, and he lowered his body so his erection nudged her center.

“You said I’m everything you thought I’d be, right?” he asked, while the pads of his thumbs started a maddening assault on her clitoris.

Clarise nodded, incapable of speech. His thumbs moved quicker, pulsing and pushing until she couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I’m going to—I’m about to—”

“That’s right, baby. Come for me. And, in case you’re wondering, you aren’t everything I thought you’d be either.”

Her mind struggled to process his words, while her body soared to get there. Just a little more. She was so close.

She wasn’t what he’d thought?

His strokes got even quicker, even more potent, and her body responded wildly. Pressure mounting, building, pushing her forward.

But what did he mean?

Ethan plunged into her with a long, deep thrust that first took her breath away, then powerfully pushed forth her blatant scream. She looked at the mirror and saw her eyes glaze as her orgasm sailed free.

“I’m—not what you thought,” she managed, while he continued long, hard strokes that drove her right back to the brink. She was going to come again. She could feel it, couldn’t stop it any more than she could stop her next breath. But she had to know. “Not what—you thought,” she repeated, while the lurking orgasm intensified.

“No”—he pushed into her again and again, while her passion built and spiraled and churned . . . until she released a second orgasmic cry—“you’re
not
what I thought, Clarise. You’re more.”

Chapter 16

S
o much for wooing her. Ethan hadn’t taken it slow or easy one damn time yesterday, not under the bleachers, not in the elevator, and not the two times in bed last night. His intentions had been good, damn near noble, in his opinion. He’d planned to show her how much he cared, how sensitive he could be to her needs, but whenever he touched Clarise intimately, his own need became so powerful he could hardly get his cock out of his pants before he embedded it in her dripping heat. Yeah,
that
was the way to convince her what they have, or could have, exceeded sex. Ethan rolled over and gently pushed a single brown lock from her sleeping face. She looked so peaceful, so completely comfortable beside him in bed.

He’d never had much experience at waking up with someone. Hell, he hadn’t had a lick of experience in that area. His previous relationships had been purely recreational, with everyone knowing the stakes up front. No sleepovers. Sleepovers meant commitment, and he hadn’t wanted to give unwarranted hope, since he’d never found a woman who made him feel that way. But this time, he was the one hoping, and although Clarise Robinson knew he’d spend several nights in her bed, she’d been totally up front about the reason—fulfilling the fantasies on her list. Surely he could convince her to modify her list. Say, to include waking up together daily from now on rather than simply satisfying her wild itch.

She mumbled something incoherent and twisted toward him. The sheet slid down, baring her left breast, which nudged his biceps as she snuggled.

Hell. How was he supposed to spend time letting her see their potential at long-and-lasting when his dick could care less if she knew anything beyond his long-and-lasting stamina? Which had finally come back into play during their first tumble in an actual bed. It’d taken concentration beyond measure, but he’d managed to keep his cock from exploding long enough to merit a bout of shock and praise from Clarise over his endurance. Then again, they’d already had sex twice by the time they hit a mattress. That in and of itself helped him achieve his goal of staying inside her as long as humanly possible before climaxing. However, three times in a day hadn’t sated his appetite for Clarise. Oh no, she’d cuddled against him during the night, her hips undulating as though she were dreaming. About him. About
them.
And sure enough, when he’d stroked the tender flesh between her legs, he’d found her drenched and ready. Again. The fourth time had been just as good as the first, and the only reason they stopped after that was pure exhaustion. Today, though, he didn’t want to spend every moment trying to get inside her pants.

Yeah, right.

But he wouldn’t. He wanted to get inside her heart, and that, Ethan feared, would take every ounce of willpower he possessed, particularly when she was so eager to have him inside her pants. How was he supposed to discuss his hopes and dreams of a potential future when her list kept sneaking into the conversation—and making his dick rise to the occasion? He’d spent the past three years informing her during their Friday coffee chats how he seemed to be incapable of having anything beyond the physical with women. Couldn’t he have once mentioned that he did, eventually, want the suburbia bliss? Instead of the fact that he was beginning to believe it didn’t exist? And now that he thought it was a possibility, with her, how was he supposed to spring it on her now that she insinuated that was exactly what she
didn’t
want?

“Commitment isn’t on the list,”
she’d said. Boy, if that wasn’t life throwing him a curve. He was considering settling down, while Clarise wanted sex and no commitments. He brushed a kiss against her ear, then inhaled her feminine scent as she curled against him. He wanted her, and he needed to make today work as a way of showing her their potential future. Yeah, he had no doubt they’d tumble, a time or two, before it ended, but he wanted to talk as well, to get to know this intoxicating woman who’d become not only his friend but also his lover.

The sound of a marching band drifted up from the street below and reminded Ethan of the parade currently taking place outside their condominium. He’d listened to the street sweeper repeat its chore this morning, the chatter of businesses gearing up for the day, the crowds gathering on the sidewalk. All of the sounds distinctive to Gasparilla in Tampa. Then, while he’d showered and cleaned up, the first parade had passed. Now the second parade of the day stomped beneath their balcony, and his beautiful Clarise, undoubtedly exhausted by their evening of sexual gymnastics, slept through it all.

