“Ethan,” I pant.
Ethan ignores me, lowering his head to press kisses against my neck, his stubble, which he hasn’t bothered to shave for some time, scratching against my skin. His tongue flicks out and licks my pulse, and my entire body shudders. I struggle to rein in my thoughts.
“Ethan, stop,” I try again.
But there’s no conviction in my voice. I don’t want Ethan to stop, not now. Part of me knows that we need to stop, because this could ruin everything for me. Ethan doesn’t love me, he doesn’t even want me. He’s just lonely and desperate and needing the physical comfort that I’m all too willing to give him.
I know all this. But the larger part of me, the part that longs and hopes and futilely dreams, doesn’t really care.
Except for the fact that Ethan’s friendship is the most important thing in the world to me.
“Ethan!” I manage, pushing him back. His stunned expression is almost funny. My chest is heaving and my hands are shaking. Crap, this is hard. “We need to slow down and think about this for a second!”
“You kissed me,” Ethan points out.
“Yes, I know,” I say, running a hand through my hair. My curls are already hopelessly tangled. “I did.”
“Then I don’t see the problem,” Ethan says.
There’s that look in his eyes, the stubborn, determined look that says he’ll get his own way. Ethan has always been willful and unwilling to give up until things go the way he wants them to. It’s nice to see that expression on his face again, though not so great that it’s directed at me right at this moment, when I’m already balancing on very thin ice. I swallow.
“Things will look different in the morning,” I insist.
“I don’t care,” Ethan says.
We both know that he will care. But Ethan isn’t thinking about that right now. His pupils are dilated, his shoulders are tense and I can already see interest rising in his pants. It gives me a thrill to know that I did this to him, and I hurriedly stamp down on the feeling.
“Ethan…” I try again.
“I don’t care,” Ethan interrupts again.
He swoops in, bracing his arms around me, and his mouth is on my neck again…and I’m lost. I’m not strong enough to push Ethan away a second time, not when he seems so determined to make every dream I’ve ever had about him come true.
So I simply give in and fall into his arms, pulling his t-shirt up over his toned chest. If I can’t stop this, I might as well just enjoy it while it lasts, after all. We can talk more about the consequences of it in the morning.
Chapter Two
Georgia
With no more inhibitions, I push Ethan back, this time so I can pull his shirt over his head, almost ripping the soft material in my eagerness. His chest is smooth and toned; as a construction worker, Ethan does a lot of heavy lifting every week, so it isn’t a surprise to see that he’s very fit. It makes me feel even hotter as I run my hands over his skin, feeling every dip and crevice, overwhelmed by the fact that I even can touch him.
How many times have I wondered what it would be like to feel his muscles moving under my hands, to press my fingers against his skin? He’s slick with sweat already, panting as he pulls me back toward him, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. He sucks at the skin and I know there will be a mark left there in the morning.
My hands slide down and press against the lump in his jeans. His cock is eager for me, straining hard against my palm, and I rub some friction against it.
“Fuck,” Ethan pants against me. His fingers are sliding under my shirt now and scraping against my stomach. “That feels so good.”
“It’ll feel better without your clothes,” I purr into his ear.
I slide his belt off and throw it somewhere, raising myself up on my knees and pushing him back. Ethan falls backward easily, looking up at me from the couch pillows, his eyes dark and hungry. His hands wind around my thighs.
“You’re still wearing too many clothes too,” he says.
“We can change that,” I promise.
I meet his eyes and, without looking away, I slide my hands under the hem of my shirt, gripping the soft material. Slowly, I work it up over my stomach, then over my breasts, revealing my white lace bra. Then I pull it up and over my head, dropping it to the ground before reaching behind myself to unclip my bra. Ethan’s eyes never leave mine, and he almost looks as though he’s stopped breathing as he watches me, his mouth slightly open.
I smile, pleased at the attention. If nothing else, at least I know I’m physically attractive to him.