He turned the bedroom light on, but I turned it off. There was enough moonlight coming through the curtains and I didn’t want to watch myself making a mistake.
He’d admitted being too stubborn to join the RFS.
He’d been wrong, though. I wasn’t being stubborn. I couldn’t disrespect my father’s life by accepting any less than a man who was willing to fight for his community.
But for one night, I could just be a woman needing the man who she’d started to love.
“You are so beautiful, even with little splotches of ice-cream over your top.”
“Then take it off me,” I challenged.
“If you insist.”
Ethan toured my bedroom, turning on my reading light. When it shone brighter than he wanted, he picked up my red t-shirt from the hamper and draped it over, softening the glow. Then he opened my curtains and allowed one million stars to twinkle from my French style doors.
“Next time, you deserve candles,” he said, rejoining me and cupping my face in between his hands. “But I’m not going to wait for you to issue another invitation, so you’ll have to settle for moonlight.”
“I never figured you for a romantic.”
“Sweetheart,” he murmured into my neck as my body clung to his, “Half the time I don’t think you figure me at all.”
“That’s not true,” I protested even though my hips were grinding against his bulge and I wanted kisses. Deep and passionate kisses. I wanted all the kisses that our stubbornness had denied us for these last weeks.
“Rylee?” He stopped and brushed a thumb over my lips and along my jaw. “For once in your life, can you not fight with me? I don’t want to buy an argument. All I want is to lay you down on your bed, gently peel these clothes off your body while smothering you in kisses, and make love to you.”
“When you put it like that …” I offered him one arm so he could tug at his jacket that I still wore, “Let me help you get started.”
Our first time together had been frenzied and emotional.
This time, Ethan took charge, each movement deliberate and slow. When my body chilled without the jacket’s warmth, he ran his hands up my bare arms and pulled down my flimsy string jacket. “One of these days, I want you in this, a black bikini and riding boots.”
“Your turn.” I started tugging at the hem of his shirt, but he leaned over and in one step backward, he left me literally holding his shirt.
“Would probably look better on you.” He linked it around my neck and shimmied it up and down my body, leaving me in tingles. “I haven’t been able to look at my Spiderbait tee the same since that day.”
“Oh, yeah?” I half sang, “Oh, well.”
“Don’t be like that. I almost burned the shirt because I blamed it for you walking out that day.”
“Hush.” I took a step closer and pulled at his belt. “We’re not going to talk about anything that will make one of us storm out of here like a diva.”
“But …”
I kissed him. I kissed him with all the urgency of wasted time and with the passion built up from too many nights wanting him in this bed. With one hand I undid his buttons and the other hand I undid my pants. Mine dropped to the floor while Ethan had to work his over his bulge which I now had in my hand.
I unpeeled his boxers, allowing his beautiful cock to emerge. Almost instinctively, I pushed Ethan back until he sat on the edge of my bed and spread his knees. But when he tried to pull me on top, I fought back, wanting to kneel.
“Oh, no you don’t.” He protested, half laughing. “There’s heaps of time for that. I want you straddling my cock. I want to feel you squeeze around me when you come.”
“But …” I wanted to do this for him. Giving head was a gift—one that I wanted to give and receive.
“Rylee, please. Our first time back together and I want to taste your kisses as you ride me. I want to feel your kisses change as you build up and I want you to kiss me while you fall apart in my arms.”
How could I refuse?
I allowed his hands to guide me to his chest and I stretched out along his body. As his lips reacquainted themselves with mine, we rubbed and caressed his cock against my panties, four hands working as one.
When Ethan reached up between my legs, his smile could have illuminated the whole town. “Feels like someone has missed me.”