Chapter 51

Later that evening as I sat in the silent cabin, I gazed around the shadowy interior, the scent of the candle I had lit for lighting feathering out about the room. After leaving work, I had swung by the electric company and they promised they would have the line to the cabin restored and the electric on within hours of the restoration.

The candle flickered, casting shadows on the walls that danced like the ghosts of my thoughts. My mind kept drifting back to Ethan. Despite his apology, the way he had treated me after we had made love was unforgivable. Yet, the memory of his touch, the way he had made me feel alive for the first time, it was like a forbidden fruit that I couldn’t stop craving.

The roar of an engine from a motorcycle reached my ears as it pulled up in front of the cabin, before shutting off.

Moments later, the door swung open, and Ethan stumbled in, his breath reeking of whiskey. "So this is where you are," he slurred, a half-smile playing on his lips.

"Where else would I be?" I replied, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

He swayed slightly, his hand reaching out to steady himself on the kitchen counter. "Thought you might've...hell, I don’t know," he growled.

I watched him, his unsteady movements setting my nerves on edge. "You're drunk," I stated the obvious.

"Yeah, I am," he said, not bothering to deny it. "Thought it might help...forget."

"Forget what?" I couldn't help the bite in my tone.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. "Forget that I want you so badly it hurts," he whispered, the tension in the room thickening like the scent of alcohol surrounding him.

I took a step back, my heart racing. "Ethan, you're not making this any easier."

He took another step, closing the gap between us. "Easy?" He laughed bitterly. "Nothing about us is easy, Nico."

The heat from his body washed over me, and I felt the pull of desire that I had been trying so hard to ignore. "What do you want from me?" I asked again, my voice shaking.

"I want you," he said, his voice low and needy. "But I can't have you, can I?"

The words hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the forbidden yearning that had been growing between us.

He reached out, his hand brushing against my cheek. The warmth of his skin was like a brand, setting my body on fire. "You feel it too, don't you?" he murmured.

I closed my eyes, willing the feeling to go away. "It doesn't matter what I feel," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

His hand dropped, and he took a step back, his shoulders slumping. "You're right," he said, his voice heavy with defeat. "It doesn't."

We stood there, tension circling around us. His breath was a heady mix of whiskey and something minty, and I could feel his gaze on me like a physical weight.

"I should take you home, Ethan," I said, my voice shaky.

He stumbled closer, his hand reaching for me again. "No," he slurred. "I don't want to go home."

I stepped back, my heart racing. "What do you want?"

He leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving mine. "You know what I want."

The way he said it, the raw need in his voice, made me ache. I knew I should push him away, tell him no, but the memory of his touch was too powerful.

"Ethan," I began, but he cut me off with a kiss, his lips urgent and desperate. For a moment, I melted into him, my body responding despite my better judgment. But reality crashed back down, and I shoved him away. "You’re married," I said, my voice firm. "You took vows."

He stumbled back, the pain in his eyes sobering him slightly. "Fuck the vows," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "We mean nothing to each other. You know it."

"You don't mean that," I whispered.

"Don't tell me what I mean," he snapped. "You're the one who's too scared to admit it."

The sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the cabin as he left, land the roar of his bike leaving, left me alone with my tumultuous thoughts.

The candle flickered, casting shadows that danced around the room like silent whispers of our unspoken feelings. The smell of whiskey lingered in the air, a potent reminder of the man who had just been there.

I sank onto the couch, my head in my hands. What had just happened? Was this really the end of us, both personally and professionally?

The night stretched out before me, long and dark, filled with doubt and regret. But amidst the chaos, one thing was clear—the forbidden desire that burned between us had become a living, breathing entity that neither of us could ignore any longer.

I stood up, deciding to get some air. The cool breeze outside was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the trees. The crickets sang a mournful tune, a serenade to our shattered hearts.

As I walked along the porch, the sound of gravel crunching underfoot made me turn. Ethan was standing there, his eyes blazing with a need that matched the moon's light.

"I can't ignore this," he said, his voice hoarse. "I need you, Nico."

I stepped back, my heart pounding.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out. "I can't keep fighting it." And before I could protest, before I could think of the consequences, he kissed me again. This time, I didn't push him away. Instead, I kissed him back, our bodies entwining as the night wrapped around us like a dark embrace.

