Page 78 of Summer Heat
She had imagined him every way she could think of: fast and breathless. Slow and gentle. But she had never quite brought her fantasies to this—to this quiet, determined force of him.
Be mine, he said, and she melted in the warm embrace of his arms. Her body turned liquid and lax. She buffeted against the cliffs of his chest and lapped the shore of his lips.
It wasn’t enough, to be moved and directed. She wanted to run her cool fingers over him, like ripples over rock, until the earth shuddered beneath her.
The zipper rasped as she eased it down. He grunted as her fingers felt the length of his cock. He was still in shadows though. She pushed the flaps aside, eager to find him, her fingertips brushing against hot velvet.
His breath caught, and his body shuddered, ready and willing and—not there at all.
She blinked, but the cold rush of air hadn’t deceived her. He had crossed the room to get away from her. Crossed the whole freaking cabin. His movements were jerky as he straightened his clothes and looked anywhere but her.
He paced in front of the fireplace, not meeting her eyes.
She curled up, protecting herself. The lumpy cushion was still warm from his body. “Ethan?”
“You’re not ready yet.” He spoke to the ground, pacing, pacing. “It’s only been, what? A week since you broke up? Two?”
“A month,” she said, and watched him flinch. He knew the breakup had happened just after he left Austin. She spoke softly, “But let me decide what I’m ready for, and when.”
He stopped walking and faced her. “All right. You may be ready, but I’m not.”
Chapter Six
Ethan could handle the hard plains of Kashmir, but a single night on his Uncle Griff’s couch had him cursing under his breath. Though his discomfort wasn’t only the wayward springs. His dick had been hard all night with nowhere to go.
Just like last night. And especially this morning.
Being near Lia made him permanently hard. He had always known she was sexy—and smart and funny and freaking adorable. He had always known he couldn’t have her. But seeing her lush curves, bared to him, fluid with motion, had flipped a switch in his brain. Touching her slick folds and feeling her shudder as she came had fundamentally changed him. His dick didn’t understand why it couldn’t be inside her. Because she’s the girlfriend of your best friend. Because there’s a code of brotherhood, of honor, and at one time that code had been all Ethan had.
Because she didn’t choose you.
That had been the reason he told himself, except now she was here. In his fucking bed.
Her hair spread over the pillow in dark glossy waves. Her hair had always reminded him of the dark chocolate she liked to eat, the kind with percentages on the package, as if the candy had been melted down and then spun into silk thread. He imagined leaning down over the bed and breathing in the bittersweet scent of her. He’d press his face into the strands and then… what?
Only Lia could make him want to lick a lock of hair. And smelling her while she was sleeping? He was so fucking gone—gone over a woman he didn’t have.
And wouldn’t have.
She wasn’t with Chris anymore, but she wasn’t with Ethan either. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He wasn’t sure he could stomach being second choice. It wasn’t a matter of stupid masculine pride. Okay, it wasn’t only a matter of stupid masculine pride.
The truth was, she’d been with Chris for a long time. She’d chosen him, day after day. For years. So what made now different? Except that Chris wanted to move to DC. Maybe that was the only reason Lia had noticed him. He had no plans to leave Texas, and he was conveniently in love with her.
No, Ethan couldn’t be with her, constantly doubting her. Doubting himself.
She moved in her sleep, resettling on what he knew was a lumpy mattress. Her arm stretched, exposing the perfect curve of her breast beneath her camisole. Her nipple pressed gently against the thin fabric. He flushed with want, from the top of his skull to the soles of his feet. Who needed firewood when your body was a furnace?
Then she made a sound, a cross between a moan and a whimper. What was she dreaming about?
God, that nipple. His fingers twitched at his side, longing to touch.
Creeper, he told himself, but he couldn’t make himself look away. Especially because the cabin had never been so freaking small. Anywhere he went, he could see her. Smell her. Feel her.
By four a.m. he gave up, unable to sleep and unable to keep watching her.
“Take care of her,” he muttered to Oreo before heading outside.
Logs were still strewn across the frozen grass. He started adding them onto the massive pile of wood beside his cabin before reconsidering. He had more than enough to get him through, even if the freeze lasted until New Years. On a whim, he loaded some onto his truck bed. Maybe someone there would need it.
