The Lottery (9 page)

“Well, sarcasm doesn’t help either.” Karlyn just stood staring
back at him, not knowing what else to say. His smile and banter through her off
balance, and her knees felt wobbly as he continued to stare. The butterflies
that had been swarming in her belly since the first time she had laid eyes on
him began again, as fear crept into her core and heat swirled in her mound. His
hot gaze alone was enough to ignite the fires of desire in seconds. And she did
not know how to react to him, especially considering his hot and cold
mentality. One moment he made her knees weak, the next he made her feel as though
she might crawl into a corner and hide.

“All I wanted to do was to make a nice dinner for you. Is that
against the rules?” She noted his slumped shoulders, and wondered if their
bickering was tiring him as much as it was her.

“I just wonder at your motives.”

“Does everything have to have a motive? Do you have a motive for
every action you take? You don’t seem the heartless wench under that doe eyed
exterior, but perhaps you have been hiding the inner bitch?”

“Ethan Spears, you are a brute. Take my half of whatever junk you
are cooking and shove it sideways up your ass. I can’t believe anyone would
spend ten million on a ticket to spend even one moment with you.”

As soon as the sound escaped her lips, she regretted the words
and hoped he did not realize what she had just implied.

Stalking towards her, she felt rooted to the spot she stood in.
Heat coursed through her body with the look of need that flickered in his eyes.
Grasping her hips and pulling her close once he reached her, he lowered his
head, lips mere inches from her mouth. She felt him thicken against her stomach
and need spiraled through her.

Looking up at his face, seeing the emerald depths of his eyes
glaze over in lust, she mentally begged for that mouth to descend on hers once
more. She felt her toes push forward ever so slightly, in order to make his
capture effortless. Smelling the sweet hint of cinnamon on his heated breath,
her tongue came out to swipe her lips, a silent plead for him to continue.

“Well, get over it, baby, because you were evidently hard-up
enough to spend it, and now you are stuck with me.”

Her face red with humiliation at his cutting words, she breathed
in a deep breath of shock. Karlyn stared at him and his gall, before pushing
him away. She was indeed stuck with him for the next year, but her
embarrassment subsided once she recalled his heated cock, long and hard,
against her belly. Looking down, she saw he was still hard and hot. Knowing she
affected him as much as he did her squashed some of her embarrassment.

Suddenly realizing he had not caught the implication that she had
not been the one who had paid the money for his ticket, she sighed inwardly in
relief. Seconds later she had to bite the inside of her lip to prevent herself
from telling him just that as renewed anger over his little show flooded her.
She wasn’t sure if she was angrier over the way he had played her or in her
reaction to him.

“Yes, you are
sooo
right. I guess I was really hard-up, as you put it, to buy a ticket. But I have
so learned my lesson. And as usual, with my luck, I bought a lemon.”

Ethan stopped stirring the skillet at that comment. “A lemon?”

“Yes, a lemon. An old expression my grandmother once taught me. It
means you didn’t get what you paid for.”

Ethan turned towards her. “I can remedy that for you. Do you want
me to lick between those thighs of yours until you cum? Or would you rather I
ram my cock into your pussy? You want to lean over that chair over there and
bare your ass for me, I can do it right here for you. I am under contract to perform
for you whenever the mood strikes you. Is that your thing? You like to fight…do
you want me to fight with you and pin you to the floor and be rough with you?”
The derision in his words was mounting with each syllable.

Shock was written all over her face, her mouth open in utter
mortification. She had never heard such language, and she could kick herself
for the images now swirling in her head and making her nipples tight with
excitement. But she wouldn’t give in to the baser instincts…not considering he
said these words in anger, not in desire. Fear prevailed and squashed the lust
that swarmed her.

 
“No, Ethan. I would prefer
you not touch me at all,” she whispered back to him, exhausted from all the
fighting since he had stepped into the door. She had no more strength to fight
back. Her eyes stinging, she fought the urge to cry in defeat. With that, she
grasped a half full, open bottle of burgundy and a goblet. She turned and
walked back up the stairs and into her loft.

