Page 43 of Chasing Kings

“Ethan…”

“Don’t.” He took her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips. “Please don’t stop because of that. Don’t stop.”

She nodded, seeming to understand that he needed the distraction she could offer. And he wanted to give her something with his body that might express how he felt now that his words had fallen short. Sam’s formerly hesitant hands wandered lower, undoing his belt and zipper.

“We can take it slo—” He was trying to give her an out if she wanted it, but his chivalrous words died on his lips when she slid her hand down the front of his pants and curled her fingers around his shaft.

Any pretense he had of behaving like a gentleman went out the window with her first stroke.

“Fuck, Sam.”

“Okay,” she replied, continuing to work him with slow, agonizing strokes, her hands mimicking the motions she’d made with her mouth in the limo. She stared between their bodies, her gaze transfixed. She didn’t seem to be listening to him anymore.

“I’m going to take off my pants,” he told her. His last shred of willpower would be stripped along with them, so he removed them slowly. They’d explored each other’s bodies, but only up to a point, and he wanted to give her ample time to decide if she wanted to take this final step with him.

Instead, when he rolled off her to remove his jeans, she sat up and undid her dress, peeling the tight material up over her head and throwing it on the carpet next to his shirt. He added his jeans to the heap and took a good look at her.

She’d opted for a lilac lace bra to match the panties, and while he appreciated the effort, he would have wanted her just as badly in mismatched cotton. It was all going to end up on the floor anyway.

He lowered himself on top of her again, enjoying the warmth and intimacy of close contact in spite of the protests of pain from his body. All too often with work, he was performing in cold spaces or doing such bizarrely acrobatic moves he could barely enjoy himself, so discomfort was nothing new. But sometimes it felt good to have a woman underneath him and just enjoy her presence and their connection.

Sam kissed him again, her hands returning to their previous position, now working him with both fists, making it hard for him to concentrate on her mouth.

“Slow…” he breathed against her lips. “We can take this slow.”

“But, I… I want…”

“What do you want, beautiful? Tell me what you want.”

Her strokes slowed, and she opened her eyes, big green irises staring up at him with a silent awe.

“No one has ever asked me that before,” she said after a moment.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“No.” She shook her head to drive the point home. “Never.”

“Baby, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve been fucking all the wrong guys.”

Chapter Eighteen

What do you want?

Such a simple question, yet no one had thought to ask her before. All the guys from her past, the whopping four of them there had been, only sought their own end or tried way too hard to make her come, and most had failed miserably.

Yet here was this man, and in spite of his obviously stron

g desire, he was asking her what she wanted. Sexually, he’d already dazzled her more than all her former lovers combined, and he hadn’t been inside her yet. A mental list of all the things she’d seen or read or dreamed about spooled through her head, but the words caught in her throat. Struck by a sudden shyness, she was unable to vocalize what she really wanted. The fantasies would have to wait for someone she knew better, someone who would be around for more than a few days.

As much as she liked him, and as much as her feelings for him went beyond fling, she still couldn’t see anything happening after she flew home on Monday. She couldn’t tell him the truth for fear he would stick around out of a sense of obligation. She didn’t want anyone to care for her only because they thought they had to.

So Ethan was going to be a good vacation romance story, and the sex would take her mind off the now-crushing debt awaiting her when she got home. Holding his erection in both fists went a long way to driving away words like second mortgage.

“I just want you,” she said finally.

He seemed disappointed, as if he’d expected more from her, but what could she say, really? Ethan might be the perfect man to admit, I’d like to try anal…maybe, but maybe not, because it would be run-of-the-mill for him, but she still couldn’t say it.

“Just me?” he repeated, his tone implying Are you sure?

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