Page 46 of Always Been You

But, thankfully, her lack of suave moves turned out not to be an issue.

With David-Blaine-level skill, Ethan not only stripped himself of his shirt but he also liberated her from her dress, taking it up and over her head before she even knew what was happening. She was still reeling from his magic act when she noticed that her bra had joined the growing pile of discarded clothes on the ground.

Jess had never been a girl, teen, or woman that worried about her weight. She'd been underweight most of her life, and the doctors were always suggesting that she put on ten to fifteen pounds. After her heart transplant two years ago, she'd finally been able to reach a weight that was considered in the "healthy" range, and she liked having a little bit more curve to her hips, thighs, and even belly.

Her body issues were centered around the scars that lined her chest. She'd undergone two open-heart surgeries as a baby, one as an adolescent and then the (hopefully) final surgery, her heart transplant, as an adult.

She wasn't ashamed of her scars, and she didn't try and hide them with turtlenecks or high collared shirts. And this wasn't the first time that she'd been topless with a man. But it was the first time she cared about what the man who was looking at her thought, and that pissed her off. Her hands curled in fists at her sides as she felt her insecurity gain momentum.

Take a picture, it lasts longer, or something equally as lame and defensive was on the tip of her tongue when Ethan dipped his head and pressed his lips to the top of her newest scar that ran down the center of her chest. The others were faded and barely visible, but that one still got red when her blood was flowing and right now, her blood was flowing.

She looked down at the top of his head and felt his fingers grip her lower back, holding her in place as he kissed his way down the discolored, raised, mark. There was such tenderness, such care, such awe in the way his mouth grazed her skin that her eyes started filling with tears.

He tortured her with such light pressure that if she weren't watching the contact with her own eyes, she wouldn't be sure it was really happening.

His mouth moved up and down all four of her scars, several times. He kept his hand firmly in the center of her back as he made his way around each of her breasts, circling them with as much reverence as he had her scars.

As sweet and loving as her mind was interpreting his actions, her body was responding to it as slow, deliberate torture. A deep, throbbing need pulsed in between her legs and she heard desperate sounds coming from the back of her throat.

She and Ethan's relationship had always been a game of tug-of-war, and this encounter was no different. Except this was next-level. It was like all the years between their first kiss and this night had been foreplay, and it was all coming to a head.

Once she'd learned to tell her partners what she wanted, she'd had good sex, great sex, a couple of blow-your-socks-off encounters. But this was different. This was more than just the physical, but damn if the physical hadn't just blown her metaphorical socks off. She was torn between wanting to demand he give her the pleasure that her body was craving or letting this play out and see where it went.

Her decision was made when his hips rolled into hers, and she felt the evidence of his arousal pushing against her belly. Desperation flooded her as she threaded her fingers in his hair and did her best to guide him to one of her pert, taut nipples. But the stubborn man didn't budge, not even a little.

If she wasn't mistaken, she felt his lips tug up in a smile.

Her fingers that had been raking through his silky hair, curled into fists. "I hope you're enjoying yourself, but remember, payback is a bitch."

With that declaration, she found her feet being lifted up off the ground and she was set, rather abruptly, on the round wooden table in the middle of the hotel room. Her eyes shut at the momentum of sensations bombarding her as she reclined back.

At that moment she felt a thrilling combination of vulnerable and empowered. Exposed and sheltered. Defenseless and protected, both physically and emotionally.

It was amazing and terrifying. The questions that she'd been keeping at bay infiltrated her mind.

What came after this?

What were the rules of their "relationship" after they went back to Whisper Lake?

How was she going to survive living in such close proximity to a man that she knew could make her body feel like this and not break into his house and wait for him in his bed naked?

He'd chosen her to be his girlfriend because she didn't like him. But she did like him. She more than liked him.

She was still wrestling with her thoughts when she noticed that since Ethan had laid her down, he hadn't touched her. She opened her eyes and saw that he was standing between her parted legs gazing down at her.

"What?" Her tone was sharper than she'd intended it to be.

He didn't seem to notice or care that she'd snapped at him. "I was just waiting for you to come back to me."

Well, damn. Him saying things like that didn't help the emotional barricade she needed to double reinforce around her heart. But right now, the way he was looking at her had her lady parts smothering any self-protection that was trying to surface.

"I'm back," she whispered.

"Good." The smug smile on his face didn't even bother her. For once she didn't want to slap it off of him. She just wanted him.

He began closing the distance between them, and she expected him to kiss her, but instead, his hands moved to each side of her, and he pressed his palms down on the surface of the table as he lowered his body so that he was hovering just above her. His eyes never left hers as his face stilled just above her breasts.

The heat of his breath fanned over her bare chest and her nipples puckered with need.

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