His smile is gentle though his gaze is somber. “You’ve mentioned more than once that you’ve dealt with something terrible in your past.” He kisses the top of my hand, his gaze never leaving mine, intense and searching. The achy, fuzzy feeling inside me slowly dissipates, replaced with a slow trickle of dread. “I’d like it if you told me about it. You don’t have to tell me everything—I’m sure you’re probably not comfortable sharing the details—but I want to know. So I can understand.” I go completely stiff. How? How can I tell him? Not now. Not like this. There’s just . . . no way. Not yet. I don’t know him that well. What if I scare him away? “I . . .”
His expression is immediately contrite. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I get it.” He squeezes my hand. “We can wait.” Frustration rolls through me and I disentangle my hand from his. I definitely don’t want to talk about what happened to me but I also don’t want to wait. I want more of what he has to offer. Being with Ethan is . . . a revelation. He doesn’t treat me like I’m made of glass, like I might shatter and fall apart at any given moment. That’s one of the reasons I enjoy spending time with him. He doesn’t know who I really am, what happened to me, and I like it.
I can act normal, act like a regular woman who’s becoming involved with a gorgeous, thoughtful man. I might have blurted out a thing or two when I panicked the last time we were together but for the most part, he only knows who I am now, not the broken girl I was, and I love that.
I want it to stay that way. I just don’t know how to put it all into words, how to ask for what I want.
So I don’t ask. I do what Ethan’s done all evening.
I just take.
One minute she’s looking sort of pissed and conflicted as she watches me and the next, she’s in my arms, her slender body pressed close to me, her arms around my neck and her lush mouth finding mine. She gave me no warning, never said a word, just jumped into my arms and is now straddling me, her bent legs on either side of my hips, her chest pressed against mine as we kiss.
I slowly wrap my arms around her, anchoring her to me. She’s warm and soft, her mouth insistent, frustration seeming to vibrate from her directly into me. I feel like I can absorb her tumultuous emotions and all I want to do is calm her.
Claim her.
Reaching for the back of her head, I cup her there, my fingers in her hair, tugging a little so I can separate our mouths.
“Slow down a little,” I whisper, my lips moving against hers as I talk. Christ, it feels good, having her like this. Eager and willing and unabashedly greedy. A man could get used to this. I want to get used to this, but I refuse to push. I tried my damnedest to get her to confess, but she wasn’t having it.
Guess I can’t blame her.
“I don’t want to slow down,” she murmurs, a little sound of frustration escaping her lips. This girl is wound up tight, her body tense, her heart rapidly beating. I can see the gentle throb in her neck and I dip my head, run my lips over the spot where her pulse pounds. She’s so soft and I kiss the same spot again, letting my lips linger. A wondrous “oh” falls from her lips when I nibble her there. Lick her fragrant skin.
Her body melts. I feel the transformation, her utter surrender, and I doubt she realizes she’s even given it. Her arms loosen around my neck and I release my grip on the back of her head, my hand falling to her lower back so I can press her closer.
“Ethan.” My name falling from her lips twists my insides, makes my cock twitch. For a brief, absolutely ridiculous moment, I wish she were saying my old name. My real name.
But I’m not Will anymore. And I will never be him again. Ever.
William Aaron Monroe is dead and gone.
Lifting my head, I stare at her and she blinks up at me, her eyes falling closed right at the moment our mouths connect. Yet this kiss is like no other we’ve shared. I slide my tongue into her mouth, tangle it with hers, and she responds tentatively at first. Within seconds she becomes bolder, the kiss turns carnal, and then she’s gripping my hair, her hips shifting against mine as if she’s trying to burrow herself inside me. Her legs squeeze my hips and these sexy little soft sounds come from deep in her throat.
Hottest thing I’ve ever heard. She’s so responsive. As if she were made for me. I pull her in as close as I can get, tempted to just grind up on her so she can feel exactly what she’s doing to me, but I know I can’t. Not yet.
I don’t want to end this before we’ve even really started.
Hungry kisses gradually turn into slow, deep kisses. I cup her cheek and guide her. She’s an eager student, following my lead, her hands sliding to my shoulders, down my arms, her fingers seeming to memorize everything as she touches me. I return the favor and run my hands over her. Down her arms, along her waist, resting them on her hips for a moment before I slide them in, touching her stomach. Going higher. Higher still. Until my thumbs are brushing the underside of her breasts and I can feel the satiny-smooth texture of her bra just beneath her sweater.
Back and forth I barely touch her, keeping it light, waiting for her to pull out of my embrace, or say something. Tell me to stop.
Katie should definitely tell me to stop.