I clutched the glass of bourbon in one hand, but burrowed the other up under his shirt, skimming my fingertips over the smooth skin that was decorated with scars, covering the hardened muscle beneath. The rapid thump in his chest mimicked mine and was proof we were alive.
Fuck, I hadn’t felt this alive in years.
My breathing had gone so ragged, I’d had to pause the kiss, but he continued. He tilted his head so his lips could travel down the side of my neck and suck on the sensitive spot just below my ear.
“Your hair,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my skin. “The color looks good on you.”
It was like he’d figured out what his compliments did to me, and now he wasn’t playing fair. I was off balance and veering toward free-fall. So, I straightened and leaned back in his lap, putting space between us. I did it to try to get a handle on myself but pretended it was only so I could take another sip from my glass.
I stared down, drinking in the sight of Ethan just as much as my bourbon. His strong jaw was dark with stubble, and his eyes were hazy with desire, and the craving I had for him was brutal. When I tried to set the glass down on the coffee tablebehind me, he sat up, took it from me, and drained the rest of it in one large swallow.
The glass thudded loudly against the wood of the tabletop as he plunked it down, and as soon as his hands were free, he grasped the hem of my shirt. I was barely able to lift my arms in time as he stripped it off and flung it aside.
Then his fingers curled around one of the straps of my bra and tugged it from my shoulder, peeling a bra cup down until my breast was exposed.
But only for a second, because his hand covered my bare skin, gripping me. Squeezing and caressing and making the need inside me acute. I set a hand behind me on his knee and arched my back into his touch, encouraging him.
He let out a sound of approval, a deep groan from his chest, and it was so sexy, I shivered.
The lights were on, and I was nearly topless, and yet... the anxiety about my scarred back was nowhere to be found.
It was a thousand degrees in the room when he dropped his head and latched his mouth around my nipple. The swirl of his tongue, the gentle pull of suction... it fogged my brain. It made my fingers clumsy as I undid the latch on my bra, but eventually the band sprung free and I pulled it from my body. Before it hit the floor, he had a hand on my other breast.
His grip was firm, and his thumb flicked over my hardened nipple, all while his mouth teased the other. I wove my fingers through his hair, holding his head in place as he feasted on me. My heart raced. My skin flushed. I fell deeper under his spell.
He used his hold to push my breasts together, allowing him to drag the tip of his tongue across my skin, gliding from one nipple to the other and back again.
It felt so good, but getting to watch him do it too? It left me breathless.
He sucked, hollowing his cheeks, and I felt the pull of it everywhere, but strongest between my legs. I ached for satisfaction, so I rocked my hips, grinding against the bulgethat was growing hard beneath the fly of his pants. The rub of my body against his was so pleasurable, we gasped together.
I did it again, and again, andagain?—
His hands abandoned my bare breasts so he could capture my waist and lock me in place. “Fuck,” he growled. “You want me to come in my pants?”
I grinned in surprise, then shook my head.
His dark eyes were scorching as he gave me the gaze I’d begun to hunger for whenever we weren’t together. No man had ever looked at me this way, and I’d never want another man to try. It wouldn’t compare.
Ethan’s expression burned with lust. Passion. Desire.
“Do you want to move to the bed?” I asked and glanced beyond him to the king-sized bed that was maybe eight feet from the couch.
“Too far away,” he said, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “I think I’ll fuck you right here.”
I nodded eagerly because this was the best plan I’d ever heard. “Okay.”
Our mouths collided, our tongues slicking together, and his arms banded around me. I held on while he lifted and turned us on the couch, laying me down on my back across the seat cushions. He stood beside me, tore his shirt up over his head, and planted one knee between my legs, moving to get on the couch.
I’d thought this was the best idea ever, until I remembered how enormous he was, but—whatever. I was sure we’d figure it out. I latched my fingers on the button at his fly, undid it, and tugged the zipper down in the time it took him to reach for the button to my pants.
As he began to undo it, I shoved my hand inside his pants, beneath the waistband of his underwear, and wrapped my fingers around him. He was so warm, and thick, and hard. I gave him one long, slow stroke and enjoyed the way he jerked and flexed inside my grip.
“Shit,” he groaned. “You’re making it really hard for me to stay on task.”
I hesitated. “What?”
He finally popped the button on my slacks and inched the zipper down. “I didn’t get to finish what I started in South Africa.” His expression dripped with sex. “Remember? When I had my mouth,” his fingers delved inside to touch me through my underwear, “righthere?”
