Page 61 of Tangled in Vines

“Be quiet,” I told him while dropping the last letter into the box, but something tugged my attention to the roof of the chest. The damask lining was peeling off, and something was poking out. I gently fished it out, and there was a card.

From the writing, I knew it was Sarah’s. “We’ve left this record of our love for those who might come after us to know that love had no boundaries or limitations. Love might find you at the moment you least expect it.”

Ethan had just righted the tipped chairs and came to my side, softly resting a hand on the small of my back. “Huh. I guess she was the one who saw the future.”

Remembering his quip from a few days ago, I elbowed him. “You’re horrible.” I gazed at the card. “How are our folks going to take this?”

“With faints and screams and denial,” Ethan replied. “But after that, the ball is in their court, and we move on with our lives.”

I closed the chest. “Cécile will take over from here. Can—can we go to your place?”

“Sure,” he brushed a kiss over my temple. “C’mon.”

After a word with Cécile, we headed out to our cars, and I trialed behind him heading to his house. Parking, I happily left and followed him inside. “Can you get some coffee on?” I asked.

“Only if you promise not to murder it with cream and sugar,” Ethan narrowed his eyes.

“I promise,” I lied.

He rolled his eyes but got the coffee on anyway. “Do you think we should try and find our relatives?”

“No,” I said instantly. “Well, we can find them but not pull them in, not until we clean house first. We cannot drag them from their peaceful life into our chaos. It might take years, but I won’t do it.”

“Huh, that makes sense,” Ethan braced his hands on the counter and toed his shoes off. “Mia, I meant what I said; I do want to have a relationship with you.”

My heart drummed in my chest, and my hands shook as Ethan looked at me with absolute purpose in his eyes. I believed him. I knew he was set on this—and a part of me was that way, too. We just needed to clean around us a bit more.

He came around the table and grabbed my hand, “You believe me, don’t you?”

“After that grand gesture of…citizenship, yes,” I replied.

“Citizenship…” His lips ticked down. “Are you going to give me the keys to the city then?”

I didn’t know if that was a pun, but I was going to use it. Gripping his shirt, I pulled him in. “…In a manner of speaking.”

Our bodies sparked as my chest met his, and his mouth slanted over mine, the air sizzling around us as our lips meshed. His groan was like a spark to the heat smoldering under my skin, and I all but climbed him like a tree, locking my legs around his waist.

He smelled like musk; I kissed him deep and hard, my ears thrumming to the frantic beat of my heart. Ethan maneuvered us to the nearest couch, sat, and pulled me on to saddle him. His hands clamped to my hips as I dug my knees into the cushions on either side of his thighs.

I slid my fingers into his hair and rubbed myself against him, the deep throbbing between my legs craving connection, craving the heat and hardness of him. The hard ridge of his arousal felt alternatively good and bad: good that he showed his interest, bad that he was not inside me.

“Christ.” He tore his mouth from mine, his lips attacking my throat and moving lower, his heat under my palms while his tongue licked along my collarbones. “I want you.”

“Take me to bed then,” I replied.

“What about coffee?” he asked.

“Coffee can wait,” I kissed him. “I can’t.”

Ethan laughed and stood with me, “We’ll sort out the rest later. When I’m done with you, they might hear you from my home.”

“Ethan!”

“How about Texas?”

I laughed; the man was getting so freaking smug—when he was not being sarcastic and growly—but he was all mine, and I could live with that.

THE END