With her back to him, she felt him watch her as she walked away.
She heard him throw something, and looked over her shoulder as the full frying
pan landed into the sink. He stalked back to the bedroom, closing the door
behind him. She turned back and finished her climb to the loft.

****

Karlyn drained the last drops of wine from the bottle and
considered going downstairs for another. The events of the last few days were
going to make her an alcoholic. Her stomach clenched, as she realized she was
still hungry. She rose from the overstuffed beanbag pillow she used to rest on when
she worked and peeked over the railing. She saw no signs of Ethan or his vile
temper, so she quietly padded down the stairs.

Grasping the handle of the fridge unit, she spied a bottle of
pinot grigio that she had snuck out of a holiday party the previous Christmas
and grasped it, looking at a hunk of moldy cheese sitting near the top. Even
though she hated to admit it, her mother was right in one regard.
Was this really living?
She closed the
unit and turned to the cabinets. She saw the well prepared dinner sitting in
the frying pan in the sink, and looked it over. Grasping a hunk of meat, she
sniffed. It smelled divine, and then she thrust it into her mouth. Heaven. He
may be an ass, but he sure could cook.

Eating a few more bites, enough to keep the hunger pains at bay,
she stood before the sink, eating.
Is
this as bad as eating out of the trash? What the hell has my life come to?
After
a few more bites, she seized the new bottle, opened the cork and waddled her
way back up to the loft, slipping on a tread or two.

Falling onto the pillow, she reached for the empty goblet, filled
it and proceeded to drink the entire bottle before she passed out in a drunken
stupor. She would regret this in the morning, but for now it erased all the
pain of the last few days.

Chapter Eight

Karlyn awoke with heavy sunlight streaming through the huge
skylights that lined the ceiling above her studio area. She usually loved the
natural light that came into this space, but considering the weights rolling
around in her head, she begged for shade.
Why,
oh why, did I do that to myself...again
?

Struggling to raise herself from the pillow, her back ached from
the awkward sleeping arrangement. A nice spot to sit and contemplate her next
stroke, it wasn’t meant to sleep on. In her drunken state last night, she
really hadn’t cared, but she wasn’t sure which part of her body hurt more this
morning. Another few days of living with Ethan would break her completely.

As soon as she sat up, her vid screen rang, making her cover her
ears with her hands. She dragged herself up from the floor slowly, trying to
get the incessant ringing to stop. Slapping her hand over the call switch, she
saw Sam’s face lit up the screen.

“Morning, Sunshine!”

“Go to Hell.”

“Oooohh…from the looks of you, I think you took care of that trip
yourself. So, am I to assume no baloney pony for you last night? From what I
have heard, most women have a smile on their face afterwards, versus looking
like death warmed over.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence and telling me I look like
crap. It is entirely appreciated. So what are you calling to nag me about today?”

“Nag you? Well, I understand that a certain artist I know just
got a
huge
commission thanks to her
incredibly sexy, intelligent, considerate best friend, and I thought that
artist would probably be interested in going out to lunch to celebrate with
said friend.”

Karlyn grimaced, knowing that with Sam’s help, she may have
turned a corner in her career, and that Sam was the only one trying to help her
make that happen. She had no right to take her grumpiness out on her best
friend. But like the old saying said, you always hurt the ones you love. “I’m
sorry. You are absolutely right. I’m just out of sorts this morning. Let me
shower and wake up, maybe take about twenty pain pills and then we can get some
lunch. Say in about an hour or two?”

“Darling, it is already one in the afternoon. Why don’t we make
it dinner then? That will give you time to medicate that fuzzy brain of yours
and attempt to shave the hair off your tongue too?”

“Lovely visual there, Sam, thanks. Leave it to you.”

“But of course. You know you love me. And how about we make
things interesting and you bring your little boy toy along so I can check him
out?”

“That would require me to be in his presence. I would rather it
just be you and I.”