Ethan chuckled and snuggled against her curves. As usual, his eyes had opened at precisely 6:00
A
.
M
., and he hadn’t returned to sleep. Growing up in the Eubanks household, there were always plenty of things to do for the department store in the early morning. Meetings planned with buyers, inventories carefully navigated, employees properly motivated to sell . . . with style. The family was determined to make the place worthy of its “Elegant Apparel” name, and through years of hard work, determination and meticulously planned expansion, they had. After Ethan and Jeff became adults, Preston Eubanks concentrated even more on the bigger picture, bringing their small Southern store to national proportions. Merely two years after opening their second store in Atlanta, their profits had quadrupled, thanks to Preston’s careful selection of location near the Mall of Georgia and Jeff’s business sense. While Ethan and his father were the sure-and-steady kind of entrepreneurs, Jefferson Eubanks took a different approach. He was a risk-taker, plain and simple, but he was smart about the chances he took, and his store reaped the rewards of his business savvy.

Ethan smirked. He had no doubt Jeff would win his current wager with their father. His brother’s penchant for outrageous forms of advertising had paid off in Atlanta; it should work as well for the Birmingham store. In truth, Ethan would have used some of Jeff’s techniques already, but he’d always favored their father’s approach to business—slow, steady and stable. Build a business that stands on its own, and it’ll stand the test of time and change—another of Preston Eubanks’s favorite philosophies.

He looked at Clarise. There hadn’t been anything slow or steady about their rapid progression from best buddies to heated lovers. As a matter of fact, Ethan would have to classify this as a very “Jeff” type scenario. Risky. Savvy. And while he wanted this relationship to stand the test of time, he also wanted it to start with a bang, so to speak. With their time at Gasparilla, he believed it would. Sure, it was risky, fast-forwarding from friends to lovers in a span of days, but as his brother’s risky tactics had played off in business, with amazing success and unquestionable profitability, Ethan totally planned on his relationship with Clarise having the same results. Amazing success.

She moaned in her sleep. Funny, he’d never taken her for a late sleeper. He wondered if he could adjust to waking up later and staying in bed each morning a little while longer . . . with Clarise. Even though he’d hired Robin Kennedy to ensure everything at the store ran smoothly, he still woke at the crack of dawn ready to prepare for a profitable day. He supposed it was due to his hands-on approach to the business, or perhaps he hadn’t been fully ready to turn over the reins to his competent store manager, efficient or not. However, with Clarise at his side, perhaps he could get used to letting the crew run the ship. Wasn’t that what owning a business and making it work was all about? Hiring a diligent group to conduct the day-to-day activities while he kept his focus on the big picture? Wouldn’t that be what was necessary for the new Panache acquisition to achieve success? Looking at the big picture and delegating duties accordingly? Sure, it was. But he hadn’t released the day-to-day drill because he hadn’t had a reason to let go. Now he did. Clarise.

His top salesperson since she began working at the store, Clarise had amazing insight into the fashion world, particularly the realm of the Women’s Department. Even more specifically with regards to clothing for curvaceous women. Her recommendations for fabrics that accentuated, rather than downplayed, a woman’s natural assets had produced a faithful bounty of affluent women who swore they’d only shop at Eubanks and only accept fashion advice from Clarise. Did she realize what an asset she was to the store? Ethan had told her repeatedly, not only in her performance reviews but also during their Friday chats, but he suspected she believed his praise to be friendship-induced. It wasn’t. Sure, they were friends, but she was gifted in women’s clothing and exactly the type of person Eubanks Elegant Apparel needed to oversee the women’s departments in each of their stores, the new Panache stores included.

He made a mental note to speak with his father and Jeff about the asset of having a knowledgeable department head, preferably someone like Clarise, in each new store.
Someone like Clarise.
There weren’t many women like her out there, no others that Ethan had found yet. And wasn’t he the lucky one to have found
her?
First as a friend, and now as a lover. But unfortunately, while their friendship had grown steadily over the past three years, Ethan had no doubt that she’d always held back, hadn’t opened up nearly as much as he. Shame he hadn’t pushed harder to get to know the real Clarise. He’d tried continually to let her know how intriguing she was, had outright told her, in fact. But she’d taken it as a he’s-saying-it-because-he’s-my-friend kind of thing. He should’ve worked harder to convince her it was the truth, and he should’ve worked harder to learn more about her hopes and dreams, to strengthen their friendship bond even further. But he’d do that, starting today. Turn that friendship into something only lovers shared. Something she’d want for life. An over-the-top bond, both emotionally and physically. They’d sure built a sexual bond in the past twenty-four hours, had probably broken a few records, as well as a spring or two in the bed. But he only had three more days to prove their ties were strong enough for commitment. So today, he needed to get inside Clarise’s head. And her heart.