Page 51 of The Ex-cavenger Hunt

Ethan’s hand slides up my thigh, his touch igniting a fire within me. I close my eyes, savoring the sensation of his fingers tracing patterns on my skin.

His breath tickles my ear, the warmth sending tingles racing down my neck. “I’ve been wanting to do this since you let me in your apartment last night.” Ethan’s deep voice is husky with desire.

My heart hammers against my ribs as his hand grazes my waist, pulling me flush against his solid frame. The rough denim of his jeans scratches my bare thighs. I inhale his musky scent— something uniquely Ethan.

This close, I can make out the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the razor-sharp angle of his jaw. With shaking fingers, I trace the curve of his full lips. “What are you waiting for?” I whisper, voice trembling.

A growl rumbles in his chest as he captures my mouth in a searing kiss. Need detonates inside me like a flare of gasoline meeting a spark. Our tongues tangle in a heated duel as he walks me backward until my back meets the wall.

He breaks the kiss, trailing molten lips down my neck. “I want to taste every inch of you.”

I whimper, arching into him. My skin is feverish, nerves sparking with unbearable yearning. “Please . . .” It’s a raw, vulnerable plea torn from my depths.

He lifts me effortlessly, pinning me against the wall as my legs lock around his waist. Our ragged breaths intermingle in the charged air. This delicious friction, this exquisite torment. . . it’s too much and not enough all at once.

“You’re mine,” he rasps against the throbbing pulse in my throat. A possessive promise that strokes the deepest longings in my soul.

I clutch at the hard planes of his back, nails raking as I fight for purchase in the riptide of desire swirling between us. I’m swaying at the edge, ready to tumble over into sweet oblivion . . .

Heat scorches my cheeks as our frantic hands tug my clothes. With each layer stripped away, the dizzying scent of desire thickens in the air.

Ethan’s calloused palms blaze trails over the sensitive peaks of my breasts, igniting fireworks behind my eyelids.

“Look at me,” he commands roughly, cupping my face.

I open my eyes, breath catching at the blazing intensity in his gaze. He looks at me like I’m the most precious, most desirable creature to ever exist. The reverence undoes me.

Keeping our bodies intimately fused, he carries me toward the dining table. “This is where I’m going to worship you.”

A tremor wracks my form as he lays me back on the cool, hardwood surface. He settles between my thighs, the delicious promise in his darkened eyes stealing what’s left of my breath.

“Let me hear those beautiful sounds,” he murmurs against the fevered skin of my inner thigh.

I keen shakily as his mouth travels higher, his tongue lashing in wicked strokes. The first velvet caress against my aching bud has me arching violently off the table.

“Ethan,” I cry out, fingers burying in his tousled hair to anchor myself.

He growls in response, the vibrations ricocheting through me in rapturous waves. I’m dissolving, pleasure swamping my senses until there’s nothing left but the scorching lap of his talented tongue.

“Oh God . . . p-please . . .” I’m begging shamelessly now, babbling incoherently.

He answers by increasing the sweet torment, probing deeper with his wicked tongue. I shatter apart with a broken wail, back bowing as white-hot ecstasy obliterates rational thought.

I hear the feral rumble of his voice. “I’m going to drink up every drop, baby . . .”

Suddenly, the sound of an elevator bell breaks through our heated moment, followed by a sharp, disapproving voice. “Ethan James Montgomery, what in the name of God are you doing?”

We freeze, our eyes widening in shock as we realize Ethan’s mother has walked in on us in this compromising position. My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration coursing through my veins. Of all the moments for her to show up unannounced, it had to be now.

“What are you doing, Ethan? And on the table?” Her voice drips with disbelief, her eyes narrowing as she takes in the scene before her.

“F-fuck . . . Mom,” Ethan stammers, frozen with one arm still wrapped protectively around my waist. His face flushes a deep red, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance in his eyes. “What happened to ringing the bell? It’s not a hard concept.”

I can’t bring myself to meet his mother’s stunned gaze, my cheeks burning with shame. “Lily, is that you?”

“Umm, hi, Mrs. Montgomery,” I say, closing my legs and wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole. My stomach churns, and I fight the urge to hide behind Ethan.

Mrs. Montgomery’s lips curl into a sneer, her eyes cold and judgmental. “I see why you were in such a hurry during the cake tasting. You should be ashamed of yourself,” she says, her words cutting through me like a knife. “It’s not surprising that you’re alone—you’re an easy woman.”

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