Nope, couldn’t think about what he was used to. Guilt was not welcome in that hotel room on that night. He had a job to do—and he couldn’t exactly complain about it.
“You don’t have to try very hard,” he said dryly.
It was true—he was pretty sure if she could get him going while crying in a room full of onlookers, she wasn’t going to have any trouble turning him on half-naked in a hotel room.
Her smile weakened a little. “Are you having second thoughts?”
Second thoughts? Try tenth and eleventh thoughts. Instead of being honest, he merely shook his head. “Are you?” he asked.
Dropping her eyes to his chest, she shook her head as well. He got the feeling they were both lying, but neither of them wanted to admit it.
“What do you like?” she suddenly asked.
“What?” he returned, not expecting her to ask that.
She bit down on her bottom lip and met his gaze. “Sexually. What do you like?”
His throat literally clogged up—how long had it been since he had heard that? Many, many years, certainly. There were answers, of course—lots of answers, but none that he felt comfortable enough to tell her.
His gaze darted to the phone on the night stand. Of course he had turned it off, and it hadn’t magically turned itself back on and dialed her number.
Looking dejected, Willow suddenly sat down beside him on bed. “I’m sorry, I’m not good at this. I’ve never had to do this before and I… don’t know what I’m doing. I thought that was the right thing to ask.”
Instantly feeling like a heel, he sighed and said, “No, Willow, it’s not that. It’s not you. You’re…gorgeous and wonderful and any man in the world would be lucky to be here with you right now, even just to be teased and tormented.”
She stole a sideways glance at him, looking a little more uncertain. “Then what is it?”
He contemplated coming up with something or brushing it off, but he didn’t want to lie to her. So, even though he knew he could be ending their little exercise early by saying so, Ethan said, “I shouldn’t be here.”
Not disagreeing, Willow nodded. “Probably true.”
He merely nodded, not sure what else to say. All of the reasons were perfectly obvious; they didn’t need to be spoken.
When he didn’t continue, she added, “And yet, here you are.”
“Here I am,” he verified, meeting her gaze.
“If you don’t… want to do this anymore, that’s okay. I know it’s kind of weird. I know you didn’t need it, because you’re experienced, you don’t have a…bad first taste in your mouth, so to speak. But for me, this… even just the little bit that already happened… it makes me feel better. It makes me feel more confident that I will be able to regain control of my sexuality. Any discomfort I’ve felt since coming into this room, it hasn’t been because of what happened, it’s just been normal… virginal uncertainty. I don’t want you to feel obligated to me in any way.”
Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but he wasn’t altogether sure what to say. For a moment, he said nothing, then he said, “I wish I was sitting here because I felt obligated to you in some way.”
Willow looked over at him for a moment, just holding his gaze, then she stood, moved back in front of him and sat down in his lap, winding her right arm around his neck and using the other one to unbutton the top couple of buttons of his shirt.
“Touch me,” she ordered.
After only the slightest hesitation, he let his hand drop to the curve of her hip, then lightly trailed his fingers down her soft leg to her kneecap. Watching her face instead of her body, he pulled his finger up the inside of her thigh, stopping just short of the hem of her panties. As he watched her, she swallowed hard, licked her lips, and looked at him again with hungry eyes that made him want to throw her down on the bed and fuck her until she was crying out his name in ecstasy.
Fuck all the reasons he couldn’t do that.
Since he still wanted to, and he wasn’t sure how much she wanted to be touched, he braced his hands on the edge of the bed and shoved himself backward until he wasn’t so close to the edge, then he turned so that he was diagonal on the bed and lifted Willow, repositioning her so that she was straddling him.
Taking the lead, Willow finished unbuttoning his shirt and tugged it open, her brow furrowing in displeasure at the undershirt he was wearing beneath it.
Chuckling warmly, he took off the dress shirt and then pulled the undershirt over his head, tossing it bedside and taking her firmly by the hips, holding her there as he pushed against her, letting her feel his arousal. That time she didn’t gasp; her fingers found the closure of his pants and she began undoing them.
Slightly alarmed, he considered telling her they should probably leave his pants on, but then, the point was that she wanted to push him however far she thought was far enough to prove he would still stop. So, despite his better judgment, he lifted his hips and let her slide them down his legs and off, tossing them off the side of the bed as well.
Clad only in his boxer briefs, she took a moment to just look at him. Since he made an effort to get to the gym several times a week—an effort he was happy about just then—he had maintained a lean, muscular physique. A dusting of dark hair covered his chest, but not much.