Chapter Twenty
Ethan watched from the back of the church as Jo taught Hannah how to strut the length of the aisle, moving with purpose but not rushing, like she knew exactly where she wanted to go but wasn’t in any particular hurry to get there.
She was captivating—the way she slowly unfurled as Jo taught her what poses to strike on the red carpet, how her spine straightened and her shoulders relaxed, the sway of her hips and curl of her smile. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and each laugh, each smile, hit him like a punch to the chest. He rubbed his hand over his heart, as though he could ease the ache behind his rib cage that only intensified as he watched Hannah come alive before his eyes. What he wouldn’t give to be able to make her this happy every day…
“Now here’s what you do if you find yourself in a group photo situation,”
Jo said, moving to stand beside Hannah. She slid her arm around Hannah’s waist and angled herself just so. “Bend the knee, and make space. Don’t smoosh yourself up against each other like this,”
she said, tugging Hannah closer. “You want room for the lines to breathe.”
Ethan caught Hannah’s eye from across the room as she followed Jo’s instructions, and her smile turned shy, like she’d only just remembered she had an audience. Jo followed Hannah’s line of sight and leaned close, whispering something in Hannah’s ear that had her blushing and laughing breathlessly, a little flustered but still smiling.
“Don’t believe a word she says, sweetheart,”
Ethan called. Hannah’s eyes snapped to his, the laughter there like pure sunshine.
“Come on, foxy. You know you love me,”
Jo said with a wink.
“I’d love it if you wrapped things up here so I can take my girl out like I’d originally planned,”
Ethan said.
“Then you’re in luck, because I’ve taught her all I know.”
Jo turned to Hannah, taking her hands. “You’re gonna rock this, babe. Remember, chin up, tits out. It’s all about the angles.”
“Thank you.”
Hannah pulled Jo into a hug, squeezing her eyes shut as she embraced the younger woman.
“Alright, have fun, you two. I’m off to another thrilling shift at the Bay Breeze.”
Jo grabbed her purse and strutted down the aisle like it was a catwalk in Milan. When she passed Ethan, she trailed her fingers across his chest. “See you later, foxy.”
“Good night, Jo,”
he called after her, rolling his eyes.
Hannah made her way down the aisle towards him. Her strut was less exaggerated than Jo’s, perhaps a bit less confident, but her soft, knowing smile and the twinkle in her eyes were stunning and all her. He dragged his hand over his jaw as he watched her approach, his eyes dancing over the bounce of her cleavage in the low-cut sundress, the swing of her hips, the swish of the skirt around her legs, and then back to her smile. Fuck, her smile did something to him he couldn’t explain.
“Thank you for this,”
she said when she was at last standing in front of him. She wound her arms around his neck and his hands landed on her hips, smoothing over the ruching at the dip of her waist. “I never would have thought of it, but it was exactly what I needed.”
“I’m glad.”
“You know what else I need?”
she asked, stepping closer.
He skated his nose along the length of hers. “What’s that, city girl?”
Her lips were soft when she kissed him. He wanted her closer, to slide his hand beneath her skirt and feel if she was ready for him, to kiss her everywhere—
A loud cough behind them broke through his thoughts and they pulled apart, lazily, reluctantly, as Caleb made his way up the aisle, his hands tucked in his pants pockets and his eyes downcast. “Leave room for the Holy Spirit,”
he muttered as he approached.
Hannah snorted a laugh and buried her head against Ethan’s chest, hiding her face in his shirt. He grinned and stroked a hand over her hair as he addressed Caleb. “Thanks for letting us use the space. We appreciate it.”
“Any time. You want to stay and join us for Bible study?”
he asked with a knowing smirk.
“I think we’ll pass,”
Ethan said. Before Caleb had come back to Aster Bay to take over at St. Anthony’s, Ethan hadn’t even set foot in a church since he was a kid, and any appearance he put in recently was more about moral support for his friend than any religious inclinations.
Caleb gave a knowing hum. “You better go while you still can then. If you’re around when my mom gets here—”
“Right. We’re going.”
Ethan’s hand fell to Hannah’s lower back and he guided her towards the back of the church.
“Thanks again!”
Hannah called over her shoulder, blushing.
Ethan drove them home, all the while forcing himself to keep both hands on the steering wheel so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her. If he touched her while he was driving, he was likely to lose control—of himself and the vehicle. Best to wait until he’d shown her his plan for the rest of the evening.
He hoped she’d like it. That it would help her see Aster Bay the way he saw it.
By the time he shut off his truck in his driveway, it was dark, the sky a dusky blue, like velvet, patterns traced into its pile by lingering wisps of clouds moving across the star-speckled sky. Ethan climbed out of the truck and rounded the vehicle to open Hannah’s door. He loved this time of year, when the air felt clean and crisp, a hint of the ocean’s salt hanging in the spring mist.
It was blessedly quiet at night on the vineyard, the occasional whoosh of a car going by on the road, an owl somewhere in the trees that separated his property from Cheryl and Ricky’s farm. In a few months, the cicadas would be out in full force, their din a constant white noise.
