“What?” I ask.
Ethan gives me a smile.
“I weighed it all up,” he explains. “I realized that it would be so much easier to ignore any of this and go back to the way things were.”
My heart drops.
“But then I thought about what was more important,” Ethan continues. “You or that comfortable life.” His eyes meet mine, intense and determined. “You win.”
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s saying. My breath catches and tears pool in my eyes. He’s telling me that I’m more important to him than the comfort he’s built around himself because he was too scared to put his feelings on the line.
“I trust you more than anyone else in the world,” Ethan says quietly. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But I think I want to find out.”
He reaches out and I blindly clasp his hand. I can’t believe that this is really happening. For all my hope, there’s a large part of me that was absolutely certain that everything would go wrong. I hadn’t really believed that Ethan would choose me when he’s spent over ten years carefully crafting all those walls around his heart to keep everyone out.
Yet he has. He’s sitting here, smiling at me, telling me that I’m more important that his fear. His hand, the one I’m holding, is trembling slightly and I know this is huge for him.
But he chose me anyway.
Ethan reaches out and brushes away the tear that spills down my cheek. I’m smiling widely, but I can’t help it.
Please don’t be dreaming. And if I am, don’t ever wake me up.
Ethan leans in. I meet him halfway and our lips press together. Ethan’s tongue darts out, requesting entrance, and our tongues tangle together lazily. It’s a slow, deep kiss, and I pour everything into it, my happiness and my longing and even my incredulous shock that this is happening. In return, I feel his nerves and his determination and my importance to him, so important that he’ll break everything to give me a chance.
When we pull back, I’m breathless from the rollercoaster of emotions we just shared.
“You’re the only one in the world I would trust,” Ethan says quietly. “I need you, Georgia. Even if it’s terrifying to not know what will happen next, I can’t let you go.”
I kiss him again, this time fiercely and desperately. Ethan moans into it as I lightly bite his lip, rubbing the skin between my teeth. I pull his tongue into my mouth and suck on it. Ethan’s hands are on my waist and, before I know what I’m doing, I’m out of my chair and straddling his legs, pushing us closer together. Ethan’s hands sneak under my robe and I feel his breath catch as he realizes that I’m still naked underneath.
When we pull away, we’re both breathing hard and Ethan’s pupils are dilated.
“I’ll never let you go,” I promise. “I need you, too.”
One of Ethan’s hands is under my robe, rubbing soft circles on my stomach. The feel of his calloused fingers makes my nerves spark, and I roll my hips on his lap with a groan, feeling how Ethan’s cock is beginning to stir in the light sleep pants he threw on to take Lily to school. I run my hands up his clothed chest; he’s wearing the same, tight white shirt from last night.
“I want you,” I say. “Now.”
We clash in a fierce kiss, biting and licking, desperate and animalistic. It’s aggressive and demanding as we push and pull at each other. A possessive feeling rises up in me, the same feeling that I felt last night when I pushed Ethan up against his bedroom door, but it’s so much stronger this time, now that Ethan has finally decided that we can be together.
He’s mine.
I want to claim him in every way possible, and to be claimed by him. I lock my thighs around his legs, and the chair creaks under us as we move, our hands flying everywhere. Ethan is ripping at the robe, tugging it open, and I’m pulling his shirt up over his chest, our kiss breaking for only a moment so I can jerk it over his head.
Ethan’s touches are equally hard and fierce. I wonder if he’s feeling the same way I am, needing to touch and feel and possess.
“Fuck, Georgia,” Ethan gasps, pulling out of the kiss. “We need to move.”
I kiss down his neck. Move? Logically, I know that’s a good idea, we can’t have sex on this old, creaking chair. But I’m loathe to pull away from Ethan for even a single moment as I press our bare chests together, the robe still on but only hanging from the crooks of my elbows. It hangs around us, but I’m barely aware of it as heat builds and settles into my skin, pulsing between us.
I slip my hands lower, sliding them underneath the hem of his pants. I meet bare skin and I pull back from his neck, brushing my fingers lightly, teasingly against his twitching cock.
“Commando, Ethan?” I purr.
“I was only driving,” Ethan groans. “I just threw on clothes. You’re one to talk. All you’re wearing is my robe.” His hands grip my hips and he pulls me closer, his voice lowering to a growl. “You look good in my clothes.”
His hands travel up, pinching and kneading my breasts. I’m so wet and hot for him right now that I can barely breathe, more than ready to burst. It isn’t just that he’s touching me, it’s everything that has led up to this moment.