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His kiss is the essence of vitality. Against my will, I feel pieces of me on the inside come back to life with a vengeance. His tongue delves into my mouth, and it makes me hungry for more of him. I shouldn’t give up this easily. I should slam my barriers back into place somehow and walk away. But I’m so tired of feeling dead on the inside. Even if it is just for a short while, I want to live … to feel … to experience something good in life instead of drowning in the bad.
This man is my temporary life jacket. I’m going to take what he so obviously wants to give me for a few hours so I can feel more than dead on the inside.
Letting my desires drive me, I reach up and grab both sides of his neck. I can feel his heartbeat thumping wildly against my hands, and it invigorates me.
I thrust my tongue in his mouth and revel in his taste. We are breathing each other’s air, pressed so tightly together we are molding into one being, and God do I want to fall into this man and not come out.
His hands slide down to my hips, pulling me with him as he takes slow, careful steps back into the living room. Before I know it, he stops, and I pull my lips from his to take a much-needed breathe and see where he has led us.
To the couch.
The backs of his knees are touching the leather, but he doesn’t move to sit down. Not yet, at least. He reaches up under the hem of my T-shirt and grabs the material, slowly pulling it up and off. Then he drops it on the floor and moves his gaze back down to stare at what he has bared.
My breathing is a bit frenzied, pushing my breasts against the cups of my black silk demi bra, my nipples almost popping out altogether. Ethan raises one of his fists and gently runs his knuckles over the swell, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Then both hands glide across my ribs just underneath my breasts, and he trails his fingers down my abdomen to the button of my jeans.
Suddenly, he jerks his head up, and his eyes clash with my own. There is a question in them: do I stop?
Hell no, I don’t want him to stop.
My teeth nibble my bottom lip as I take one of my hands and undo the button of my jeans for him, giving him my unspoken answer that I’m ready for what it is he wants to give me.
God, I am so fucking ready.
The side of his lips tilt up as he unzips my jeans before sliding his hands down into them and down my hips, dragging the rough denim material until I can feel his fingers gliding down my legs.
He tickles the backs of my knees, and I can’t help giggling. His half-grin spreads into a full smile, and the sight warms something a whole lot higher in my chest that I probably shouldn’t allow to get involved in this.
Oh, well.
Ethan slides the jeans off my legs, lifting one foot at a time until I’m standing in nothing except the black thong that matches my bra. Still crouched in front of me, he isn’t looking at my panties, but at my face. There is something there I can’t read, or maybe I just don’t want to acknowledge it. It’s more than a desire. Possession?
It’s not safe for any man to want me.
My doubts creep back in.
When I try to take a step back, his hands stop me by grabbing the backs of my knees.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, Ethan. I’m not exactly little, and I don’t wanna hurt you.” Even to my own ears, I can hear the words as a feeble excuse to get away.
“Babe, there’s not enough of you to hurt me. But so you’ll feel better, I’ll make a deal. I’ll let you ride me a little while so I don’t overdo it, but then I’m gonna flip you over and ride you.”
Good gravy. I’m pretty sure, after that statement, he will be able to see the wet spot on my panties. As badly as I want him, though, I still have to make sure he wants this as much as I do.
“You know this will complicate things between us, right?”
He smooths his hands up the backs of my legs until he is gripping my ass. Leaning forward, he kisses the spot above my belly button before resting his chin on my tummy, looking up at me through the valley of my breasts.
“Life is complicated, sugar. It’s supposed to be. If it were easy, then the good moments—like this one between us—wouldn’t taste so damn sweet. So stop worrying about what is or isn’t gonna happen and let me make you feel good. You need it as much as I want it. I won’t lie, though; I’m hoping you want it as much as you need it.”
