Page 58 of Unless It's You
“Getting to know you. And . . . this.”
“Then let’s keep going.” Ethan grabs me around the waist and pulls me on top of him so I’m straddling him with legs on either side.
An involuntary moan escapes my throat when I settle on him, mouth still locked on his, feeling how hard he is, even through my jeans and his. I can’t stop myself from wiggling on top of him. Fuck, but I want to get closer. His shoulders lift and lower and he groans, as if he’s struggling to control himself.
I don’t want him to control himself. I want to see him exactly as he really is.
He moves his hips up to meet mine and I breathe in sharply, perched on top of him, cupping his head in my hands. I lean back as we lock eyes. There’s so much there. I can’t define it. I can’t figureit out. My heart races as Ethan runs his hands from my waist to the edges of my sleeveless shirt, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion until I’m just in my bra, one strap falling off my shoulder. I kiss him again, moving my body against his.
While keeping our lips locked, I unhook my own bra, shake it off my body, and rock gently on him, feeling his cock rock-hard beneath me. I’m feral, like some kind of hyped-up version of myself. This is not how I ever act with men. By this point, I’m usually going through the motions.
But right now? I want to rip off the rest of our clothes and feel him inside me. I don’t understand why it feels this way with Ethan, while it didn’t feel this way with anyone else in my thirty-four years on earth.
“Christ, Stella.” Ethan runs his hands up my bare back, fingers digging into my spine, hurting just a bit, just enough. He moves his hands to my front and takes both my breasts in his hands, his breath speeding up.
I undo his shirt buttons as fast as my fingers will let me, fumbling, going too slow, unable to speak. His shirt finally falls open and I help him shrug it off his body, gaping at his impressive muscles and surprisingly tattoo-less chest, but he distracts me by pressing one of his hands on my ass and putting his lips on my right breast, circling it with his tongue.
“Stella, you’re perfect.” He sucks my nipple so hard, I’m afraid I’m going to come right here on his couch, half dressed, dry humping Ethan Fraser.
I arch my back and let myself enjoy it. It’s gotta be his rawness that is driving me crazy. His grumpy, insanely hot persona, something I blocked out while dating his best friend.
“Bedroom?” Ethan pushes forward on the couch, wrapping his arms around my ass and standing, returning his mouth to one of my aching nipples, balancing my body against his.
“God, yes.”
He moves his mouth up my chest and neck to my mouth andtakes slow steps toward the hallway, my legs now wrapped tightly around his waist, stopping against the hallway wall to put pressure against me from mouth to groin, thrusting up a few times and sliding his tongue in my mouth, wrapping around mine, deeper, deeper.
Groaning, I slip down him until my feet are on the ground and tug at the button on his jeans, sliding my hand in as soon as I get the zipper down and fumbling my way into his boxers, finally finding what I’m looking for. I run my hand up and down, squeezing slightly, loving the moans coming out of his throat.
I haven’t been remotely interested in anyone since my breakup six months ago. Only Ethan. Damn. I need this man inside me. Forget what a mess I’m currently making of my life, I don’t give a shit right now. He’s so hot... and just what I need.
But what if it’s more than just about him being hot?
I don’t need to sleep with my client if I only want some random hot guy. The truth: I don’t want a random guy.
I want this. Him.
“Stella.” He pulls away and lays his hand on mine, stopping the up and down movement. “You need to stop.”
“But you saying my name is so hot.”
“Do you prefer Hart?”
“Nah. Say my name.”
“Stella.”
I remove my hand and take his, unbuttoning my own jeans and guiding his fingers down my abdomen and under the elastic of my underwear. “So do this instead.”
He moans as his fingers find my core—I’m so wet already—and I shove his hand down further, already on the brink of coming. But I want to come with him inside of me. I want to be as close to him as possible.
Breathing harder and harder, our mouths inches apart but not touching, I yank his hand out and pull his pelvis against mine.
“Ethan. Take me to your room.”
He breathes out and leans his forehead against mine. “I was trying to,” he murmurs. He spins around and pulls me just another few feet down the hallway and I bounce after him, a half-giggle escaping as I slam the door shut behind us.
Ethan’s on me in a second, his hands around my waist, his mouth on my neck. I wiggle out of my jeans, and Ethan slides his hands down my waist and around back to massage my ass and press against me.
