I knew these were dangerous questions that would probably get me hurt and might end up with Ethan never wanting to see me again, but I also knew I couldn't go on this way not knowing. No matter if it resulted in the end of our relationship, I had to learn the truth about these things, and I had to hear it from Ethan's own lips.
"Ethan, we need to talk," I said, striding towards the bathroom.
"Shit! Are you out of your fucking mind? You're trying to ruin me. Well, I won't let it happen. I'll destroy you first."
Ethan was yelling into his cell phone at the top of his lungs, and it terrified me. I had never seen him so deeply angry. I didn't know what was going on, but I knew my petty worries needed to be set aside for now. Whatever he was going through, it was bad, and he needed me.
Seeing him in jeopardy like that made me realize one important thing: I loved him, and if he was suffering, I was going to be by his side to support him and help him through it. It didn't matter if he didn't love me in the same way. It didn't matter about his past, or his secrets, or how he behaved in interviews.
All that mattered was I loved him, and I was going to help him no matter what.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ethan
I'd never been happier. I was at the top of my industry with Speed Motorcycles ranked as the number one motorcycle company in the country. People from all around the world were now clamoring to buy one of my bikes, and the orders for the new All American were already breaking industry records.
I had a great house in Beverly Hills, California that I loved to come home to every night. When you spent your childhood wondering if you were going to have a roof over your head some nights, nothing meant more than that kind of security. I had bought my parents a house so they'd never have to know that worry again, too, especially my dad. I had a vacation property in Hawaii and another in Colorado. My garage was filled with more cars than I could possibly drive, especially when I had a collection of motorcycles that I loved even more. I could go anywhere I wanted, any time I wanted, just because I fucking felt like it, and nobody could stop me.
Best of all, I had found a woman who fulfilled my every need. I had thought being successful meant being able to go down to the hottest club and hook up with any chick I wanted to. I thought being free was going out with a different hot model every Friday night. I thought being in a committed relationship would kill my soul and ruin all the things in my life that made me who I was. I thought all the poor suckers out there that were tied down to one woman had sacrificed the best parts of themselves; that if I did the same thing, I would lose my creativity, spontaneity, and the essence of my manhood.
It's how I viewed what happened to my father when my mother left him and he tried to drown himself in depression and alcohol. I never understood why he yearned for her the way he did and why he took her back so willingly when she returned, telling him it had been a mistake and she wanted the two of them to help each other get well. I never understood that kind of unconditional love.
Now, with Kayla, I finally did.
It was too big a step for me to say I loved Kayla, but she was the first woman that made me ask that question. From the moment I saw her at that audition, looking like a shy fawn, and then when her top fell off and the adorable way she reacted, I was fascinated by her.
Then, when I spent the entire day with her, teaching her how to ride, that fascination turned to inspiration. She was so daring and persistent. No matter much something scared her, or how many times she failed at it, she wouldn't give up. She just kept trying until she got it, and even then, she wouldn't quit until she got it right. She was a perfectionist, and a daredevil, and still completely sweet. Her patience was unending, and her willingness to keep going was inspiring.
I gained a respect for her that day. It made me want to open up to her when we were sitting under that oak tree and share my story with her, and when she shared her story with me, what started out as fascination and then inspiration turned to compassion.
I yearned to protect her, provide for her, and take care of her. She suddenly meant something to me, far more than just some dumb, sexy model I wanted to fuck and then toss aside. She was being used by that asshole boyfriend of hers and needed someone like me to show her how she deserved to be treated.
It felt good taking care of somebody — really good. I loved seeing the way her face her lit up, watching her eyes sparkle, noticing how that beautiful smile spread until she was glowing. Once I had taste of making her smile, I wanted more of it. It was addictive, like a drug, and all I could think about from that moment was making her smile — that and kissing those perfect lips.
I had kissed a lot of women over the years. I'd slept with more gorgeous models and sexy socialites than I could even remember, but there was something about Kayla Brandt that I knew I would never forget.
The way her skin felt to my touch, the way her lips tasted, the way her body responded to mine in just that right way; it was intoxicating. I could hardly believe it when she told me that she'd never played bondage sex games before, except I knew nothing about Kayla was dishonest. She was authentic in every way, from her unenhanced breasts to every word she said, Kayla was always genuine.
I guess that's what made the sex with her so incredible. I knew she wasn't faking it or trying to act like she thought I'd want her to. The reactions she gave to every touch were her true sexual responses, and that was erotic as hell. When her skin shivered and her mouth sighed, I knew I had truly affected her on a deeper level, and when she clutched at the sheets and screamed out in passion, I knew I was really giving her the best orgasm of her life.
It seemed oddly selfish to think of it these terms, but making Kayla come was the greatest pleasure I'd ever known. It made me feel gratified in a way I'd never experienced before. I had always been an over-achiever, getting top grades in school, working my ass off for Krueger, and then working even harder to create Speed Motorcycles and turn it into what it was today, but all that hard work and been selfishly motivated. I was serving myself with the ultimate goal of achieving wealth, and I'd succeeded. I was now outrageously rich with no one in my life to share it with or enjoy it alongside me.
When I was Kayla, however, making her writhe on the bed with delirious pleasure as I fucked her all night long, I was giving something to someone who truly deserved it. Kayla Brandt had felt unloved and unappreciated most of her life; she was craving male attention and acceptance. I wanted to be the one to give that to her and reward her with pleasures unlike anything she'd ever known. I wanted to be the one to make her light up in that way and to say that I was her man.
She had the kind of body I knew I would never get tired of, and the kind of personality I could just sit and talk with for hours. Nothing about her was boring, fake, or annoying. She was just terrific all the way around, and I never wanted to be without her.
I guess that said it all. I wanted to be in a relationship with Kayla Brandt. I wanted to be with her alone and no one else, and I wanted her to commit to the same with me. I was ready for this next stage in my life.
It felt good to come to this realization and I felt invigorated. Just moments ago, she and I had been fucking wildly on my dining room table. Now, I was in the shower, having this amazing catharsis while she was in my bedroom rubbing lotion on her perfectly round ass.
I turned off the hot water and reached for a towel as I stepped out of the shower. I couldn't wait to tell her I was ready to commit to her, and see what she said. A flash of fear washed over me as I wondered if she would reject me, but I had to shake it off. Every instinct I had told
me that she felt the same way as I did. I just had to go for it.
I could hear the television blaring in the bedroom and realized she must have turned it on. I strained my ears, trying to figure out what she was watching when I became aware of the sound of my cell phone ringing. I found it on the bathroom counter and answered it.
"Hey, buddy. It's me again." The voice sounded drunk, or maybe high.