Free In the Fire by Eileen Griffin, Nikka Michaels Page A

and check on him again, I slid between the cool sheets of the bed. I stared up at the ceiling, tired and wrung out. I would be lucky to get any sleep tonight.
    * * *
    The alarm on my phone trilled loudly in the dark room, startling me out of an exhausted doze. I fumbled until I found it, quickly swiping my finger across the screen to turn the obnoxious chimes off. Eight o’clock. I exhaled, cursing Trevor and my godforsaken schedule. The last time I had looked at the clock it had been around three in the morning.
    I slid out of bed and padded into the small sitting room to check on Ethan. The sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the room in hazy light. He had curled up into a ball on the narrow couch, his hands under his head as a pillow. His legs moved every so often to some unknown rhythm I couldn’t hear.
    I sat down in the chair across from him. He looked vulnerable as he slept. Last night had been as infuriating as it had been confusing. A surly, angry Ethan would have been easy to keep at a distance. The words he’d flung at me had hurt, but they were just reminders of the fights that had led to our separation. The passionate Ethan in the bathroom, who brought me to orgasm with only the touch of his hand, the gentle Ethan who had kissed me last night in a drunken stupor...they left me aching for the connection we’d once had.
    I grabbed a can of Coke from the mini fridge, dug some Tylenol out of my bag, setting both on the table next to the couch. I allowed myself a few more moments to memorize the hard planes of his face and the corded muscles of his ink-covered arms before I convinced myself it was time to take a shower. Last night had been a mistake Ethan wouldn’t have made if he’d been sober. With a resolution to keep my jumbled feelings to myself, I walked to the bathroom, hoping a long, hot shower would help erase the ache I’d felt in my heart since I had first seen Ethan walk into the bar.

Chapter Nine
    Ethan
    When I sat up, my head throbbed. I blinked slowly and the bright light had me flopping back on the couch as I cradled my aching head in my hands.
Way to go
,
Martin.
Opening your eyes was a definite mistake.
    My parched throat ached, and nausea bubbled up in my stomach as my foggy brain struggled to make heads or tails. Moving gingerly this time, I slowly sat up on a couch, in a hotel room larger and nicer than my own.
    Where was I?
    A door opened, followed by a rush of steam. The man who wandered into the bedroom with a towel wrapped low around his slim hips was none other than Jamie Lassiter. I watched his reflection in the mirror behind him. He’d filled out in the last eight years. He was still on the lean side but now his muscles were more defined. His messy blond hair, dark from the shower, stuck up everywhere and made him look younger. Even though I had the monster hangover from hell my body responded and the borrowed sweatpants grew tighter.
    When he bent down to towel off, I glimpsed the swell of his ass. Allowing my eyes to linger for just a second longer than I needed to, I flopped back against the couch and cursed. What karmic crime had I committed in a past life to be stuck in a room with a very naked ex?
    “When you’re through staring at my ass, there’s a Coke and Tylenol on the table next to you.”
Busted.
Unwilling and unable to move, I raised my hand above the top of the couch, giving him a one-fingered salute.
    His husky laugh sent ripples of heat down my body as I closed my eyes and tried counting to ten. The Jamie I’d known hadn’t been this ballsy. I hated that I liked this new version of him. I hated how he’d obviously taken care of me last night even more.
    Every movement was slow and painful as I reached for the meds and water. “How did I get here?” My raspy voice and sore throat were no doubt a result of smoking like a chimney. I greedily gulped the Coke and tossed back the Tylenol, thanking the cooking gods when he reappeared fully clothed