In the gathering dark of night, the Davies home glowed like a beacon in its little corner lot, a long flat stretch of the property surrounded by naked trees. The leaves stripped from the branches to blanket the lawn in the fading glory of fall.

Strange how this time Alyssa experienced a hum of thrill and excitement to visit the home and when the doors opened and hands ushered them inside, there was none of her previous awkwardness or anxiety. The faces, all kind and smiling felt right. Familiar. She hugged and kissed and laughed and smiled, fell into conversation—like she belonged. Like she fit into this perfect little picture.

After dinner the table was cleared and cards whipped out, Marshall dealt the hand for poker and Alyssa watched, interested as Ethan pulled up a chair to join the rabble and banter between family.

Ethan's gaze found her over the edge of his beer, an intimate kind of look that had her heart flutter and her belly flip.

"You going to play?" he asked, nodding to the empty set at his side.

"I'll watch," she said, enjoying her perch on the sidelines.

Chips piled in the middle of the table with the scattered mound of cards as the game swept into a dead heat, where winning or losing hinged on a flicker of the eyes or purse of the lips—giving away a bluff that could cost anyone the thrill of victory and bragging right that followed.

"Fold," Jenelle sighed, turning over her cards. Smiled at the playful ribbing of her dad's elbow as he drummed his fingers to signal a hit.

Marshall whisked a card to him which he plucked up and set in his hand, rearranging without so much as a flicker in his eyes to give anything away. "Call," he said, nodding to Ethan as Eva slid her arms around Marshall's shoulders, lowered so they were cheek to cheek. His hand lovingly stroked her arm. They were so right together it was beautiful to behold. That easy kind of love and affection. It warmed her and made her insides ache.

Too caught up in her bittersweet longing, Ethan tugged on her hand, and unprepared, Alyssa tumbled into his lap. He caught her neatly, swiveling her around, an arm banded around her waist, the other fanning out his hand of cards for her to see.

"It's down to me and Marshall. I could use the second set of eyes," he said, anchoring her against him when she tried to make a point of getting away. Though it wasn't exactly secret that she and Ethan was seeing one another at this point, she'd been careful to maintain a respectful boundary while in his familial home. A point of respect and propriety coupled with the fact that she didn't want to be a center of any speculation or interest.

Apparently her keeping distance hadn't gone unnoticed by Ethan and he made a point of staking his claim. Challenging her. Eva's knowing smirk said that Alyssa's best bet was to accept defeat and go along with it or create more of a fuss by resisting.

Fine, she thought with a competitive spark. If he wants to play this game. So be it. If he wanted to push boundaries, so could she. Aware of the curious exchange of glances, Alyssa made a point of studying the cards he held while her hand stealthily dipped below the edge of the table.

"I think you can take him. Go all in," she said, misdirecting attention while her unseen fingers traced the ribbed edge of Ethan's zipper. "And these, as well." He didn't move, didn't flinch, but beneath her thighs his muscles coiled, bunched. The curved seam between his leg went rigid as concrete. She stroked him again, palmed him. That same rigidness shot up to his chest, through his arms.

"That's a bold move," he said, voice steady.

"I think he's bluffing."

"You think so?"

"Know so."

He cupped his hand over his mouth as if to whisper conspiratorially and surprised her with an unexpected sweep of his tongue along the sensitive curve behind her ear.

That little suggestive whisper was simple, innocuous, but Alyssa trembled. Throat dry and tight. His point was clear. How was that for bluffing? He'd called her out, and she had to fold or risk losing to a better hand. Her smile was swift, and immediate as she moved her hand, conceding defeat.

"I call your fifty and go all in," Ethan said, revealing a solid flush to counter Marshall's two pair.

"Well played," she said, the praise having nothing to do with the string of cards Ethan laid out on the table, winning the pot. And she didn't have to look around to know that Ethan was smiling too.

She could hear it in his voice when he said, "I thought so, too." 

The lights flickered off as the kitchen doors whispered open and Lottie stepped out, the entire room fell silent for a hushed second before rising into a roaring and badly harmonized chorus of Happy Birthday.

Confused and startled by the sudden shift, Alyssa jerked against Ethan and hastily joined in with the song. Flushed with joy, Eva rose to kiss Lottie on the cheek. Only then did it strike Alyssa that the song—the cake—all of it, was for her and Eva.

"Go on," Ethan said, giving her thigh a tap as he coaxed her up onto stiff legs. The cake, a gorgeous confection topped with what appeared to be whipped cream and strawberries was set down on the table, the candles lit and flames dancing.