“Well, here’s the thing. You won him. You practically own him. If
you say jump, he should ask you how high. And for him to fulfill his end of the
bargain, aka sexing you up, you have to be in his presence. Plus, I have the
balls to knock him down a peg or two for you.”

“Sam, I can wage my own battles.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like you can. So, will you be joining AA
after the year with him? What a way to fight a battle.”

Karlyn looked at the screen and snarled. “Fine, I’ll bring him. And
you can attack away, because I haven’t got the energy to do it today.”

The pair made arrangements to meet for dinner at a trendy new
café in Karlyn’s neighborhood. Walking downstairs to find Ethan, she was
shocked to see him seated in a chair at the bottom of the stairs. He had
obviously been listening to the conversation from the anger etched in every
line in his face.

Looking at him made her eyes hurt, not so much from the alcohol
she had drank the night before, but for the fact he was so visually stunning. It
was just her luck to win the booby prize.

As she descended the last stair, she stood in front of him. He
eyed her, with his normal malice. “So you overheard the conversation?”

“How could I not? I was about to walk up again and see if you had
finally awoken from your wine induced coma when the vid rang. And your friend
isn’t exactly quiet.”

“Will you come to dinner?”

Ethan looked up at her with anger. “Why bother asking? Remember,
you say jump, I ask how high.”

“Because I don’t work that way. I do not plan on treating you
like an object. My friend Sam would like to meet and interrogate you, like she
does to every other person in my life. But you do have a choice in the matter. If
I force you to go, you will just be that much more rude and nasty to us. If you
come of your own volition, maybe I can avoid a little of your wrath.”

Ethan grimaced at her comments. He paused, staring at the floor
contemplatively. After a deep breath, he the slight smile in his voice as he
answered made her rethink her initial assumption, “I would enjoy meeting your
friend and celebrating your success.”

Karlyn eyed him suspiciously. Not sure how to comment, or if he
was just playing her, she just stared for several moments. Finally finding her
voice, she spoke. “I need to soak in the tub for a while and try to cure this
hangover. But please give me privacy for a couple of hours.”

He stood. “Absolutely. I have an errand to run anyway. And I
promise to announce when I’m home. Or maybe not.” Ethan walked towards the door,
a knowing smile lighting his face as he glanced over his shoulder at her. . Karlyn
stood watching the door for a few moments after he had disappeared through it,
replaying his last comment over in her head. It just sounded so wrong, yet so
right all at the same time…
when I am home
.

****

Ethan sat on the corner of Bailey’s bed, looking at her pale face
as she slept. Once her surgery occurred, he would know if the humiliation of
selling his body would save her. Even if it didn’t, he would do it all over
again for a second chance.

Recalling one of the last Christmases they had all shared as a
family, Ethan remembered how young and ignorant he had been about life. He had
thought nothing could hurt him or anyone he loved. The world had been handed to
him on a silver platter and he took and took. His parents shouldn’t have
spoiled him so much; maybe he would have appreciated what he had had then.

It took the death of his parents for him to realize the power of
family and for him to finally take responsibility. The fear he held inside, the
fear he would lose his sister, gnawed at him, and drove him to near madness. He
knew that it was possible that this surgery would not work, and that ate him up
inside. She was his last tie to being human, and he shuddered at the thought of
who he might become if she left this world and him alone in it.

Taking Bailey’s limp hand in his, he prayed for the first time in
his life. He wasn’t sure if there really was a God, or if that God would listen
to a man like him, but it was all he had. He couldn’t lose the only person who
cared if he lived or died.

Bailey’s eyelids lifted. Squeezing his hand, she smiled. “My
brother, lost in prayer? Can’t be.”

Opening one eye and peering down at her, he smiled, “Of course
not.”

“So, how are you?”

“I’m fine, of course. But, I should be asking you that question.”

“You really do worry too much, Ethan. I am fine. Tired, but fine.
And in a few more days I will be even better and on the road to recovery. So
let’s not worry and make ourselves sick. How about we change the subject? How
is your new benefactor doing?”