Page 71 of Imperfect Player

“I need you, Everly,” I admit, my voice clouded with emotion.

Her hand tenderly touches my cheek, a soft kiss to my lips.

“I need you too.”

Then another kiss.

And another.

They become less soft, more demanding. As does the way her pussy controls my cock. The tightening. The pulling. The increased pace.

“Oh, God, Ethan.” Her voice is strained.

Yes’s and curses fall from both of us. Our bodies taking over, searching for the release that we both need. The solidification of the unspoken promises we made with eyes and bodies connected.

My hand behind her neck, I pull her down to me. I force her to meet my eyes.

“Look at me, Everly. Let me see you. Let me see what I do to you.”

Let me see how much you love me. Because that’s what it is that I’m seeing in her eyes, isn’t it? Not infatuation. Not desire. Love.

For once, I just want to be loved.

As our eyes lock, as her orgasm hits her, I know I’m right. I see it. I feel it. I fucking explode because of it.

When she collapses on me, I hold her tightly, face buried in her hair.

A word I can’t yet utter is on my lips. A word that’s so foreign to me, but I know is true. Has been since that first night.

I don’t speak it though, because before I do, I need to absorb it. Accept it.

“You’re all I need, sunshine. You’re everything to me.”

Chapter 20

Ethan

It’s been no more than two hours since I dropped Everly off at her place.

Since then, my phone has been a barrage of text messages from Fox, Maddox, some of the other guys. Every text was about the same thing—Everly.

I don’t know what I was thinking when I kissed her in public like that. Fuck that, I know exactly what I had been thinking. That I wanted her. More that I wanted her to be mine. And now everyone knows it.

Fine by me.

I ignore the shit they’re giving me, even the threats I’m getting from Maddox, and instead reach out to Everly.

Me: Looks like we created a media shit storm.

Everly: Tripp is loving it.

Me: Yeah? I thought you said he would be pissed.

I throw her a little flack about the worry I know she carries about mixing business with pleasure.

Everly: Any press is good press, right?

Me: As long as it’s a picture of me, with my lips on yours, I’m not complaining.

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