The house goes quiet. Warm. Settled.
I turn back toward Ethan, and he’s already moving, his green eyes locking on mine, a smoldering, teasing light dancing in them. That smirk, slow, deliberate, sends a shiver straight down my spine.
He steps closer, and I feel the heat radiating off him.“I think you have some syrup on you.”
I look down at myself, a flush rising, but see nothing.
“Oh, not on your clothes.” He tilts his head, slow and deliberate, and brings his hand up to my cheek.“You have syrup right…”
His lips brush mine before I can register it, capturing my lower lip between his. His tongue teases mine, soft, insistent, claiming. Heat pools low in my stomach, and I gasp, tipping my head into him.
“Ethan,” I whisper, voice trembling.
“Yes, baby.” His arms wrap around me, pulling me against him. I feel the weight of him, the strength of him, the warmth that makes my knees weak. His lips trail from my mouth down to my neck, and I can’t stop the soft moan that escapes.
My hands slide up his chest, pulling him closer, needing more of him.
The kitchen disappears. The morning, the pancakes, the chaos, they all vanish. It’s just him and me, tangled together, heat building with every slow, deliberate touch.
His lips press harder to my neck, warm and firm, and I shiver against him. Every brush of his mouth makes my pulse stutter. Itilt my head, giving him more access, letting the heat between us swell until it’s almost unbearable.
“Summer,” he murmurs against my skin, voice low and rough. It feels like he’s claiming me, like the world shrinks to just us in this quiet kitchen.
I run my hands along his arms, feeling the muscles tense and flex under my touch. Every inch of him feels familiar yet dangerous, the kind of danger that makes my heart race and my stomach curl.
He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, green swirling with mischief and something darker, hungrier. My breath catches.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, that smirk tugging at his lips again.
His hand slides under my shirt, fingers tracing the curve of my spine, sending shivers rolling through me. Every nerve lights up under his touch.
I laugh softly, breathless.“Ethan… you’re impossible.”
“And you’re irresistible,” he counters, voice low, intimate, vibrating against my ear.
I reach up, threading my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until our foreheads touch. I kiss him slow and deep, letting the warmth and weight of him overwhelm me. His hands settle on my waist, strong, steady, holding me as though we could melt into each other.
He backs me toward the couch, our bodies tight, hearts racing. The only sounds are our breaths and the fire crackling in the hearth, each pop making me jump against him.
His hands tug at my shirt, lifting it over my head, and I do the same with his, my fingers grazing the warm skin of his back, memorizing the feel of him.
He presses against me fully, hard, unrelenting, and I melt, clinging to him as if letting go would unravel all the months of fear, worry, and longing.
“I need you, baby,” he whispers against my neck, his lips trailing hot, teasing kisses down to my collarbone and chest.
I tilt my head, moaning softly, pressing myself into him, feeling the heat, the strength, the tenderness mingled in every touch.
His hands roam, exploring, claiming, and I arch into him, lips finding his again. This kiss is hungrier, fiercer. A collision of want and relief, of love and need. I can’t think of anything except how he feels, solid, alive,mine.
We lose ourselves in each other, slow and consuming. Every touch, every sigh, every shiver a promise. A reminder that we survived. That we’re here. Together.
And even as the world outside hums quietly, in this moment all I can feel, all I can know, is him, his heat, his touch, his love, and the way he makes me burn alive with him.
CHAPTER 34
Summer
I finish wiping down the last table, glancing at the clock. Half an hour until closing, and I’m practically vibrating with anticipation. Ethan said he’d be here to pick me up for our Valentine’s date, and I can’t stop smiling at the thought.
