“So…” I lower my voice.“Did you ever date one of those women?” I tilt my head toward the dagger-eyed trio.
Ethan follows my gaze and groans.
“No. But Shelly’s had a thing for me since high school,” he admits.“I never dated her.”
His attention comes back to me.“Why?”
I shrug.“Just the way they looked at us when we walked in. It’s nothing.”
His smile softens, warm, steady, grounding.
“Summer,” he murmurs.
He lifts my chin with one finger, guiding my eyes to his.
“I didn’t notice them,” he says quietly.“Because I only have eyes for you.”
Heat blooms everywhere.
“Okay,” I whisper.
And it feels like a promise.
The band switches to a slow country love song, warm, soft, dizzying, when Ethan rises from his stool. His hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek.
“Dance with me, Summer.”
Not a question. A gravity.
I nod, and he takes my hand like he’s afraid someone else might reach for it.
The dance floor is crowded, boots sliding, people swaying, laughter spilling around us, but when Ethan pulls me into him, everything else fades.
His hands settle on my waist, firm but careful, shaping me. My body fits against his like it was made for this, my softness against the hard lines of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest brushing mine.
He smells like winter air, cedar, and the faint sweetness of the bourbon he didn’t drink. Just Ethan. Just safe.
His lips touch my temple as we sway.
“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he murmurs.
“What?” I whisper.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, really look.
“This.” His hand slides up my spine, fingertips brushing the zipper of my jumpsuit. A shiver races down my ribs.“Having you in my arms.”
My breath stutters. He says it like a confession, quiet, reverent.
I rest my cheek against his chest, letting myself sink into the moment. His thumb draws slow circles on my hip like he can’t stop touching me.
I look up.
His green eyes burn.
He exhales like the sight of me hits him in the chest.“You drive me crazy, Summer.”
My fingers curl into his collar.“Why?”
