His lips leave mine slowly, like he’s reluctant to let go, and it does something to me—pulls every nerve in my body tight and bright and hungry.
We’re both breathing hard.
The night air feels warmer than it should.
His hand is still at my waist, firm, steadying me, like he knows my legs aren’t fully operational right now. His other hand slides down from my jaw to the side of my neck, thumb resting just under my ear.
I swear my pulse jumps against his fingertip.
“Ethan…” My voice is a whisper. A warning. A plea. I don’t even know.
He looks at me like I’ve undone every line of discipline he’s spent years stitching into himself.
"Tell me to stop," he says quietly.
I don’t.
I can’t.
So he moves closer.
My back hits the edge of the patio table, and his body presses into mine—solid, warm, careful but not as careful as before. Something in him has slipped, like a restraint unhooking.
His forehead brushes my temple as he breathes me in. The simple touch sends heat rolling through me.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.
“I’m not… looking.” I try. “I’m just… existing.”
His low chuckle vibrates against my chest.
His thumb sweeps over my lower lip, slow enough to unspool every coherent thought I might’ve had left.
My hand finds his shirt, fisting the fabric. I pull him closer without meaning to, but he comes willingly, his mouth grazing the corner of mine—soft, deliberate, devastating.
The patio lights glow warm around us, throwing gold along his jaw. The lake is dark and quiet, a soft hush against the shore.
“Lucky,” he breathes. My name sounds different now—heated, reverent, dangerous.
His hand slips to my hip, fingers curving into the fabric of my vest, pulling me flush against him. My breath catches.
Everything inside me feels like it’s leaning toward him—gravity choosing him over air.
We kiss again—slow at first, then deeper, hungrier, like neither of us is pretending not to want this anymore.
I taste wine and warmth and Ethan, and it’s addictive in a way that terrifies me.
His hands slide around my waist, lifting me onto the table with effortless strength. The movement knocks a soft gasp out of me, and I feel his breath hitch against my cheek like the sound undid something in him.
My legs wrap around him instinctively.
His hands skim down my thighs.
His mouth moves to my neck.
The world tilts.
“Tell me if this is too fast,” he murmurs against my skin.
