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Then his lips are on my neck and his hand is on me. The water makes his touch slippery. It's a different kind of pressure, softer and harder at once.
He starts with long, slow strokes. Every one sends a wave of pleasure through my torso. I hold onto his hips for balance, but it's not enough.
Ethan turns me around. It brings us face to face. There's more in his eyes than desire. I'm not sure I believe that it's possible for this to be a one-time thing.
But I don't want it to be a one-time thing.
I need more of him.
All of him.
He presses his lips to mine. The kiss starts soft then gets harder. His tongue slides into my mouth. One hand goes around my waist and holds me in place. The other slides between my legs to stroke me.
He goes right to the spot that always gets me off.
Two years and he remembers.
We haven't had sex since before Asher-
Ethan groans into my mouth. He pulls my body closer as his touch gets more insistent. I groan back and slide my hands around his neck.
Dammit, this feels so good.
I let go of my last conscious thought. My body takes over. My fingers dig into the hard muscles of his back. My tongue dances with his.
He still tastes like home.
The tension in my core knots. Every stroke of his fingers pulls it tighter and tighter. So tight I have to break free of his kiss to groan.
He drags his lips over my neck. His teeth scrape against my skin.
With his next stroke, I go over the edge. My sex pulses as I come. I can feel the orgasm everywhere. Pleasure spreads all the way to the top of my head and the very tips of my toes.
I should be asking myself what this means. I should be concerned by how much I want my ex to make me come again.
But I'm not.
For once, I'm in the moment. And it's a great fucking moment.
Ethan pulls my bikini back in place. His lips brush my ear. "I love watching you come."
I don't know what to say, so I kiss him.
I kiss him like I'll never get another chance to kiss him again.
Chapter Fourteen
Ethan
Taking it slow is fucking difficult. Especially with Violet in that tiny bikini, her body soft and pliable in my arms.
Somehow, I manage to drag myself away from her. Somehow, I manage to get back into my clothes for long enough to take her to dinner. The Mexican place we stumble into is amazing. The steak tacos are chewy and juicy with plenty of tart lime and sharp cilantro. I've been avoiding Mexican food since Violet left—a feat in southern California, where not liking tacos is akin to not liking breathing. Eating dripping street tacos with Violet is like coming home.
It feels right.
Feels comfortable the way my favorite pair of jeans does.
When we finish eating, we walk back to the hotel, hand in hand. It's like old times, when we were together.
