Page 93 of A Certain Step
Everything about them entwined together felt right, like their bodies were made to move and melt against one another—hard and fast, slow and gentle.
It was far beyond what she had envisioned in her wildest dreams.
She was close, so was he. He was good at withholding many things, but his desire for her wasn’t one of them.
Her fingers scratched along his back, her climax coming in like shock waves she could barely decipher; Ethan’s followed through afterward, a perfect, unguarded groan left in its wake.
The marriage of their breathless longing lulled against the city’s bustling noises. Sticky heat and unreserved smiles plastered across both their faces.
She wrapped her arm against his chest, nestling herself into him as close as physically possible. He enveloped her entirely in his arms and squeezed her tighter. She kissed the jut of his throat, where her lips could reach with minimal effort, and looked up at him. “I love you,” she said into the kiss. “In case it wasn’t clear or anything of the sort.”
“Good, because I have no plans to stop loving you or let you go,” he muttered lazily.
They got out of bed,cleaned themselves up, brushed their teeth, and leaped back underneath the covers. Willa didn’t bother with a T-shirt this time, decidingto let the emerald ensemble be her outfit for the night.
“I fucking love you in emerald green,” he announced.
She gasped sardonically. “I had no idea. You aren’t saying it enough.”
“I fucking love you in emerald green,” he repeated.
She slid beside him, draping her arm against the slope of his shoulder. “I fucking love you in glasses,” she added.
“I had no idea. You aren’t saying it enough,” he mimicked. A big, toothy grin on his face.
Lifting her head, Willa trekked her lips to his. He kissed her hard, then clutched her tight against his chest.
“I’ll definitely manage to kick you this close.”
He released a close-mouthed chuckle. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.”
31
ETHAN
He heard Willa call out his name, but everything was muffled. Had he been dreaming of her? Was last night even real?
“Ethan,” he caught again. Her voice shuddered. He forced his eyes open, vision blurrier than usual as he tried to wake up fully.
Turning his head to face her side of the bed, he spotted Willa propped up and visibly upset about something as she looked at her phone. He jerked up and moved closer to her.
His hands flew to cup her face. “Wills, what happened? What is it?” His voice laced with drowsy concern.
She handed her phone to him. He could make out the lights from last night and the figures of the two of them. He reached against his bedside table, grabbed his glasses, and put them on.
Shit.
It was them—specifically, him. His body angled toward Willa, his hand on her face, essentially glued to her. Blurry and from a distance, it looked far more intimate than the moment had been. It was on the stupidly frustrating anonymous gossip site he loathed, which consistently used“sources” to dish out exclusives on celebrities.
The caption read:Watched these two all night at Sam and Priya Butler’s show yesterday. Can’t even believe I caught this shot. They say they’re best friends, but there’s clearly something more going on here. I can confirm that’s Midnights at Pemberley’s Ethan Everett sitting beside Willa Davidian.
Tears stained her pretty brown eyes, the happiness from last night eclipsed by anxiety and defeat. And it was all his fault. One little slip that he didn’t even think was a big deal. One small, thoughtless move.
“Willa—” he tried to say, but she broke down instantly.
He reached for her and wrapped her securely in his arms, trying to soothe her with strokes along her back. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated over and over. Christ, what had they been saying about them? Her? Had the cruelty already begun that this was her immediate response, or was she merelythatscared of all that could transpire?
“I just wanted more time with us,” she cried, her voice strangled.
