The Wrong Kind of Love

The bathroom door cracks, and Ethan steps in. “Everyone’s watching a movie in the basement, and I . . .” He runs his gaze over the shower curtain, and I don’t know if he can see my silhouette, but a shiver runs through me, turning hot and pooling low in my stomach.

He closes the door and locks it behind him. In one swift step, he’s in the shower fully clothed, his chest pressed against me, my back to the tile, his hand in my hair as his mouth lowers to mine.

Nicole

“I was an ass, and you didn’t deserve that.” He kisses down my neck as his hands slip over my wet skin. “I don’t want you with my brothers because I want you for myself. It has nothing to do with you working for me or the fucking condoms. I just know they see what I see. I know they’re smart enough to fight for you too, and it would kill me.” He pulls back and looks into my eyes, water rolling down his face. “It would fucking destroy me to have to see you with any of them when I want you with me.”

I swallow hard and try to keep myself in check, but my chest is tight—full of hope and optimism and everything else I’m too afraid to label. I trace the line of his jaw, following the path of the spray as it rolls down his neck. “I have secrets, Ethan.” I shake my head. “There are reasons I can’t stay.”

“We all have secrets, and I know you’re not ready. I know he broke your heart and you want to leave in February, but let me have you until then. I don’t need promises, Nic. But I want you too much. I will take anything you’re willing to give me.”

I close my eyes and lift my face to the spray. “I want you too,” I admit. “More than you know.”

He kisses me hard, and his hand finds my breast. His thumb strokes against my nipple while the other hand strokes down the side of my body. He positions one of his muscular legs between mine, giving me the pressure of his hard thigh right where he touched me on Saturday night. His mouth on my neck, the hot water, the cool tile, his greedy hands sliding over every inch of my skin—the combination leaves me breathless and whimpering for more. I rock against his thigh, and he grips my hips roughly, guiding me to rub over him again and again. Pleasure spirals through me, and I arch my neck and moan.

“Jesus. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he murmurs against my lips. “About this. You make me insane.”

I fumble with the button on his jeans, and he tries to help. We’re both too anxious, and our hands get in each other’s way as we fight to remove his wet clothes and toss them outside the shower. When he steps back against the opposite wall to finish the job, his eyes are hot on my body, skimming down and back up, pausing at my breasts, my thighs, and every dip and curve between. His lips part, and time seems to move in slow motion as he sheds his briefs. Only then can I exhale. Only when he’s stepping toward me naked with those hungry eyes can I breathe again.

He presses against me, and the cold tile is a sharp contrast to his impossible heat. He trails a hand down one thigh and under my knee and then the other, until I’m pinned between his body and the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist and his cock nestled along my slit.

“Fuck me,” I whisper. I know he doesn’t have a condom, and I don’t care. I’m on birth control, and desperate to feel him inside me. “Fuck me like this.”

He slides into me a fraction of the way, his eyes floating closed. When he opens them, he kisses me and slides fully in. He feels so good. So close and deep. My body instantly tightens around him, coiling in pleasure I’ve never found so quickly.

He sucks at my neck between whispered words in my ear. “I love the way you move.” “I can’t stop thinking about how you taste.” “You’re so beautiful when you come.”

The shower rains down on us as he loves me with his body and his words, and when I come in his arms, my fears in that moment disintegrate and are washed down the drain right along with my well-intended boundaries.

Nicole

I’m pretty sure every time one of the Jackson siblings looks at me, they can tell Ethan and I just had shower sex. As if it’s written on my skin or something. But no one says anything, even when Ethan throws me looks at the dinner table that seem to say he can’t wait to do it again.