Page 71 of One Touch

“Ethan . . .” I breathed, my hands settling on his chest. I could feel the thud of his heartbeat beneath my palm, strong and steady. “I think we’re breaking a rule. About non-sexual touch.”

Ethan smiled. “Who says it’s non-sexual?” His thumb brushed my lower lip, his gaze dropping to my mouth. “I’ve been thinking about the other night.”

“Me too.”

“Matter of fact, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

I squirmed, pushing my thighs together as I felt the heat rise in me.

He pushed his thumb up to my lips and brushed it over them. “What was that other rule? Nothing sexual two days in a row? Which means . . . we’re good to go, right?”

“Mmhmm,” I moaned, kissing the rough tip of his thumb. “We definitely are.”

“And that will protect us from catching feelings?”

I nodded, took his thumb into my mouth, sucked it.

“You know,” he whispered. “I have something in mind.”

“Oh really?”

“Come with me. We’re going outside.”

I shot him a look.

We didn’t go far. Just out the back of the house, to the patio sofa. It was a surprisingly warm evening, with just the faintest breeze.

“Full moon tonight,” I remarked, looking out at the silvery sky up above.

“Yup,” said Ethan. “Saw it on my way home. Thought you might get a kick out of seeing me turn into a werewolf while we fuck.”

“Not funny,” I said, grinning. “Although werewolf romance does sell pretty well in my store. I never got into it, but maybe you’ll win me over tonight.”

Ethan bared his teeth at me playfully. He turned on the string lights and pulled me down onto the couch.

“I’m keeping you away from beds at all costs,” he growled.

“Away from beds?”

“Beds are for sleeping. We don’t sleep together. We fuck. We look up at the stars, and we fuck.”

“Wait,” I said, surveying the scene. “Is this romantic? Is it too romantic?”

He wrenched open my jeans and slid an insistent hand down my panties. He put his mouth to my ear. “You tell me,” he whispered. “Is this too romantic?”

“N-no,” I said, squirming, already wet with lust. “Not too romantic. Not at all.”

I whimpered as he pushed a thick finger into me, then groaned as he used my wetness to rub my clit.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he said. “That’s why I was grumpy when I got home. I wanted it to be just us. So I could do this to you.”

As he fingered me, I found his belt, unbuckled it, then unzipped his fly. Holy hell. I loved how hard he already was. He was so big that the tip had sprung from the top of his underwear, ready to split me apart.

“Is it too romantic if I tell you I’ve been dreaming about you sucking my cock for days?”

He strummed my clit faster now, pinning me back against the patio sofa, climbing on top of me, and straddling me so that hishands could work their magic on me as hard and fast as I needed it.

“Nope,” I panted, freeing his cock from his pants. “No, not too romantic. Not at all. I’d like to do that. Very much.”

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