Page 57 of Return To You

My mouth gapes. What? What is he doing? “Give it to me!” I yell and punch his chest with a closed fist.

He backs up, the box still over his head. “Are you trying to turn me on? ’Cause it’s working.” He backs into the bedroom.

I storm after him, speechless.

“Now that I think about it, I’m always turned on by you.”

“Ethan!” I seethe.

“But now, maybe more than usual.” He circles the bed until he’s on the other side of it.

“Give. Me. The. Box.”

“Come and get it.”

I jump on the bed to try and reach the box. Now two feet higher, I lunge at him. He grabs me by the waist with his free hand and turns me around, pinning me against the wall.

The feel of him against me is so good and so wrong at the same time. I want it to last forever, and I wish it had never happened. Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the wall.

His hand leaves my waist and takes my wrist, pinning it above my head, lifting my breasts until they graze his chest. “Look at me, Grace.”

Flitting my eyes open, I trail my upward gaze to take in his corded neck, his stubble, the pulp of his bottom lip—

“Look me in the eye.”

I exaggerate the tilt of my head back to reach his gaze. Round my eyes on him. Pretend I’m choking because he’s so out of reach.

He nudges his knee between my legs, forcing my thighs apart. What is he doing? God it feels so good. I resist the urge to rub myself against him. Ohmygod, Grace, get a grip.

His knee reaches my clit, and he makes a soft stroking motion. I’m going to lose it. I swear, I’m losing it. Then he slowly lifts his knee higher…slowly…until my pubic bone is fully resting on it, the pressure making me throb, and then he continues lifting, slowly, slowly, my body straddling his thigh, my feet leaving the floor, lifting until my eyes are level with his.

He doesn’t show sign of any effort. “Better?” he asks.

I swallow loudly.

A small smile plays through his beautiful blue eyes. He throws the box behind him, and it lands with a soft thump on the bed. He takes my other wrist in his free hand and places it next to my face. Both his thumbs stroke my palms. His smell of fresh sweat hits me right below the ribcage, making me pant.

My mouth is dry, my breathing labored. The itch between my legs is unbearable.

“So tell me,” he says in a low rumble. “What’s with the jersey?”

“The—the what?” Why is talking about his jersey? Did he not see everything else that’s in the box? Did he forget what everything in the box means to us—to me?

“Why do you have a jersey from when I was a kid when I gave you… at least three more.”

Now he’s upset not to find other stuff? I’m so confused right now. “What?”

His eyes trail down to my neck, and he tilts his head slightly as if to kiss me right there. His breath tickles me to my core, making me squirm. “You know…” he starts, then interrupts himself, takes a deep breath that lifts me higher against him. “I got grounded a whole week for losing that jersey.”

I blink. I don’t know what to say about that. I’m sorry, I guess? I stole his jersey, okay? I was eleven. Can I get a pass? I remember that weekend vividly. There’d been a snowstorm, sudden, unpredicted. Lynn had called Mom and asked if her kids could crash at our place instead of making the uncertain trek back up the mountain to their farm. I’d had trouble falling asleep, my heart beating too hard at the thought of Ethan right on the other side of the wall. So when I’d found his jersey in the bathroom, I’d rolled it into my own clothes. “Do you want me to confess to your mom?” I say snarkily.

“Mmm…” he says, trailing his gaze down to my breasts, the rumbling of his voice almost making me come against his thigh. “No. What I’d like to know is where are the other jerseys. Those I actually gave you.”

I shut my eyes.

He tightens his grasp on my wrists and jerks his leg up, sliding me lower against him. “Answer me.” His mouth caresses my hair. “What did you do with the other jerseys?”

I shut my eyes and focus on my erratic heartbeats and his ragged breathing.

---