Page 48 of Masquerade Mistake
“I love huge salads,” I say. Finn acts like he’s going to throw up. “You have to pick one,” I say.
“Fine. Broccoli,” he huffs. I know he’s just saying it because Ethan did, but I test it by placing one small piece of broccoli on his plate. Finn pushes his plate away.
“Dude, you don’t know what you’re missing. When you eat broccoli like this,” he pauses to take off his flannel, revealing his tatted arms under his white t-shirt, “you get guns like these.”
Finn’s eyes widen. “You have tattoos?”
Ethan lets Finn get close to look at all his tattoos, and I’m somewhere between charmed at this interaction and horrified that Finn might think tattoos are cool enough to get one of this own. It’s one thing to think Ethan looks sexy with them, it’s a whole other thing to think of my son’s beautiful skin covered in ink.
“My turn again,” Ethan says. He looks at me, then shifts his eyes at Finn. I glance over just in time to see Finn eat the broccoli, then get a thoughtful look on his face. He takes the container, and it takes everything in me to say nothing as Finn spoons a small helping of broccoli and beef onto his plate.
We play a few more rounds, then retire to the living room for a movie—Finn’s choice, which is How to Train Your Dragon for the millionth time. Ethan still hasn’t mentioned the cars on the counter, and I know Finn is dying to know.
“Ethan?” he asks. He’s sitting between both of us, sidled up to me. I notice that he keeps his legs kicked to the side to keep Ethan as far away as possible. “Who are those cars for?”
“What cars?” Ethan asks. His face is serious, but I give him away by laughing. Finn looks at me, then rolls his eyes.
“The ones on the counter,” he says.
“Oh! I forgot!” Ethan jumps up, bringing the cars and the vase of flowers.
“These are for you,” he says to Finn, holding out the flowers. Finn takes them, his eyebrows furled as he eyes the cars in Ethan’s hands.
“And these are for you,” he says to me, handing me the cars.
“Hey!” Finn says, but his smile proves that he gets the joke. He hands me the flowers, then grins wider as he takes the cars. He looks them over, then drops to the ground to tear open the packaging. I’m about to remind him to say thank you, but he looks up at Ethan.
“Thank you,” he says, and it’s so full of sincerity, I think I hear the trust that comes with it. Sure enough, once he has the cars unpackaged, he sits on the other side of me, putting me in the middle.
“Scoot over,” he says, and I gladly move toward Ethan, Finn leaning against my thigh. I stealthily move my pinky toward Ethan, brushing it against his hand. He squeezes it, and without looking at me, offers a tiny side smile.
That’s all the contact we have for the next two hours. But once Finn is in bed, Ethan and I cuddle on the couch, making up for lost time with small caresses. His arm is around me, and I’m overwhelmed by the sexual tension that’s built up inside me—tension I know we won’t relieve tonight. It’s probably from seeing Ethan interact with Finn, and all the relief that came with it.
“You were a natural,” I tell him, looking up into his dark eyes. He kisses the tip of my nose.
“Finn’s an easy kid to like,” he says. I laugh.
“Right. Easy.” I lift an eyebrow, and he smirks.
“Fine, but he wasn’t unpredictable. If you were my mom, I’d tell everyone to be hands off too.” He tilts his head. “That didn’t sound right. What I mean is that Finn loves you and is protective of you. He needed to make sure I’m not going to hurt you.”
“He let us sit next to each other,” I point out. Ethan grins.
“I think that was my favorite part of the whole night.”
“What, sitting next to me? Or Finn letting you sit next to me?”
He leans in and kisses my nose again.
“Both.”
Chapter 20
Monday morning, Ethan shows up at my house a few minutes after Finn’s bus has left, just like old times. What isn’t like old times is the amped up anticipation I feel as he walks toward the door. I guess that’s what a week apart will do, plus the fact that we barely touched the night he met Finn. So when he opens the door, I launch myself at him. He catches me easily, his mouth on mine in a shattering kiss as he tugs at my shirt and the waistband of my yoga pants. We leave a trail of clothes to the bedroom where he follows me to the bed, his hands on my body, my hands in his hair, our mouths searching each other.
“We should talk, right?” he breathes against me as we collapse on the mattress. I shove the condom in his hand and shake my head.
“Yes, but later. Don’t stop.”