“Cassie…”
He tugs on it. There’s hardly any pressure, but I move like he’s pulling me with a steel cable. I step into him, and when he wraps his arms around me, I press my cheek against his chest.
His breath comes out ragged and shuddery as he buries his head in my neck and sinks into me like honey on warm toast.
So warm, he melts me.
Our hearts thunder against each other, and right now, there’s only one thought inhabiting my head.
Ethan.
Bastard Ethan. Beautiful Ethan.
My Ethan.
Forever mine, regardless of whether we’re together.
“Do you think we’re ready to be friends yet?” he whispers.
“No.” What I’m feeling for him is in a different universe from friendship.
“Me neither.”
“One day?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Really?”
He laughs. “No. It’s highly fucking unlikely.”
“We could pretend,” I say, not wanting to let go.
He brushes his nose against my ear. “What do you think we’ve been doing all this time?”
I nod.
He strokes my back. Breathes against my neck. “I’ve thought about holding you a lot recently. I thought it would somehow feel different than it used to, but it doesn’t. You feel exactly the same.”
“I’m not.”
I can feel the weight of his guilt when he says, “I know.”
I bring my hands down onto his chest. “You feel different. Hard.”
“Yeah, ignore it. I’ve been like that since you and Miranda made out in acting class on Monday.”
I laugh. “I was referring to your new boxing muscles.”
He pauses. “Oh. Of course you were. Forget I mentioned the arousing lesbianism.”
“You liked that?”
“No, I like pie. That was like a religious experience. It was one instance in which I was in complete agreement with Avery. You two should totally make out more often.”
He lets me go, and when I step back, I immediately want to hug him again.
“Don’t go to bed,” he says and takes my hand. “Stay for one more drink. Please. I’m too buzzed to sleep. I promise to keep my hands to myself and sit on the other end of the couch.”
I grab the bottle and our glasses from the table. “I guess one more would be okay. We’re already drunk. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Even before I open my eyes, I can feel them aching. They throb slowly behind my lids. My stomach rolls and I press it against the warmth I’m holding, searching for relief.
The warmth moans.
I stop breathing.
Warm.
Large.
Acres of man-skin.
Most definitely naked.
I open my eyes to see Ethan, unconscious and unguarded, both arms wrapped around me, legs tangled between mine, parts of his body already awake and attentive even as he slumbers.
No.
God, no.
We didn’t.
We’re not that stupid.
It was tequila, not a full-frontal lobotomy.
I would never …
And he definitely would never …
Ethan moans again and rubs his erection against me.
“Hmmmm. Cassie.”
No, no, no, no.
I try not to launch into a full-blown panic attack.
I must still be dreaming.
I close my eyes and breathe. It doesn’t help.
The room smells like him. And me. And sex.
Lots and lots of sex.
Images of last night come back to me.
Darkness and light. Long blinks and gentle touches. Fingers. Palms. Barely there. Tentative and surreal.
Hair between my fingers. Hot breath on my neck. Then his mouth.
Oh, Mary. His sweet, talented mouth. Silk lips So soft at first, then ravenous. Cleansing all the bitter words from my tongue. Exorcising every sliver of restraint until all that’s left of either of us is primal, and desperate, and writhing.
His thigh presses between my legs and I grind … and grind … and grind. All of him, hard and swollen.
Floating. High on alcohol and sensation. More skin revealed. Clothes pulled. Half-naked stumbling.
Panting breaths against my ear, begging me to tell him to stop. Pleading for strength. Praying to be inside me.
The weight of him, heavy and electric. Stirring all my synapses. Transforming everything he touches into insatiable flesh. Mouth and fingers, all over me. Making me dizzy. Crazy. A frenzy of wrongness and “God, yes” and please, please, please.
And then he’s inside me.
I can barely comprehend the pleasure.
I speak to God. Say his name over and over again. Sigh and pant and very nearly cry.
He’s gentle. Holding still and swearing. Also speaking to God. Telling Him how good I feel.
He prays through my skin. Bites my shoulder. Kisses it better. Groans like he’s riding an angel all the way into the pits of hell.
I can’t get enough.
God, please, Ethan, move.
Thrust.
Let me feel the perfect deepness of you. Sliding home and rolling through me.