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“You’re perfect, Krissy. And if you’ll let me, I’ll show you just how perfect you are. How perfect we can be together,” he says with a determination that’s catchy.
And in a second, we’re right back where we left off.
His mouth over mine. His rippling muscles flex as he grips me tight.
Kissing me so hard and so deep, I never knew it was possible he could make me feel any better.
And I hope he’s true to his word about never stopping once he has kissed me because this is what I want.
He’s all any girl could ever want.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ethan
I don’t have a plan past finding her again, so when I do, it’s just another clear sign that all this is meant to be.
Krissy doesn’t scream or tell me to leave when I turn up at her apartment, waking her from her much-needed sleep.
Without her having to say it, I feel that she’s been waiting for me in the same way I’ve been searching for her.
And we could talk all night about whether we should or shouldn’t. But once my mouth’s over hers?
Once her breasts are pressing hard into my body as we kiss, we both know that there’s no turning back.
And this man who knows what he wants has more than just kisses in mind for his queen.
But when my hands start to explore her incredible body, she freezes up once I slide them up under her sweater, her heavy chest fitting my large hands like a seasoned catcher’s mitt.
“Cold hands?” I joke, but her hands flatten on my chest, the look in her eyes as she stares up at me, tells me it’s not just that.
“Too fast?” I conclude, and with a shivering breath, she gives a short nod.
But at the same time, when I go to move my hands, she pouts and holds them to her heaving chest. Her pebbled nipples are like hot rivets under my thumb and forefingers.
“I just…I mean…,” she wheezes, breathing so hard and fast it’s easy to see she wants so much it might just be hard for her to know exactly where we should start.
“What did Mr. Bannon mean…about the rent, about not evicting me?” she asks.
So suddenly off-topic, I almost groan from frustration. But I temper my feelings and shift my hands to take hers in mine. I simply tell her it’s been taken care of.
“You didn’t give him any money, though?” she asks, a tone of defiance in her voice.
She’s a strong girl, Krissy. Fiercely independent, and once she catches the look of guilt on my face, I can tell she’s not impressed.
Not in the way I thought she would be.
“I just didn’t want you to worry about it,” I explain. Not even minding she’s a little annoyed I’ve helped her out.
She’s fucking cute when she’s mad.
“You don’t have to worry about rent, money, or work or anything ever again, Krissy,” I tell her firmly, holding her face in both hands, and moving in for another kiss.
But she’s not as quick to think the same things I’m thinking.
She is not able to see it yet because all she’s ever known is a struggle for no reward.
I know she’s into me physically, no denying her own body’s needs right now.
But she stops short of the idea of just stepping into a new life.
Especially with someone she’s only just met.
When I hear her out, I have to agree. But at the same time, I have to disagree.
“I can’t just have someone paying for everything,” she groans.
“If I was evicted or not, I still have to find the money to pay rent, here or someplace else, even to eat. I still have to go to work,” she sighs.
Closing her eyes tight, I can read her mind like it’s an open book.
She’s already worried about her next shift. Already worrying about the dead-end future that would be her life if she stays here, doing what she’s always done.
Just getting by but never getting ahead.
I don’t want our first night together to be an argument either. So I scramble to think of what we can do or say that would make her feel better about things.
“It’s sudden,” I tell her thinking aloud. “But don’t tell me you don’t feel this thing between us? Wouldn’t we be crazy to pretend it wasn’t real? How can you go back to the same old routine and get a different result?” I ask her.
My words strike a nerve, and I’m quick to tell her that she’s not doing anything wrong by living her life as she has.
“I’m just telling you that you can relax. You can breathe easier now,” I offer.
“So, what? So you can pay for everything? So you can be in charge of me, is that it?” she replies hotly.
Her shoulders sag, and she catches herself before she says anything else. But I think there’s more to her being so defensive than just money.
