Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
June
Ican’t help but smile as I watch this scorching hot mountain man standing on my ladder, patching my drywall.
Ethan is so freaking hot. Every time he reaches up and moves his arm, spreading the drywall mud around like he owns the place, his T-shirt rides up just enough to show a strip of tanned skin and a teasing hint of muscle.
My mouth waters as I stare at him, clumsily pretending to organize tools while secretly watching every delicious flex and every sexy stretch.
“You keep staring like that,” he says without looking down, “and I’m going to start charging.”
I laugh. “I was not staring.”
He glances down at me, one brow lifting slowly. “You were absolutely staring.”
I cross my arms and lift an eyebrow back up at him. “I was supervising.”
He smirks. “If you say so.”
I can’t stop smiling as he gets back to work, that T-shirt raising higher as he reaches for the corner. I already knew from the calendar that he had a six-pack, but the photo was a little blurry and seeing a peek of it in the flesh is really getting me going.
Arousal has been coursing through my body all day. I haven’t been able to focus properly since we kissed on the rooftop and I definitely wouldn’t trust myself right now around any power tools. This man has gotten me all stirred up. I’m not used to this.
I’m used to pottery and paint and angry Japanese men who threaten to smack me with bamboo for making errors.
I’m definitely not used to having a gorgeous firefighter in my workspace, flashing his shredded abs and looking at me like he’s undressing me with his smoldering eyes. How do I even function around that?
“How’s that look?” Ethan asks, nodding toward the patch.
“Uh.” I blink, momentarily forgetting how words work. “Very… wall-like.”
He nods as he looks up at it. “That’s what I was going for.”
“Then you nailed it,” I say.
What else can you nail…?
My mind keeps going to all these dirty places as he climbs down the ladder and puts his tools away.
“I’ll have to sand that tomorrow after it dries,” he says.
“Oh. You’re coming back?”
He nods with a wolfish grin. “Oh yeah, June. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Our eyes linger on one another for a long heated moment. The air gets hotter. Thicker. My body buzzes with need.
I’m worried the next words out of my mouth will be an invitation to see my loft—my bed being the main attraction of the tour—so I shake these dirty thoughts away and turn back to my new wall and fresh ceiling.
“It looks great,” I say. “I can’t believe we got most of it done.”
“At least, that raccoon won’t be joining you tonight,” he says.
I shoot him a smirk. “Are you jealous of Ronnie?”
“Maybe,” he says, smiling back. “But I have something that raccoon doesn’t…”
“A human body?”
He grins. “A date. With you. Tonight. Remember?”
I swallow hard as I nod. “How could I forget? You practically begged me for it.”
He chuckles. “I’ll beg, I’ll plead, I’ll do anything to have a chance with you.”
My cheeks blush and I have to turn away so he can’t see how big my smile is.
“Any place in particular you’d like to go?” he asks.
“Honestly,” I say with a heavy breath. “I’m just so happy my place is back to normal. I’d love to enjoy it for a little bit. Takeout sounds incredible.”
“Takeout it is.”
“Is that okay?”
“I just want to be with you, June,” he says, stepping up close. I suck in a breath and hold it when I feel those warm protective hands on my hips. His fingers slide into my belt loops and he pulls me closer.
My eyes drop to his sexy mouth. I want to kiss him again. I’ve wanted it all day. I didn’t want to stop on the rooftop. It felt too good.
He hovers his mouth over mine and lets out a hungry little groan. His warm breath tickles my lips and I almost explode with desire.
I can’t take it anymore.
I need him.
I grab the back of his neck, step on my toes, and crush my lips to his.
Heat pulses between my legs. My whole body comes alive.
I love kissing this man.
I’ve loved my life the past few years, but it’s so obvious now. This is what I’ve been missing. I thought I had it all, but now that the veil is lifted from my eyes, I know there’s no going back.
I need Ethan. I need this man.
We order Greek food and end up eating at the table, having an amazing time. I laugh until my ribs hurt at all of the fun and crazy firehouse stories he tells me. Most of them involve Doug doing something stupid.
I can’t take my eyes off him. I hang on his every word.
And he hangs on every word I say too.
Even when I go into too much detail about glazing techniques or the pros and cons of various types of clay. He listens like every word matters, asks questions, and leans in like he can listen to me talking forever.
I give him props for that. Most people’s eyes would have glazed over and they would have checked out a long time ago when I got started on Tatara-zukuri, a slab-building technique I learned in Japan.
