Page 13 of On Your Knees

“Have you ever been naked with another person?”

The heat that’s crept up my neck floods my face. I can’t bring myself to answer that. I have never, ever admitted that I’m a virgin. Not that anyone has ever asked.

I’m awkward and weird. I wouldn’t know what to do, and I’m not sexually motivated enough to try. I never have been. I don’t even jack off very often.

Fuck, why am I thinking about that right now? It’s not even what he asked.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I gasp.

“Which part?” Ethan asks, stepping in front of me, so close that my head tilts back to look up at him. “This part?” he asks, his dark eyes locked with mine as he takes hold of my jacket’s zipper and pulls it down.

I stand frozen, my heart racing, as he pushes the jacket off my shoulders. The knitted cuffs catch on my hands, which are still in my pockets. Without dropping eye contact, Ethan frees one of my hands, then the other. My jacket falls to the floor.

When Ethan’s fingers brush my stomach, I suck in a startled breath. He finds the hem of my T-shirt and tugs it upward. My arms lift automatically, like I’m not controlling them, like I’m under a spell. But when our eye contact breaks as Ethan pulls the shirt over my head, that spell breaks. Suddenly aware of myself again, I shiver and draw back.

Ethan catches me by the jaw. It’s not a firm grip. I could easily pull out of it. But something about the way he does this, like he did earlier, like he did last night, makes everything go still and quiet inside me.

“Are you all right?” he asks softly.

When I nod slightly against his hand, he lets go of my jaw and sinks down, crouching at my feet. Goosebumps erupt all over my body as he starts untying my laces.

I stare down at the top of Ethan’s head as he works. He’s got such beautiful dark brown hair. It’s wavy and about the length of mine but much better cut. Mine is shaggy and gross. My shoes are gross too. They’re old and faded and the left toe cap is cracked.

Finished untying, Ethan stands up.

Something about my face makes him scowl. He demands, “What just happened? You were fine and now you’re not.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to answer him. I don’t know how.

“Levi.”

The force of his demand gets words stuttering out of me. “I’m just… I don’t understand why you want me for this. I’m—”

When I cut myself off, his eyes narrow. “You’re what? Finish that sentence.”

“I’m gross.”

Absolute rage blazes in his eyes, but I don’t have time to react to it before he grabs me and spins me around. His arms hook around me to pull me hard against his body. One of his hands covers my throat, and his fingers dig into my jaw. I gasp in shock at the sudden, full-body contact. It’s so foreign to me that I can’t even react to it.

“Don’t you ever fucking say that again. Don’t ever think it.” The words are a furious, gritted-out hiss at my ear. “Do you understand me?”

I don’t. I don’t understand. And for some reason, him saying that, him cutting that off as not a possibility, makes my eyes start prickling.

“Who fucking said that to you?” Ethan demands.

I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to not cry. I’m shaking so hard that I would probably fall if Ethan weren’t holding me. God, he’s holding me. I don’t remember ever being held in my life. I don’t just hear Ethan breathing hard, I feel it. His chest is heaving against my back. His breath is feathering hot against my neck.

He insists, “There is nothing gross about you. You are completely beautiful, and whoever said that to you can fucking rot in hell.”

I’m so distracted by his words that I don’t fully register his fingers at the waistband of my jeans until the button pops.

As he tugs the zipper down, words bubble up, but instead of no or stop, I blurt in panic, “I haven’t shaved.”

“I don’t give a shit whether you’ve shaved,” he tells me as he shoves down my jeans and underwear, abruptly exposing my cock. I make a startled sound of protest, but it dies in my throat as Ethan growls in my ear, “Like I said, you’re fucking beautiful.”

I’m so overwhelmed and overstimulated that I can’t track, let alone process, everything happening in my body. I’m shaking, buzzing, hot and cold at the same time. There’s a strange, pressured feeling in my groin.

“You’re beautiful,” he says again. “That’s why I want to draw you.”