Of course, by then Hannah would be back in New York. The thought scratched beneath his skin.
He held out his hand to her. “Walk with me.”
She took his hand with a coy smile and let him lead her down the path along the side of his house towards the vineyard fields that abutted his property. Her heels sank in the soft earth as he led her through an opening in the trees and onto the vineyard proper, but she didn’t complain. Like she’d been walking these fields all her life. Like it was her fancy shoes that didn’t belong, not her.
“Where are we going?”
she asked.
“You’ll see.”
The first sprigs of green were beginning to burst on the vines they wandered between, but it was too dark to point out the first signs of a new season of grapes. He’d bring her back in daylight, in every season, show her the march of time measured in leaves and flowering buds and eventually heavy bunches of grapes his family had been turning into wine for decades. It might not be a Broadway stage, but it was a good life. He knew Aster Bay didn’t have the best Thai food or the bustle of the City, but it had entire fields of plants that his family had tended for generations, just waiting to bring forth another harvest. It had the Museum of Everything and the best damn caldo verde this side of the Atlantic.
And him. It had him.
They crested the small hill at the edge of the field and Hannah gasped as their destination came into view.
He’d spent the better part of the afternoon stringing fairy lights in the trees that overlooked the bay below. He’d hauled a low fire pit from the storage shed, setting it in the clearing along with two of his mother’s Adirondack chairs. The heavy canvas bag he’d left behind held blankets of varying weights, a Nuthatch Vineyards sweatshirt, wine glasses, a bottle of red Tessa swore would go well with s’mores.
“You did all this?”
She pressed her hands to her cheeks, her eyes darting from the chairs to the twinkle lights to the cooler beside the fire pit.
“My lady,”
he said with a wink, a bit of his Slade Hardcastle accent slipping into his voice as he held out his hand and ushered her towards the Adirondack chairs.
Her eyes lit up and she took the seat he indicated, accepting the soft, knit blanket Mrs. Greene and the knitting circle at the senior center had made after his father’s first heart attack. She wrapped herself in the blue and white stripes and watched, delighted, as he opened the cooler, removing bowls and silverware and setting them on the wide edge of the fire pit.
“Jamie’s famous vichyssoise,”
he said, holding up the plastic prep container he’d retrieved from Jamie earlier in the day. “There’s bread, sourdough, I think, and some kind of butter with herbs in it. And a lobster corn salad thing. I think he said to spoon it on top of the soup? Or maybe on top of the bread.”
Ethan paused, looking between the containers Jamie had carefully packed into the cooler for him. Each one had its own set of instructions and he was struggling to remember them all. He swore under his breath as he held up another container, this one with some kind of green herbaceous sauce that he had no idea what to do with.
“You got enough food to feed a small army,” she said.
“And s’mores with Tessa’s homemade marshmallows.”
He gestured to another bag resting beside the fire pit, long metal poles sticking out of the top for roasting the marshmallows. “But the graham crackers are store bought because Tessa says making graham crackers from scratch is a waste.”
He’d worry about figuring out how to get the soft, homemade marshmallows to stay on the stick after he figured out what the hell to do with the green sauce thing and the small container of chopped herbs. “How many herbs does one dish need?” he mumbled to himself as he pried off the container of the sauce. It immediately slipped, spilling half its contents on the grass. “Fuck!”
Hannah leapt out of her seat. “It’s fine.”
“It has to be perfect,”
he said, shaking drops off green sauce off his coated fingers and setting the open container down on top of the cooler.
“Ethan, it already is perfect.”
“It’s not. I know it’s not New York, but I thought if you could see…”
He ran his clean hand roughly through his hair and sighed. “We have great food here, too, Hannah. Our museums don’t have any Van Gogh’s, but we have museums, and bookstores, and I know it’s not the same, but I thought if I could give you this perfect night…”
She stepped in closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He held the oil covered hand away from her. “You don’t have to convince me to love Aster Bay.”
He deflated, his eyes scanning the mess he’d made, the scattered plastic containers, the half-plated meal. “I wanted our first real date to be perfect.”
Her warm mouth slid down over his finger before he knew she was moving. He sucked in a breath as her tongue roved over the digit, licking the sauce from his finger. She slid off his finger with a pop and looked up at him with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Our first date, huh?”
She held his gaze as she took the next finger in her mouth, sucking it clean.
A low rumble gathered in his chest and he cupped her cheek with his other hand as she drew the last finger between her lips. Each movement of her tongue went straight to his cock, and damned if she didn’t know it.
“Yeah, city girl,”
he said, his voice gravelly. “Haven’t had a girlfriend since I was a teenager. Thought maybe you’d like to help me change that.”
Her eyes darkened. “Ethan Hart, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”
He pulled her closer, his now-clean hand winding around her lower back and pressing her hips against his. “Are you saying yes?”
She smiled, the kind of bright joy on her face that made him feel like his skin was buzzing. Her lips skated over his jaw, the tip of his nose, his Adam’s apple, until her mouth settled at the hollow of his throat. “I’m saying yes.”
