Chapter 17
Please get in touch! We’re worried about you.
Message from Grace’s parents to Grace
Grace
Me!
I was a liar.
And Ethan had seen right through me.
Everything inside me boiled with desire.
My cheeks were on fire, and it felt as though I was bathing in molten lava rather than water.
My skin smouldered with lust for the man standing before me.
I had imagined countless times what it would be like to kiss Ethan, but I’d never wanted it more than in this moment.
To hell with fate. To hell with signs. Maybe this was a bad idea—a catastrophic one, even—but I was sick of feeling sad and hollow.
I wanted to feel good, even if just for a few moments.
After everything I’d gone through in the past few months, I deserved to be a little careless.
What was the worst that could happen? There was no way I was getting hooked on Ethan Darlington.
My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it. “Ethan?”
His lips were still twisted into that small, arrogant smile I both loved and hated. “Yes, Gracie?”
For the first and probably only time, the nickname didn’t bother me. “Kiss me.”
His eyes lit up. His hand moved confidently from my throat to the back of my neck. In one fluid motion, he closed the last remaining inches between us. And then—he kissed me, silencing every single thought and worry, just as I had known he would.
At first, Ethan’s kiss was tender, almost cautious, as if he wanted to make sure it was really what I wanted.
His restraint was unexpected, sweet, and considerate—but it wasn’t what I needed from him.
I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me.
He knew what I wanted without me having to ask for it.
Our kiss grew more urgent, our lips melting together as if they were made for each other.
Ethan tasted of fresh mint; I tasted of coconut and sweet pineapple. It was an intoxicating mix that drew a sigh from me and a low hum from Ethan. I pressed myself against him.
Our kiss faltered briefly when I realised there was barely anything between us.
No clothes, only wet underwear. And I could feel everything.
His chest against my breasts; his erection against my stomach.
My spine tingled, and my heart felt as though it might burst out of my chest from the sheer excitement of Ethan Darlington kissing me.
I moved my hips against his. The sound that escaped his throat vibrated against my mouth.
He ran his tongue over my lower lip and intensified the kiss until our tongues darted together.
The heat in my chest spread lower, into my belly, before smouldering steadily between my legs.
I pressed my thighs together to ease the feeling, but it didn’t help.
With every second Ethan kissed me, the throbbing only grew stronger.
His right hand slid from my neck over my shoulder before disappearing beneath the surface of the water between us. He cupped my breast, fitting his hand around it perfectly, as if it were made for him, just like my lips.
A deep sigh escaped me.
“Is this OK?” Ethan asked between kisses.
I nodded, and he began to knead my breast until it ached, begging to be taken into his mouth.
The throbbing between my legs grew stronger.
I wanted more of Ethan, and I couldn’t help but admire his restraint.
His cock was rock-hard, yet he was taking his time.
Gently, he kissed my cheeks, my jaw, my neck.
I knew I was playing with fire, and not just because it was Ethan.
Someone could come in at any moment. The pool might have been off-limits to guests at night, but that didn’t mean another Darlington wouldn’t turn up, or security on their nighttime rounds.
“Ethan,” I whispered. He didn’t respond, completely lost in his caresses, unable to focus on anything but my body. “Ethan?”
“Mm-hm,” he murmured against my skin.
“Could you . . .” The rest of my sentence was lost as he took one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pinched gently. A flicker of pain shot through me, quickly replaced by pleasure.
He smiled, pleased with himself. “Could I what?”
“Touch me?” I begged breathlessly.
He nibbled at my neck. “I’m already doing that.”
I moaned—even now, he was infuriating. “If you don’t start taking care of me, I’ll take care of myself.” It was an empty threat—I wanted very much to know how it felt when Ethan touched me there—but my words did the trick.
He gave a warning growl. “Don’t you dare! You’re mine.”
“Oh, really? I am?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
“So prove it,” I challenged, and found myself locked in another fierce kiss.
Ethan caught my lower lip between his teeth and bit gently as his hand slipped from my breast and moved lower—over my ribcage, down my waist, and to my hip.
The water in the pool was warm, but his touch was even warmer, leaving a burning trail across my skin.
I gave an impatient groan and pushed my hips against Ethan, shamelessly urging him on.
My desire had drowned out my thoughts, and it felt incredible to for once not be thinking about Amy, her accident, or my parents. There was only Ethan.
His hand pushed beneath the waistband of my underwear. I held my breath in anticipation as his fingers touched the most sensitive part of my body for the first time. I moaned and leant against him as he began to expertly circle my clitoris with his fingertips.
“Oh my God,” I gasped.
“Call me Ethan.”
My eyes rolled back—not at his terrible joke, but at his skilled fingers, which had brought me to the brink of orgasm in seconds.
It was a mystery how he managed it, but I could already feel the end of his bittersweet torment approaching.
My breath grew shallower, my pulse faster.
The thought crossed my mind that I might have been wrong.
Perhaps I would get hooked on Ethan’s touch.
The thought alarmed me—but the slow, deliberate motion of his fingers soon silenced the fear.
I dug my fingernails into his shoulder. It must have hurt, but he didn’t so much as flinch as he watched me fiercely, as though reading my face for instructions to my pleasure.
I was racing towards climax when he suddenly changed his rhythm.
A frustrated sound escaped me, and I was just about to tell him to go back to his earlier pace when I caught the mischievous glint in his eyes.
He’d done it on purpose—the bastard! I circled my hips urgently, trying to find the right tempo again, but Ethan wasn’t playing along.
His touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through me, but the final spark that would’ve made me explode stayed just out of reach.
