A sharp breath cuts through my lips.Great.Now I feel like a jerk for making light of this when he’s genuinely scared for my safety.Between that and what happened to his friend Leo, it’s no wonder Ethan is wound so tightly.
He drags his hands down his jean-clad thighs.“I’m not always going to be here, Chloe.Please promise me you’ll start locking your door.”
I watch him for a moment, taking in how serious he seems.Is this what it’s like to have someone looking out for you?Worrying over your wellbeing?Protecting you?I never had that with Rick, and my mom was always too busy hating her ex-husband to be too concerned with me.
Warmth curls through my chest.It’s kind of nice.
Shadows from the setting sun stretch across the floor as I walk over to the couch.Ethan leans back, an unreadable expression on his face and his gaze fixed on me as I climb onto his lap and drape my arms over his broad shoulders.
“I’m sorry that happened to your brother,” I say.His eyes darken, tracking my every move as I ease forward to whisper against his lips, “I will start locking my door.I promise.”
Calloused hands cup my backside, long fingers kneading.“Thank you,” he whispers gruffly.“I just want you to be safe.”
My hips rock against his, the bulge in his jeans thickening with each needy movement.“I feel safe with you.”
Our breaths mingle, passing between us as our mouths graze.
“Do you?”he asks.
I hum a yes against his lips, holding my breath as his hands slide to my waist, slipping beneath my tank top on their northward journey, taking the fabric with them.
“Good.Arms up,” he commands.
I lift my hands over my head, my breaths becoming labored as he pulls off the shirt, tossing it next to our forgotten dinner.
Ethan catches my bra straps in his fingers, dragging them down my shoulders and pressing hot, open-mouth kisses to my scar while his hands trace my mermaid tattoo before finding the clasp at my back.
“I probably taste like sweat,” I murmur.Thank goodness for the emergency deodorant and perfume in my office.
His hair tickles my cheek when he shakes his head.“You taste fucking incredible.”As if reiterating his point, his tongue traces down the swell of my breast, dipping beneath the cups of my white lace bra.
I roll my hips, earning a groan from Ethan, his breath panting against my skin.With a flick of his wrist, my bra falls away, and he captures my nipple between his lips.
I rock harder, seeking more friction, but it’s still not enough.I need the heat of his body melting against mine.I give his shoulders a little push and he falls back against the couch, his brow tight with frustration.
I snag the bottom of his T-shirt and tug upward, exposing the tanned expanse of his abdomen.“Arms up,” I say with a smirk, watching him comply with the same order he threw my way.His shirt lands on top of mine, and when he leans forward, my stiff nipples drag against the light dusting of hair on his muscled chest.
With one hand braced on my hip, Ethan urges me to rock back and forth, finding a steady rhythm while he cups my breast, bringing the stiff peak back to his waiting lips.“So good, baby,” he groans against my skin.“Just like that.Roll those hips.”
I feel like a goddess as he worships me, his gruff praise sending sparks of lust shooting down my spine.“More,” I gasp.
“Greedy, girl, aren’t you?”
When it comes to him?“Always.”
“Should I take these off?”He hooks a finger through my belt loop.
“Yes.”Apparently, I’m down to one-word answers.
“Stand up.”
I pop off his lap and reach for the button on my shorts.Ethan’s fingers find my wrist.“Let me.”
Far be it for me to get in his way.I shift my weight from one foot to the other, almost dying with anticipation as he unfastens the clasp and peels down my shorts and cotton panties at the same time.With a groan of approval, Ethan leans back and spreads his legs wider, adjusting his thick cock inside his jeans.
Before I can lunge for his button and zipper, he twirls his index finger in the air.“Turn around.”
I feel like one of those little ballerinas in the jewelry boxes as I spin on my heel, offering him my back.Large hands bracket my waist, gliding down to knead my backside.