The world faded away, leaving only the two of us, our passion a beacon in the darkness. And as we lost ourselves in each other, I knew that there was no turning back. We had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. But as the kiss deepened, I also knew that the price for this moment of bliss would be steep. Our careers, our friendship, our very souls were all at stake. Yet, in that moment, with the stars as our witnesses, we didn't care. We were consumed by a desire that had been building for so long, it felt as if it had been destined from the start. And as we stumbled into the cabin, the candle casting shadows that danced on our skin, I knew that we were embarking on a journey that would change us forever—whether we liked it or not.

"Ethan, stop," I whispered, but my protest was weak, my body betraying the resolve in my voice.

"I can't," he said, his breath hot against my neck as he unbuttoned my shirt. "You're all I think about."

The sound of fabric tearing was like a gunshot in the quiet room, the scent of wax and whiskey mingling with the pine from the cabin walls. His hands were rough, desperate, as they traced the lines of my body, igniting a fire within me.

"We can't," I murmured, even as I arched into his touch.

"We can," he growled, his teeth grazing my earlobe. "We will."

Our kisses grew more frantic, our breathing ragged as we fell onto the couch, a tangle of limbs and need. The tension between us was like a live wire, crackling with the electricity of our forbidden desire. The springs of the old couch groaned under our weight, the fabric scratchy against my skin, but all I could feel was the heat of him, the taste of him. His hands were everywhere, and I was lost in the sensation, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and sensations that I couldn’t fight.

"Nicole," he murmured, his voice thick with want. "Tell me you want this."

"I do," I breathed, the words escaping my lips before I could stop them.

The confession hung in the air full of potent need. Ethan's eyes searched mine. The candlelight played across his face, highlighting the shadows of his stubble and the pain etched into his features. His hand rested on my hip, his thumb tracing a pattern that made me shiver.

"Nicole," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me as he leaned in, his breath warm against my skin. "Say it," he urged, his voice ragged. "Say you want me."

"I want you Ethan," I breathed, the words a surrender to the tempest inside me.

Our kisses grew more urgent, fueled by the whiskey on his breath and the unspoken tension that had been building for months. The smell of the cabin, of pine and dust, melded with the scent of him, intoxicating me. His hands roamed my body, his touch a brand that seared through my clothes and left me trembling.

The couch creaked beneath us again as we moved together, our bodies a dance of need and restraint. Ethan's hand found my zipper, and I gasped as he tugged it down, his fingers finding the bare skin beneath. The cool air brushed against me, sending goosebumps racing along my spine.

"Ethan," I protested, but the word was lost in the heat of his mouth as he kissed me again. His tongue was a fierce dance, tasting of whiskey and desperation.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with need. "So fucking beautiful."

I pushed him away with a strength I didn't know I had. "We can't do this," I said, my voice shaking. "You're drunk."

He stumbled back, his eyes glazed. "You're right," he said, his voice slurred. "But that doesn't change the way I feel about you."

I felt the weight of his words like a punch to the gut. We stared at each other. The candle flickered, casting shadows that danced across his face, a masquerade for the turmoil within us.

Suddenly jerking away from me, Ethan growled, “When I make love to you again, I’m going to be sober.” Then he was gone, the sound of the door slamming was like a gunshot, echoing through the cabin.

I paced the room, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet. The scent of the whiskey on his breath still lingered in the air, a taunting specter of what could have been.

As the candle burned lower, I made my decision. I couldn't let this go on—not for him, not for me, not for the job we both loved.

The next morning, I found Ethan sitting on the porch, his eyes bloodshot and his head in his hands. The smell of alcohol still clung to him, a noxious reminder of the night before.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice firm.

He looked up, his expression a mix of hope and dread. "Nico..."

"We can't keep doing this," I said, cutting him off. "We're partners, and we have a job to do. We can't let this...this...whatever it is, get in the way."

He stood up, his eyes searching mine. "But you felt it too," he said, his voice raw.

"Yes," I admitted, the word sticking in my throat. "But we can't let it ruin us."

The silence was a living, breathing entity between us, the weight of our unspoken feelings threatening to crush us.

"We can keep it professional," I said, my voice shaking. "We can put this behind us."

Ethan took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. "Okay," he said, finally. "For the case. For us."