Ethan
The knock on my door came at nine-thirty, and I knew exactly who it was before I even opened it. I'd been thinking about her all day—during Leo's soccer practice, while making dinner, even during the bedtime routine.
The way she'd smiled at me that morning when she dropped Leo off, that knowing look in her eyes that said she'd been thinking about me too.
Aria stood there in jeans and a fitted sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking like she'd just finished putting all the kids to bed. Beautiful in that effortless way that made my chest tight.
"Hey," she said, a little breathless. "Is this a bad time?"
"For you?" I pulled the door open wider, unable to keep the smile off my face. “Never."
She stepped inside and I caught the scent of her perfume mixed with something sweeter—maybe the lavender soap she used on the kids before bed. The domesticity of it hit me harder than it should have. This woman who cared for my son, who'd become part of our lives in ways I hadn't expected.
"I just needed to get out for a bit," she said, turning to face me. "It's been a long week.”
"Tell me about it." I closed the door behind her and leaned against it, studying her face. There were shadows under her eyes, but she was smiling. "Wine?"
"Actually..." She bit her lip, and something in my chest shifted at that gesture. "I was thinking of something else."
I raised an eyebrow, my pulse quickening. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"
She crossed the distance between us in three steps and pressed her body against mine, her hands sliding up my chest. The touch sent electricity through me.
“You."
God. I didn't need to be told twice.
I grabbed her hips and spun us around, pressing her back against the door. My mouth found hers and she melted into the kiss, her fingers working at the buttons of my shirt with an urgency that matched my own.
"Couldn't stop thinking about you," she breathed between kisses. "All day. Every time I saw one of the other guys, I just kept thinking about when I'd get to see you.”
The admission made something warm bloom in my chest. My ex-wife had never said things like that. Had never looked at me with this kind of want. I hadn't known what I was missing until Aria.
"I've been going crazy," I admitted, pulling back just enough to look at her. "That smile you gave me this morning—I've been replaying it all day.”
I yanked her sweater over her head and tossed it aside, revealing a black lace bra that made my mouth water. My hands cupped her breasts reverently, thumbs brushing over her nipples through the fabric. She arched into my touch with a soft sound that went straight to my groin.
"Ethan," she whispered, and the way she said my name—breathless and wanting—undid me.
"I've got you," I murmured, unhooking her bra and letting it fall. My mouth found her breast, tongue circling her nipple before I took it between my lips. Her fingers threaded through my hair, holding me there.
I worked her jeans open with one hand while my mouth moved between her breasts, taking my time, savouring every gasp and whimper. She was already moving against me, seeking friction.
"You're so responsive," I said, sliding my hand into her panties. She was wet, ready. "God, Aria.”
"Your fault," she managed, her hips rolling into my hand. "You and that look you gave me this morning.”
I laughed against her skin, amazed at how easy this was with her. How natural.
"That got you this worked up?”
"Everything about you does." Her eyes met mine, and the honesty there stole my breath.
I pulled my hand away and she made a sound of protest that made me smile. "Bedroom's too far," I said, my voice rough.
"Kitchen. Now."
Her eyes widened, but there was excitement there too.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her through my living room into the kitchen, flipping on just enough light to see by.
The granite countertop was cool and clean, and I lifted her onto it in one smooth motion, my hands gentle despite the urgency thrumming through me.
"Ethan, what are you—“
"Shh." I pulled her jeans and panties off, spreading her legs.
"I've been wanting to do this since the day you walked into my life.”
I settled between her thighs, my hands stroking up and down her legs as I looked up at her. She was flushed, her lips parted, watching me with those beautiful eyes. I wanted to memorise this moment—the trust in her gaze, the way she opened for me.
When I lowered my mouth to hers, she gasped, her head falling back. I took my time, learning what made her moan, what made her fingers tighten in my hair. She tasted incredible, and every sound she made went straight through me.
"Ethan, please," she whimpered, her thighs trembling.
"Not yet," I said, pulling back just enough to make her whine. "I want to be inside you when you come."
"Then stop teasing me," she said, and I loved the edge of demand in her voice.
I stood up and made quick work of my belt and jeans, freeing myself. I was already hard, had been since she showed up at my door. I lined myself up and pushed inside slowly, watching her face as I filled her.
"God," she breathed, her hands gripping my shoulders. "Yes."
I started to move, one hand on her hip while the other braced against the counter beside her. The angle was perfect, and from the way she was gasping, she felt it too.
"You feel amazing," I told her, meaning it. "So perfect."
"Harder," she said, her eyes meeting mine.
"Please, Ethan."
I pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in, deeper, and she cried out.
"Like that?”
"Yes! Don't stop."
I set a steady rhythm, watching her face, the way pleasure moved across her features. This wasn't just physical—it couldn't be, not with the way my chest felt tight, not with the way I wanted to give her everything.
"I'm close," she gasped, her inner walls starting to flutter around me.
"Let go," I urged, my thumb finding her centre, circling. "I want to feel you."
She came with my name on her lips, her whole body tensing and then releasing. I followed her over, pulling out at the last second, my release spilling onto her stomach as I groaned her name.
We stayed like that for a moment, both of us breathing hard, and I grabbed a kitchen towel, wetting it under the tap before gently cleaning her off. Her eyes were soft as she watched me, and something passed between us—something deeper than just the physical.
"Holy shit," she finally said, laughing breathlessly.
"That was..."
"Yeah." I helped her down from the counter, steadying her when her legs wobbled. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair.
"Stay tonight?" I asked quietly.
"I was hoping you'd ask." She smiled against my shoulder.
I led her down the hall to my bedroom, our fingers intertwined. As much as I'd enjoyed the spontaneity of the kitchen, I wanted this too—the quiet intimacy of bringing her to my bed, of holding her through the night.
We climbed under the covers, and she curled into me, her head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine. My hand traced lazy patterns on her back.
"Ethan?" she said after a while.
"Yeah?"
"This means something to me. You mean something to me."
My throat tightened.
"You mean something to me too," I said, the words feeling inadequate for what I actually felt. "More than I expected."
She tilted her head up to look at me, and I saw my own feelings reflected in her eyes. "Good," she whispered.
I kissed her, slower this time, tender. When we finally broke apart, she settled back against my chest with a contented sigh.
Within minutes, her breathing had evened out, and she was asleep in my arms. I lay there in the dark, holding her, and felt something shift inside me.
This wasn't just about the incredible physical connection we had—though that was undeniable. It was about the way she made me laugh, the way she cared for Leo, the way she'd somehow become essential to my life in just a few months.
My ex-wife and I had never had this. The passion, yes, but also the ease. The feeling that I could be completely myself, and it would be enough. More than enough.
I was falling in love with her. Maybe I already had.
Whatever complications lay ahead with this unconventional arrangement, whatever challenges we'd face, I knew one thing for certain: I was in this for the long haul. And I was pretty sure she was too.