At one point, he wipes sauce off the corner of my mouth with his thumb. The touch is tender and sweet, but my entire body stirs up, reacting like it’s just been injected with arousal.
I love watching him eat. The way he chews. Even the way he holds his pita is sexy. I shift in my seat, holding back a moan when he takes a sip from his beer bottle and his thick forearm flexes.
“Can you teach me?” he asks, once we’re done eating.
“Teach you what?”
He motions to my spinning wheel with his eyes.
“You want to learn pottery?”
“I want you to teach me pottery,” he corrects with a sexy look. “Will you show me how?”
“Sure,” I say, a little unsteady as I head over to the speaker. I put on a playlist with some slow, sultry trip-hop—low beats, smoky vocals, music that sinks into your skin and stays there. I like working to this playlist sometimes. It always makes me think of sex, so it’s perfect.
Teardrop by Massive Attack starts playing through the studio and with the golden lights dimmed, the whole place has a sexy vibe.
“Have you ever done this before?” I ask as we head over to the wheel. I tap the pedal with my toe, bringing it to life.
“No,” he says as he sits down on the stool. “I’ve only seen that scene from Ghost. The one where Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze go at it.”
“Don’t get me started on that scene,” I say with a huff.
“Why? Unrealistic?”
I roll my eyes. “She made this tall beautiful vase which probably took her three hours to sculpt, and then he just sits down and pokes it with his stupid finger and the whole thing immediately collapses.”
“Oomph,” he says. “Rookie move.”
“I didn’t even get to the most unrealistic part yet!” I say, getting worked up. “She just laughs like being an asshole is so cute!” I throw my arms in the air and he chuckles.
“But that scene after…” he says, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s wet clay,” I say, pulling up a stool behind him. “It’s not very sexy.”
But as soon as I slide up behind him, his body pushing my thighs open, my hands around his muscular frame, his masculine scent filling my lungs… I know I’m wrong.
This is very sexy.
“Take a handful of clay,” I tell him, my voice all weirdly raspy, “and toss it onto the middle of the wheel.”
He does and I show him how to push the pedal with his foot, spinning it around.
“Hold on,” I say when he’s about to touch the clay. “Your hands need to be wet.”
I swallow hard as I dip my hand into the bowl of warm water. I slide my hands onto his, getting them nice and wet. He groans as he feels my slick fingers sliding all over his hands.
“I think I’m going to like pottery,” he says as he rubs my hands with his.
The humming of the wheel mixes with the soft sensual beat of the music.
“Too much talking, Mr. April,” I whisper as I get in closer, pressing my breasts against his broad muscular back. “Don’t make me get my bamboo stick.”
“You’re going to whip me?” he asks, looking over his shoulder with a grin. “Now, I’m really going to like pottery.”
“Hands like this,” I tell him, wrapping my fingers over his, guiding them down, firm but gentle. “You have to be steady. Confident.”
The wheel spins. The clay grows wet and warm beneath our palms.
Has pottery always been this sensual? I had no idea…
“Relax your shoulders,” I whisper near his ear when I feel his arms and shoulders flexing. “Let the wheel do the work. We’re just guiding it along.”
He exhales slowly, and I feel him relax. His hands follow my lead, strong and careful, and the clay rises between our fingers. Water drips, slick and cool, trailing down his wrists. I add more, letting it run over his big hands.
I love touching his hands. The sensation is so delicious and distracting.
I’m barely paying attention to the fact that this vase is nothing more than a deformed lump of clay.
My artistic integrity is gone. All that’s left is him—the heat of his body, the steady strength in his hands, the way my pulse skips every time our fingers slide together and I forget where the clay ends and he begins.
“How am I doing?” he asks, voice low.
My breath hitches. My nipples are hard and tingly as I press my chest to his back. My inner thighs are wrapped around him and my pussy is on fire.
“So good,” I whisper, sliding my hands onto his wrists.
I wonder if he’s as turned on as I am. I wonder if his cock is long and hard. I’m so wet it’s hard to concentrate on anything else.
“How do I get it up?” he asks.
I gulp. Loudly.
He gives me a sexy grin as he looks at me over his shoulder. “You okay back there?”
“Yes,” I gasp. I’m so far from being okay. Get it up… He wants to get it up?
“Oh,” I say, shaking my head and feeling ridiculous. “The clay. Like this.”
I take his hands and show him how to add pressure, pushing his thumbs into the wet clay, slow and deliberately. It rises between his palms and he laughs, deep and masculine. It sends a heated pulse rippling through my body.