"But..." Blinking, she looked to her sister. Their birthday had passed months ago, and to avoid the disappointment and heartache of celebrating alone, Alyssa had made considerable efforts to ignore it as best she could every single year.

"She insisted," Eva said, leaning in to her, she took hold of Alyssa's hand with a squeeze.

"Go on," Lottie urged with a wave of her hands. "Before we get wax all over it."

Standing with her sister, they blew out candle and doled out slices of cake. Forking into her own slice, Alyssa couldn't believe they'd all gone to such trouble and effort. The cake was delicious and so happened to be her favourite; she didn't need to ask how Lottie knew or why she would have gone to such effort on her behalf. It was touching and profound that as the party wound down, Alyssa excused herself to the kitchen where she decided to take care of some of the tidying up while Lottie was distracted in the living room.

She knew firsthand and appreciated how much work went into organizing such affairs. Alyssa had always played the hostess with the family events, running around and picking up empties and discarded plates. It soothed her. Calmed her. That simple, easy task of setting everything to rights. Maybe it was about control, Alyssa mused, as she gathered and collected, dumping bits of food or crumpled napkins into a large garbage bag, hauling glasses and plates to the sink.

Control was often an illusion, but a vital one, she realized, especially when the rest of her life was still so far off kilter, handling this made her feel secure.

Laughter and voices continued to roar from the adjacent room, and it warmed her heart to hear it. She'd missed this. The closeness of family and tradition and gathering together for no reason at all but to share in each other's company. She'd had this once, in what felt like a lifetime ago—memories that so sharply contrasted her recent present, they were almost jagged and hurt every time she reached for them. Slicing deep until emotions spilled like blood. Thick and flowing and hard to stop.

As the bag was full to overflowing, Alyssa knotted the top, rooted around under the sink for a fresh one and set it out, ready for the next wave—as there was likely to be with the gathering still in full swing and showing no signs of slowing down. God, how wonderful would it be if it continued to swell throughout the night—that joy, love and laughter—carrying them through until dawn.

At the sink, Alyssa turned on the faucet, filling the second basin with warm water. Doling in a healthy amount of dish soap, she set to hand washing the stack of dishes. The least she could do for Lottie. The woman was a beacon of light and energy; welcoming Alyssa into her home as if she'd always belonged here. As if she'd always been one of them.

She could see why Eva adored her so much. As well as the rest of the family. It was hard not to get sucked in to that comfort, warm and endearing as a cozy little flame. Lost in that thought, Alyssa set her mind to the task of washing, humming a cheerful little melody as she worked and dreamed.

#

She looked so right there, Ethan thought, watching her from the doorway. Standing at his mother's sink, humming softly to herself. Head cocked to the side as if lost in some deep thought. And he surprised himself by hoping that the secret little smile in her voice had something to do with him.

Leading away from the threshold, Ethan drew up behind her. Pleased by the little jolt that kicked through her body as his hands slid around her waist. He liked the way she felt in his arms. She fit nicely against him. Well matched in height so he didn't need to bend or stoop, all of her curves and contours dipping and molding to fit and fill, like two pieces of a puzzle clicking together.

He set his lips to the smooth curve where her throat met her shoulder, skimmed that same spot with his teeth. "I was wondering where you were hiding."

His voice was a thick, low rumble, the sound vibrated through her. Warming her. Turning her muscles to loose, liquid need. God, his voice was sexy. As was his body. His smell. She wanted to wrap herself around him. To wear him like a second skin. His hands toyed with the lines of her hips, rubbing up and down and across. Slowly.

Eyes closed, Alyssa's head tipped back, fell heavy against his broad shoulder. God his hands...they were magic on her skin. The weight of them through the thin layer of her shirt was maddening. Unconsciously her hips rocked back, pressing against him, seeking more contact. More friction. Just more.

Laughter slid out of him, all provocation and intent as the arm banded around her waist shifted, his hand gliding across the smooth line of skin exposed where shirt didn't quite meet her jeans. Unfastening the top button, peeling down the zipper, his hand dove beneath, skin to skin to moist heat.

Gasping, Alyssa's mouth angled to his, searching, beckoning. Ethan claimed her with a slow urgency, a steady sweep and stroke to match what he was doing to her below.

God if someone found them like this, with his hand down her pants, his mouth hungry and hot on hers...the thought mortified and aroused all at the same time. She got wet, so incredibly wet. A sound hummed in Ethan's throat, a heady, delicious note of satisfaction and lust.

