Page 57 of On Thin Ice

To be clear, it was not.

I swallowed down my surprise.

“This okay?” he asked.

I turned my head slightly to see his face, but his eyes were fixed on the television, his jaw was clenched, his mouth drawn into a tense line. His fingers curled then relaxed against my shoulder, poised for a quick retreat should I reject him.

God, this man. How could he not know how much I craved his touch, especially ones like this?

“E,” I murmured, grinning as I tilted my head against his shoulder. “You can touch me however you want. Anytime you want.”

He turned just enough to catch my eyes, and I saw the flush rise in his cheeks before he looked quickly back at the screen. His arm stayed where it was, but he was holding me a little bit tighter now.

After a few minutes, he shifted and pulled me closer, his hand sliding down to rest on my waist.

“If you wanted a hug,” I said, smirking into his T-shirt, “all you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up and watch the game,” he muttered, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

“I can’t,” I said honestly, letting my hand drift to his stomach. “All I want to do is climb into your lap and kiss you.”

My fingers trailed downward, teasing the edge of the waistband before sliding back up, across the firm planes of his abs. His muscles tensed beneath my touch.

“Bell,” he warned, his voice strained.

I glanced up, my lips hovering near his jaw. “Yeah?”

“I’m trying to watch this.”

“No, you’re not.” I pressed a kiss just under his ear. “You’re trying really hard to pretend you care about the Patriots’ offensive line, when all you want is to?—”

He growled and grabbed me, twisting until I was flat on my back and he was braced above me.

“Do that,” I finished breathlessly, just before he kissed me, hot and dirty and exactly how I wanted.

His hands slid under my shirt, his fingers scraping over my pecs. I hooked my leg around his waist, grinding up against him with a groan.

We kissed until we were both panting, until I could feel him hard against my thigh and knew he could feel me the same.

He pulled back long enough to strip his shirt off and toss it somewhere behind the couch. I was already pushing at the waistband of his pants.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting at my neck as he pulled my shorts down. “I’ve wanted to do this all day.”

We didn’t even make it to the bedroom.

Ethan’s broad shoulders nudged my thighs apart, and he settled between them. He glanced up at me, his eyes dark and hungry, and then he wrapped a hand around the base of my cock, licking a long, slow stripe from root to tip. When he sucked me into his mouth, I let out a curse and fisted the cushion at my side.

His mouth was hot, his tongue doing devastating things just under the head. He worked me over like an expert. Slow at first, teasing, then deeper, wetter, filthier. His free hand pressed into my hips to keep me from thrusting up too hard.

After a few dizzying moments, I nudged at his shoulder. “Hey. As much as I love this view, it’d be way hotter if you were naked, too.”

He paused, his lips still locked around the head of my cock, and raised his eyebrow.

“Come on, E. Lemme see that fine ass.”

He fell off my cock with a pop, stood, and kicked his joggers off to land next to the pile of my discarded clothes.

Before he could settle back down, I stilled him with a hand on his hip. “You up for something different?”

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