“You’re quiet.” Ethan brushes the hair off of my face with one hand and pulls me closer with the other. I throw my leg over his naked lap and straddle him, head resting on his chest and wrapped in his arms. No better place in the world to be. Needless to say, after our session in the broom closet, I looked like I was jumped by a heard of horny adolescent bull elephants. No way was I going back to that party looking like that. Ethan texted Cam and Justin that we’d decided to make an early exit. And truthfully, I wasn’t ready for the third degree from our friends.
As soon as he unlocked the front door, we stumbled inside with our mouths fused together and began to tear each other’s clothes off. The kisses out of control, greedy. By the time we reached the top of the stairs there was a long trail of discarded clothing left in our wake. Naked, I was unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder. He got a smack on his ten star bubble butt for that. After which, I got a slap on mine. Can’t say I minded it, though.
“Hmm.” I lean in, burying my face on the side of his neck, and suck in a big whiff of him. It’s one of my favorite things to do now. Which, I’ve determined, should be a thing––a legit hobby. I don’t know what it is about his scent, but it quiets the crazy and that is something that should always be encouraged.
“Should I be worried?” He sounds more amused than curious.
“No,” I say head shaking. “I was thinking about what Cal said.”
“That you’re family?”
I lift my eyes to take in Ethan’s reaction and nod. He picks up my hand, the one that’s brushing back and forth over his chest, and places a kiss on my knuckles, on my palm.
“My grandmother doesn’t know who I am, my mother is a stranger I can barely tolerate…all I have left is Audrey and I’m still getting to know her.”
“You forgot one other person.”
“Hmm, who did I forget?” I ask, the words garbled by the irrepressible smile spreading across my face.
“The naked man under you.”
“That’s sweet,” I say planting a kiss on his chest, on the side of his neck. “But one day you’ll meet someone and fall in love and she, rightfully so, would take issue with a benefriend being in your life.”
“What if I make you fall in love with me?” His voice sounds strange, rushed, lacking the self possession he’s famous for. Beneath me I can feel him holding his breath. A staring contest ensues. Which he wins when my smile breaks free.
“You think you can make me fall in love with you?” I echo, half chuckling at his audacity. If I didn’t know how hard fought his confidence was, it’d be a major turn off. However, knowing where he started makes my throat burn with pride for him.
Dancing with wily mischief, lids heavy, those eyes move back and forth from my eyes to my lips. “Hmm.”
“It’s like that, is it? You decide to make me fall in love with you and it’s a done deal? You’re calling your shot? Eight ball in the corner pocket.”
“Hmm,” he says with a cute little nod.
“A little full of ourselves aren’t we? And when I say ourselves and we, I mean you.”
“When I put my mind to something I usually get what I want.” His arms tighten around me, hands brushing up and down my spine.
Falling in love, loving someone, never felt like a risk to me. Exhausting, yes. Time consuming, mostly. But not risky. Because I was always prepared for pain and rejection, for the inevitable demise of every relationship I’ve ever been in. What felt risky was allowing myself to be loved, to let someone else take care of me. I’ve craved it my whole life. And like any reformed addict, I know my limits. If I let myself be loved, then what? What becomes of me once they leave? And judging by how terrified I feel right now, it’s the first time I’ve ever wanted it.
“Not this time.” Before I know what’s what I’m on my back, pressed between a soft mattress and hard muscles. He shifts his hips and makes room for himself between my thighs. “Are we starting? Is this part of your strategy? Art of War and all that?” I say, holding back a throaty laugh. I feel his body grow thick and hard at top speed and an electric jolt zips up my spine in anticipation of what’s to come. Shifting higher, he rubs against my sweet spot and I nearly come undone, my body revved and ready to go, in a constant state of pending orgasm around him.
“More like Art of Love,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.