"I want you upstairs," he whispered. A nip of teeth. A glide of lips. "I want you in the bed I used to sleep in. There, wrapped up in memories and fantasies, I want you weak and begging." His fingers slid into her, probing. Pressing. A glorious, teasing slide that had Alyssa's knees waver, weaken.

That slow, winding build was happening. Her soapy fingers circled around his wrist, urging him on, the other threaded through his dark hair, holding him where she wanted him for another deep, searing kiss.

Her orgasm came gradually but bright. Shockingly bright. A flash that stole her breath.

Ethan held there for a moment, just holding her as the waves of her pleasure eased and the ripples bled out. It was the most beautiful thing, he thought, the most perfect thing. So powerful and intimate.

Smiling, he kissed the tip of her nose, stared deep into heavily lidded eyes, drowsy with pleasure.

"Stay with me here tonight," he said. He saw the flicker of interest and the glimmer of doubt as she glanced towards the closed door—to where the sound of his family poured in through the seams.

"We can't. Someone would ask questions. It would draw too much attention," she said though she didn't pull away or loosen her hold. For all her posturing, she wanted him as bad as he wanted her and knowing that pleased him. He puzzled over her point of concern for a minute when a wicked idea took root. Smirking, he kissed her quickly before letting her go to haul the heavy bag of ice out of the freezer. Opening the back door, he tossed it out into a pile of snow by the side of the house to keep it cold.

Satisfied, Ethan dusted his hands. "Mom," he called out, winking at Alyssa. "We're out of ice. Be back in twenty."

Before she could find the voice to protest, Ethan snatched her hand, dragging her up the back stairs. They creaked and groaned but the noise from below masked most of the sounds. Reaching the top of the second flight, taking the door at the end of the corridor, Ethan popped the door open and stepped back for her to go in first.

Closing the door, he watched as she leisurely took it all in. The hunter green walls and warm wood trim. The frosted windows, too dark to see out, but Ethan knew the view stretched over the back yard dappled with trees. Beige curtains drawn to let in the glow of moonlight. The room was cozy, sparsely furnished though much hadn't changed from when he was a kid.

"So this is your room." Turning, she smiled at him, arms crossed. "This is where you grew up."

"More or less." Crossing from the door, Ethan hooked his hands in his pockets, slumped on the edge of the bed. "This is new though. Old one wasn't so big. And was a noisy bastard. This on the other hand..." Ethan gave a little bounce, a devious smirk tugging on his lips. Not a squeak or sound. Only quiet.

Reaching for her, Ethan snagged her by the waist, tugged her down on to his lap. The weight of her settling against him was so easy and familiar, so right it made him wonder how he'd gone for so long without knowing this. Feeling this.

"What are you doing?" she giggled as Ethan shifted on the bed to draw back the covers.

"Tucking you in. It's late," Ethan said, nibbling around her mouth. "And you're too tired to drive."

Alyssa snorted. "It's only just after midnight."

His head pulled back a fraction, a wolfish smile dancing in his eyes. "Correction—you're going to be too tired to drive."

"We've only got twenty minutes, remember?" And moan as he tugged a shoulder free so his teeth could nip the sensitive curve.

"I've got all night," Ethan corrected. His hands skimmed over her hips and up—up, to cup and squeeze and caress. Stoking her to life. Awakening embers of lust and need. "Everyone's already forgotten about us. Close your eyes, Alyssa. Forget. Feel."

As if she could do anything but obey, even in this kind of quiet, steady calm. His mouth sought hers and everything about it was slow. Thorough. Long, controlled licks that dragged her deeper. Deeper. He was like the sea at night, all calm dark waters and she was caught in the current beneath the placid surface. Endless. Fathomless. And in him she drowned. A glorious, spiraling fall as she sank to the mattress, his body pouring over hers. The weight of him settling between her thighs.

Impatient, needy, they wrestled with layers until skin met scorching skin, need met demanding need, notching himself Ethan plunged hard and hot, driving with greedy strokes that pushed them both beyond reason. Beyond caring.

This. This right here was all he'd ever want. All he'd ever need. There was nothing and no one beyond this moment and his heart was too full with feeling. Alyssa's legs wound around his waist, her hands scored across his back. Begging him.

"Ethan," she moaned and god, hearing it—that glorious thrill, as she neared that pinnacle—made him feel like a god.

"I'm there," he whispered, driving her higher. Faster. "I'm there with you." He drank in her cries, her heavy breaths, each one pouring into his heart. Into his soul.

And when she fell, he tumbled with her.