“Ethan, please . . .”
“Please what?”
I pressed against his hand. “Please, let me come.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I’m that nice.”
“You are!” I gasped.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes! You’re the nicest.”
He grinned. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
He changed his rhythm again, and this time, it was perfect. In no time, I was right back on the verge of breaking.
Ethan increased the pressure of his fingers only slightly, and then it happened: An orgasm rolled over me in waves of pure pleasure. I was in paradise. Satisfied, I sank against his chest weakly as the final tremors shook my body.
“You’re really good at that,” I murmured, amazed, gasping for air to send oxygen to my brain. There wasn’t a single thought in my head—only pure contentment.
“So you do know how to give a compliment,” Ethan said, amused.
“Could you be a little less you? I’m trying to enjoy the moment,” I teased.
Mostly, though, I was trying to process what had just happened and how I felt about it.
Part of me had suspected I might regret letting Ethan get so close, but there was neither regret nor shame.
And why should there be? We were two grown adults.
We could have fun together without making a big deal out of it.
Even if it felt like a very big deal, still pressing hard against my stomach.
I looked up at Ethan. His lips were swollen from our stormy kisses, and I was sure I remembered biting his lower lip in a moment of ecstasy. I nestled against his chest, stealing some more time to catch my breath before returning the favour.
“Are you done enjoying the moment?” Ethan asked me after a few seconds.
“Why? Getting impatient?”
“No,” he replied, sliding his hand between my legs again. I let out a squeal—I was still far too sensitive. “I’m just not done with you yet.”
“You aren’t?” I asked, my voice jumping about three octaves higher.
Ethan shook his head with a glint in his eyes and slid a finger inside me. It met with no resistance, thanks to the pool water and my orgasm just a moment ago.
A whimper of desire escaped my lips.
“I want to hear you come again,” he murmured, kissing the corner of my mouth. “Think you can do that?”
Yes. No. Maybe. My body tingled from head to toe, and my head already felt light and fuzzy. Still, I nodded.
Ethan’s smile alone was enough to turn me on even more. Slowly, as if he were learning the contours of my body, he began to move his hand with careful, measured thrusts. But soon they grew faster and deeper, and I found myself clinging to him again.
“Do you like that?” Ethan asked, his voice rough.
I nodded and kissed him, needing an anchor, something to hold on to as I was about to come for the second time in just a few minutes.
Ethan’s left hand, which had been resting hot and heavy on the back of my neck, now slid lower.
It stopped to rest between my shoulder blades, as if to offer support during whatever was coming next. What had I got myself into?
I’d barely formed the thought when Ethan slipped another finger inside me.
I was suddenly grateful that we were standing in water—anywhere else, and my knees would long since have buckled.
I let my head rest on his shoulder and watched the muscles in his arm shift as he pleasured me.
The only sounds were the trickling of the waterfall and my own ragged breathing, which grew rougher with every thrust of his hand.
I had long since lost all control over my body and the sounds escaping my lips. The tension in my lower belly was almost unbearable, but the thought of telling Ethan to stop never crossed my mind. My moans grew louder, drowning out the rush of the waterfall.
Ethan changed the angle ever so slightly, so that with every movement, the heel of his hand brushed against the heated bundle of nerves between my legs—and that was all it took.
I came hard, moaning as the pleasure consumed me, a sensation even more intense than the first time.
My legs trembled, and my heart raced as though it might leap from my chest, unable to bear the bittersweet torture any longer.
Twitching, my body finally went limp against Ethan’s chest. His fingers slid out of me, and he pulled his hand out of my underwear. Then he wrapped an arm around my waist to hold me close and kissed my forehead. A surprisingly tender gesture, considering his fierce passion just a moment ago.
“That sounded good,” he murmured.
“It felt good too,” I said, trying to get my bearings. I would never again question Ethan’s skills in bed. The man knew exactly what he was doing. “I’ve never come twice. At least, not in such quick succession.”
He grinned, satisfied. “Want to make it three?”
“Oh God, no.” I was utterly drained, but thanks to Ethan, not in an emotional, sad way anymore. The high of my orgasms had left me with a warm sense of contentment in my stomach. The only thing I wanted to do now was curl up under a cosy blanket and go to sleep.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Ethan said. My tiredness must have been more obvious than I thought. He guided me towards the steps that led out of the water.
“But what about you?” I asked. A moment ago, I had still felt his hardness.
He let out a frustrated sigh, as if he could hardly believe his next words. “I’ll take care of that myself. You’re exhausted.”
“But that’s not fair,” I protested.
He shrugged. “Life isn’t always fair.”
I was a little disappointed but also grateful. I wasn’t sure I could have returned the favour properly in my present state.
It was hard not to stare at Ethan as we stepped out of the pool.
Water trickled down his torso, soaking into the fabric of his bulging boxer shorts.
I looked away quickly, only to realise I wasn’t the only one enjoying the view now that we were out of the water.
Ethan openly looked at my breasts, which until now, he’d only seen blurred beneath the surface of the pool.
“You really do have nice breasts.”
“I know,” I replied with a grin.
He gazed at me longingly for a few heartbeats, as if he were considering claiming the handjob I owed him after all. In the end, he tore his eyes away from me, grabbed my hoodie from the deckchair, and helped me put it on.
I slipped into it, the fabric clinging to my damp skin. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Ethan replied with a smile that somehow pierced my heart.
And just like that, the fear I had managed to forget thanks to his fingers returned: What if I really did get hooked on a man I thought I couldn’t stand?
Because this light, carefree feeling he’d given me was something I could easily want more of.