Chapter Sixteen
Sadie
T his is bad. Really, really bad.
I couldn’t resist Ethan the night we met. But that was just physical. I’ve struggled to resist the insanely smart, committed, and honourable man I’ve got to know over the past couple of weeks. But the open, vulnerable, broken Ethan? How the hell am I supposed to resist him?
Half a bottle of red wine, several after-dinner Limoncellos and a game of pool where he proved his bona fides by shamelessly whipping my arse haven’t helped.
Right now I feel closer to this man than I’ve felt to, well, anyone I can think of.
We’re not the last to leave the pub, but we’re pretty close. We’re not drunk, but we’re not entirely sober either. Walls are down. Inhibitions are dampened. And judgement? If not slightly impaired, then it’s certainly been relegated to the back seat.
The street is deserted as we saunter back to the B & B, laughing as our breath steams in the cold night air.
It dawns on me that I’ve never actually seen Ethan laugh. The night we met it was flirty. But it was an intense, sexy flirty. Not the fun, silly kind. At uni, he smiles, even cracks the occasional dry joke. But I’ve never heard him laugh. It’s a deep, rumbly sound, the vibration of which goes straight to my lady parts.
Our shoulders bump as we walk, and my fingers itch to take his hand. To warm them in his firm grip. To feel those callouses on his palms. So I stuff them in my pockets.
I know I should say a quick goodnight and charge off to my room as fast as my legs can carry me. But there’s a yearning I’ve never felt before. A yearning to feel his body again, sure. But it’s more than that. A yearning to be close. To share quiet stories about our lives, our plans, our ambitions. All that should be freaking me out. But the yearning …
We stop in the dimly lit hallway halfway between his door and mine. Both holding our keys in our hands. Yet we hesitate.
“Thank you, Sadie. For pulling me out of the spiral I’d got myself into. And for reminding me of the good things in my life.”
I don’t know what to say. Do I go with something heartfelt and genuine, or do I put some essential distance between us and make a joke? My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. All I can do is drink up his shadowed face with my eyes.
“Well, goodnight.” Ethan turns to his door, and I turn to mine. I slide the brass key into the old lock and try to turn it. Nothing happens. No matter how hard I twist, it doesn’t want to budge.
I smell his peppery cologne, feel his heat, before a strong hand reaches over my shoulder, settling on my fingers.
My whole body starts to liquify, from his touch on the tips of my fingers, up my arm, into my shoulders. My hand falls, limp, away from the key. Without conscious thought or permission, I melt back into Ethan’s broad, firm chest.
The key turns, his hand drops to my hip, his long fingers spreading across my lower belly, flexing gently, branding my flesh through jeans and jumper. The door swings slowly open. But Ethan and I remain still. Fused.
“This is a bad idea.” My words are barely a murmur.
“It is,” he breathes against my neck. There’s an intake of breath, as though he’s inhaling me, the way I’m inhaling him.
“You should go,” I choke out. It sounds more like stay .
“I should.” Again, his words are a breath, whispering over my flesh.
One heartbeat. Two. Three.
“Please don’t.” My eyes drift closed. My head tilts, giving him access to more of my shivering flesh.
“I don’t think I could.”
And then his teeth are nipping softly at my ear. His hand tightens on my hip. His body presses more firmly against my back. Heat and hardness.
And we’re on the other side, the door swinging closed behind us.
I turn in his arms, and we kiss.
We kiss and we kiss, and we kiss. His hands cupping my face, sliding into my hair. My hands clutching his shirt, gripping his arms. The sun could rise and set and rise again and I would have no idea. Because this kiss, his lips, his taste, is more than I’ve been imagining.
The first time, the only time, we were together, we didn’t kiss. This time, I can’t seem to get enough. I can’t remember why I’ve never liked kissing. Because this is divine. It’s delicious. He’s delicious.
We spin slowly towards the bed in a kissing waltz, sliding zippers and releasing buttons as we go. Until we fall onto the high antique bed.
Ethan breaks the kiss and drops his forehead to mine.
“I don’t have a condom.” Such regret in his voice.
“Did you not check out the minibar? This is a very woke B & B.”
He looks over his shoulder, at the old dresser that’s been converted into a tea-making setup. Next to the kettle is a basket full of goodies. Chocolates. Nuts. A half-bottle of wine. And condoms. A laugh rumbles from Ethan’s chest, and he stands, pulling off his boots and socks before crossing the room in nothing but his jeans and grabbing the box.
“It’s a three pack,” he says, and I’m not sure whether he’s suggesting three is sufficient, but based on our last encounter, I’d say not. Either way, I can’t puzzle it out when he’s stalking towards me and I’m looking at his chest. His shoulders. His arms. And the narrow line of a happy trail disappearing across pale skin and tight muscle into the unzipped top of his jeans.
“There’s always the pack in your room.” I try to toe off my boots, but they’re resistant.
Ethan drops the pack of condoms on the bed beside me and lifts my foot, pulling the lace free and sliding my boot and sock off. He kisses my ankle, lips warm, sucking lightly, before returning my foot to the bed, positioning it near my hip, knee bent. With the other boot removed, he slides my hips to the edge of the bed, my legs forming the perfect cradle for his head.
Oh, yes. This.
My back arches, and my breath hisses as his tongue touches down on my most sensitive flesh. Slowly. Gently. Tenderly. He strokes back and forth, never quite going all the way to my impatient clit.
His fingers wrap around my ankles, sliding gently up and back, mirroring the movement of his tongue. Skimming my hands up my belly, I push the straps of my bra down, exposing tight and aching nipples. As I roll them between my thumb and forefinger, electricity pulses through me, striking hard between my legs.
He smiles against my flesh and then hums. The vibrations reverberate through my whole body, and it’s sublime.
I’m so close to coming undone. I can’t hold back a groan, and it’s as if that’s what he was waiting for because suddenly, his mouth is clamped on my clit. Sucking, nipping, licking, devouring. And I’m coming with enough force to stop the rotation of the Earth, my teeth trapping my bottom lip to hold in the shout, lest I wake the entire town.
My muscles are still jumping and quivering and sparking when Ethan, who somehow got a condom on in record time, slides home. Our gazes collide, and I can’t look away. There’s something in Ethan’s eyes holding me captive. Something that matches what I feel in the deepest part of my soul.
He starts out slow. Long, almost lazy strokes. A steady rhythm that builds imperceptibly to hard, fast, desperate thrusts that take us both over the top and down the other side of our orgasms. Harsh, panting breaths wind down, slowly returning to normal as the sweat dries on our skin, causing shivers.
With quiet efficiency, Ethan takes care of the condom, slides the covers down and over me and tucks himself in behind me as the big spoon, arms around my waist, legs pressed tight against the back of my thighs.
“I know we need to talk about this. But can we leave it until tomorrow? Do you think we could just park all the reasons why this is not a good idea at the door and enjoy what’s left of the night?” Ethan’s voice is full of the same longing, the same yearning I feel.
“That sounds irresponsible and dangerous,” I reply. His body tenses. “But it would be a shame to waste all those condoms. They’ll only go to landfill now the box is open.”
I feel his smile in the lips he presses against the skin of my shoulder. A tiny nip of teeth.
“Quite right. That would be a waste. And we do need to take care of the planet.”
“What happens in Bangalay, stays in Bangalay,” I say, as if this is Vegas and we’re in a rom-com.
“Deal.”