He gathered her against him, tumbling them to the ground in his rush to kiss her, to feel her. Her laughter turned to moans as he pulled down the front of her sundress and took her nipple between his teeth, worrying the peaked bud with teeth and tongue and lips as his hands roamed the dip of her waist, the plush curve of her hips, seeking the hem of the dress that had taunted him all afternoon. He rucked the dress up to her hips, hands skating over soft skin until his thumb traced her seam through the simple cotton panties she always wore.
“Yes?”
he asked, looking up.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged. “Yes.”
He moved to the other nipple as he slid his hand down the front of her panties, fingers sliding through soft curls to the place where she was already slick and hot. He teased at her entrance, played with the little button of her clit until she whimpered, her hips rising to meet each stroke of his fingers. She came before he even put a finger inside her and he swallowed her soft cries as he continued to work her through the waves of her climax.
“Can I fuck you out there, sweetheart?”
“Yes.”
The sweetest word he’d ever known, made all the sweeter coming from her.
He kneeled between her legs and pulled her panties down, tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans. Hannah sat up, her beautiful breasts with their pink, furled tips distracting him, but only momentarily. How could he be distracted when her soft, clever fingers were unbuckling his belt, undoing the button beneath, drawing down the zipper? How could he think of anything but her hands when they were slipping inside his jeans, those fingers wrapping around his shaft and drawing him out into the cool night air? She stroked him slowly, her eyes locked on his, as he pushed his jeans down over his hips, giving her better access to his body.
Her mouth was heaven, hot and wet when she slid over his erection like a dream come true. He moved the hair from her face so he could watch, traced his thumb over the hollow of her cheek as she took him deeper.
“You’re so goddamn pretty with my cock in your mouth,”
he groaned. “Love being inside you, Han.”
Not that she didn’t already know.
She took him further back, her throat constricting, and he pulled out with a curse.
“You’re going to make me come, sweetheart.”
“I thought that was the idea,”
she said, her tongue darting out to swipe at her lower lip.
He took her chin between his thumb and index finger and kissed her roughly as he kicked his jeans off and knelt in the grass beside her. “I want to be inside your sweet cunt when I come,”
he said, his other hand moving between her legs again, teasing her. She was even wetter than before, her inner thighs slick with her need. “Want this pretty pussy to take all of me, city girl. Do you want that?”
“Yes.”
He tumbled her into the grass, sliding into her heat in one smooth stroke until he was fully seated. She gasped at the intrusion, her nails scrabbling at his thighs even as she tilted her hips towards him, silently asking for more. He’d give her more. He’d give her everything, all he had to give, all she was willing to take.
“You were amazing today,”
he said as he moved in long, slow strokes.
“When?”
“When you were practicing.”
He cursed and hiked her knee up over his hip, slipping in deeper. “The way you moved.”
“Jo’s modeling tricks,”
she panted.
“No. It was all you.”
He let his thumb wander to the place between them, pressing gently against her clit. It pulsed beneath the pad of his finger as he continued to fuck her. “You were so confident. So…you.”
He groaned at the memory paired with the flutter of her internal muscles. “I wanted to take you right there. Standing in a fucking house of God and all I could think about was pumping you full of my cum.”
“Yes,”
she gasped, arching her back as her thighs began to shake, the telltale signs of her orgasm rising to the surface.
“You like that idea,”
he marveled, his own release gathering at the base of his spine.
“Yes.”
He’d never tire of hearing her say it, of the little cry at the start of the word, the burst of air at the end.
“Come for me, city girl. Come for me now.”
She threw her head back and gasped his name as she came, her body clamping down on him in rhythmic pulls that pushed him over the edge after her. His climax raced down his spine, electricity searing through his thighs and groin as he came in long, endless spurts that stole his breath, his vision going white at the edges with the pleasure of it.
As soon as he was done, he fell on his forearms between her spread thighs and parting her with his thumbs to see his own release pooled at her opening. Some primal, feral thing hummed through his blood at the sight, the overwhelming need to claim her spurring him on. Using two fingers, he pushed the errant drops back inside her, latching his lips to her clit. His own taste mixed with hers as he urged her towards another orgasm, this one fast and hard. She came with a cry, her hands fisted in his hair, and he knew he’d never tire of this, of her.
Crawling back up her body, he gathered her against him, her limbs loose, her lips turned up in a lazy kind of smile. The knit blanket from the Adirondack chair was the perfect barrier from the growing chill in the air and he held her against him as he murmured in her ear how beautiful she was, how perfect she was for him. She wiggled her ass against his groin and parted her knees to make room for him to slide his half-hard erection inside her again, to rest in her heat as they had done so many times since she’d come to Aster Bay.
“I think I’m going to like being your girlfriend,”
she said sleepily. He smiled into her hair, holding her impossibly closer. “Can we stay out here a little while longer? I want to stay like this, with you, and watch the stars.”
He kissed her shoulder. “Yeah, sweetheart. We can stay like this as long as you want.”