Chapter 13 #3
Her hands found his shoulders, solid and strong under her palms. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space between them. The kiss deepened, and Lydia heard herself make a sound, half gasp and half moan, that should have embarrassed her but didn’t.
It had been so long. So long since she’d been touched with tenderness. With affection. So long since a man’s hands on her body had caressed her gently.
Ethan’s hand slid up her side, and Lydia arched into the touch, wanting more, needing more. When his large palm cupped her breast through her shirt, she gasped against his mouth.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.
“Yes,” Lydia breathed. “God, yes.”
His thumb brushed over her nipple, and sensation shot through her like lightning. She hadn’t had sex in years. Hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t missed it, hadn’t even thought about it beyond a vague sense of relief that Tom was no longer in her home.
But Ethan Cole made her want to be a woman again. Made her want to enjoy that he was a man. A strong, capable, steady man with kind hazel eyes and a cedar scent that made her mouth water and a presence that made her feel safe and desired in equal measure.
His hand moved to the hem of her shirt, fingers sliding underneath to touch bare skin, and Lydia shivered. Not from cold, but from want. From the desperate need to be close to him, to feel his skin against hers, to lose herself in the sensation of being wanted.
But even as she lost herself in the kiss, in the feeling of his hard body against hers, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered that this was dangerous.
That she was getting in too deep, too fast. That she was a charity case living in his house with nowhere else to go, and if this went wrong, where would she and her children end up?
Ethan must have felt her tense because he pulled back, breathing hard, his eyes dark with desire but also concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Lydia said quickly. “I just … I can’t help feeling like I’m taking advantage of your generosity. You’ve done so much for us, and now I’m … we’re …”
“Hey.” Ethan caught her face in his hands again, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’re not taking advantage. If anything, I’m the one who should be worried about that. You’re living in my house, dependent on my help. I don’t want you to feel pressured?—”
“I don’t,” Lydia interrupted. “I want this. I want you. I just—” She closed her eyes, trying to find the words. “I’m scared. Scared that this is too good to be true. Scared that I’m going to mess it up somehow. Scared that I’m not … that I’m too broken for someone like you.”
“You’re not broken,” Ethan said fiercely. “You’re a survivor. You’re brave and strong and you’re doing everything you can to protect your kids and build a life for them. That’s not broken, Lydia. That’s beautiful.”
The tears came again, but this time they were different. Not tears of grief or fear, but of relief. Of being seen, really seen, by someone who mattered.
“I haven’t felt like this in a very long time,” she admitted. “Haven’t wanted anyone in … I don’t even know how long. But you—” She looked up at him, letting him see the vulnerability in her eyes. “You make me want things I thought I’d given up on.”
“Like what?”
“Like being touched with kindness. Like being desired. Like maybe—” She took a breath. “like maybe I could have something good again.”
Ethan kissed her again, softer this time, tender in a way that made her chest ache. “You deserve good things,” he murmured against her lips. “You deserve everything good.”
They kissed for a long time, hands exploring, bodies pressing together, but going no further.
As if they both understood that this, right now, tonight, was enough.
That they had time, that there was no rush, that building something real meant taking it slow, even when their bodies were screaming for more.
Finally, reluctantly, they pulled apart. Lydia’s lips felt swollen, her body thrumming with unfulfilled desire, but she also felt … content. Happy, even, in a way she hadn’t been in years.
“I should probably go to bed,” she said, not moving from the circle of his arms. “Before I lose all my good sense and do something we’ll both regret in the morning.”
Ethan laughed, the sound low and rough. “I wouldn’t regret it.”
“Maybe not,” Lydia agreed. “But I want to do this right. Whatever this is. I don’t want to rush it just because—” She gestured vaguely. “because we’re both lonely and scared and the Christmas lights are pretty.”
“Fair enough.” Ethan pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But for the record? I’m not lonely when you’re here. I’m the opposite of lonely.”
Lydia smiled against his chest, breathing in his cedar scent one more time. “Neither am I.”
They sat together for a few more minutes, watching the Christmas lights twinkle and the snow fall, two people who’d lost everything finding something unexpected in each other.
And for the first time in a very long time, Lydia let herself hope that maybe good things were still possible after all.