“Good,” I whisper as I guide him with my hands. “Keep it center.”
The clay gets that long hard shape and my mind goes to some dirty places. My hands are so close to the real thing. I start to get all shaky when I picture sliding my hands onto his hard cock and feeling that instead.
He turns his head just enough that his cheek brushes my temple. “You’re a good teacher,” he whispers. “You’re so good with your hands.”
The wheel keeps spinning. The music throbs low. His hands squeeze just a little tighter under mine, and I know this lesson is going to end up with all of our clothes on the floor.
He looks down at my lips and all my resolve snaps. I kiss his mouth from the side as I abandon the clay and slide my hands up his hard chest and over his chiseled stomach instead, neither of us caring that I’m getting wet clay all over him. There’s no going back now.
“June,” he whispers in a deep throaty voice. “I’m falling for you...”
“Oh fuck,” I moan, kissing the back of his neck, his shoulders, his back.
He keeps working the clay, but I’ve abandoned it completely. My ravenous hands have a mind of their own, sliding down his stomach and over his muscular thighs.
He sucks in a sharp breath as I get closer to his cock, about to feel how long and hard I’m making him.
“Goddamn,” he whispers as I slowly drag my hand up to his crotch. I feel his erection—long, rock hard, and throbbing under those pants—and my wet pussy clenches with need. “Oh, yes.”
I open his button and pull down his zipper, reaching in with my wet hand as he holds his breath, his big hands still on the spinning clay.
“Fuck,” he growls as I wrap my hand around his thick shaft and pull his meaty cock out.
I can’t see it, but I can feel it. It’s massive and as hard as concrete and I never want to let it go.
His breath turns ragged as I dip my hand in the warm water. I get his cock all wet just like I do with the clay, and start stroking it with two hands, up and down, slow and steady. His body trembles. The wheel is still spinning even though neither of us are paying attention to it anymore.
“June,” he says again, like my name is a warning and a promise all at once.
He says it like this is changing everything. Like we’re way past first date territory and into something special.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispers, his voice cracking with every second word. “I’m already getting obsessed with you. This is dangerous.”
I smile against his back as I twist my wrists while stroking his big cock. “You ran into a burning building for me. We’re way past dangerous.”
He leans back and breathes me in, sliding his big hands onto my legs as I jerk him off.
I love the way he’s breathing so hard and violently, like he’s barely clinging onto control. Like I’m seconds away from making him lose his mind.
My breathing is shallow. My pussy soaked.
Pottery has made my hands, wrists, forearms, and shoulders strong and I use every bit of that strength and endurance to stroke his huge dick until he’s about to cum.
“Fuck, girl,” he hisses, his big chest moving up and down as he grips my thighs. “Don’t stop.”
I twist and stroke, working and milking his cock, desperate to make this strong man crack. I want to feel him come undone in my hands. I want to hear him moaning for me.
His shaft tightens and he lets out a growl.
“Yes…” I whisper, urging him on as I stroke harder, squeezing his shaft tighter as I work it up and down. “Cum for me.”
He lets out a savage groan and I gasp, his warm sticky release landing all over my hands and wrists.
I marvel at the feeling, not sure what to do now, but just sit here, feeling him, enjoying it, satisfied in the knowledge that I brought this powerful mountain man to his knees.
He reaches back, takes my jaw, and pulls my mouth to his, kissing me hard and deep, like he’s warning me that I haven’t seen anything yet.
The wheel slows as I gently stroke him. He’s still long. Still hard. Not even close to being done for the night. The music keeps playing as he stands up.
I pull my hands back and swallow hard as I stare at the cream all over them.
He slowly turns and my eyes dart to his exposed cock.
My mouth waters as I stare at it standing tall and proud in front of my face. A bead of cum leaks out of the tip and drips down his shaft.
I don’t think. I just react. I reach out, wrap my hand around the thick base, and bring it to my watering mouth.
He groans as I drag my tongue up it, tasting his hot cum. Fuck… I want more.
My heart pounds as I open wide and take him in, pushing his swollen head between my lips and onto my tongue. I don’t stop until my mouth is completely full and my eyes are watering.
"God damn, sweet girl,” he growls. “If you suck me dry, I won't have any left to put in your pussy."
I cup his big masculine balls and they feel so damn full. I don’t think he’s ever going to run out.
Either way…
I’ll take the chance.