“I don’t know,” I tease, tugging at his shirt. “I thought you pulled it off rather well. This, however...”
He gets the hint, sitting back on his heels to pull his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. The sight of him—broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, the defined planes of his chest—makes me forget how to breathe.
“Your turn,” he murmurs, fingers playing with the hem of my shirt.
I hesitate for just a moment, suddenly self-conscious. I’m not an athlete. I don’t have Harper’s yoga-toned abs or Paige’srunway figure.
Ethan notices my pause. “Hey,” he says softly. “We can stop?—”
“No,” I interrupt. “I want this. I want you. I just...”
“What?”
“I’m not exactly...” I gesture vaguely at my body.
Understanding dawns in his eyes. “Piper Renner,” he says, voice low and serious. “Are you suggesting I wouldn’t find every inch of you absolutely stunning?”
“Well, when you put it like that...”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. “Let me show you how beautiful you are to me.”
His hands slip under my shirt, warm against my skin as he slowly pushes the fabric up. I lift my arms, letting him remove it completely. His eyes darken as he takes me in, my plain cotton bra suddenly feeling inadequate.
“You’re staring,” I whisper.
“Can’t help it.” His voice is rough.
His fingertips trace the curve of my waist, feather-light touches that make my skin prickle with goosebumps. When he reaches the band of my bra, he pauses, eyes seeking permission.
“Yes,” I whisper, arching slightly.
He reaches behind me, unhooking it with surprising dexterity. “Not my first rodeo,” he explains when I raise an eyebrow.
“Should I be jealous?” I tease, trying to cover my nervousness with humor.
“Of all the women who aren’t here right now?” He slides the straps down my arms. “Definitely not.”
When my bra falls away, I fight the urge to cover myself. But one look at Ethan’s expression—a mixture of awe and hunger—makes me feel powerful instead of exposed.
“You’re perfect,” he says, voice reverent.
“Now who’s not taking things seriously?” I deflect.
“Deadly serious.” His thumb brushes across my nipple, and I gasp at the sensation. The confident smirk that spreads across his face should be infuriating, but instead, it sends heat pooling between my thighs.
“Sensitive,” he murmurs, leaning down to replace his thumb with his mouth.
The warm, wet heat of his tongue makes me arch off the bed. “Ethan?—”
“I love how you say my name,” he says against my skin. “It makes me want to touch you more. Like you’re begging for it, or demanding it.”
“It’s definitely a demand right now,” I manage, threading my fingers through his hair.
He laughs, the vibration sending shivers across my skin. “So bossy.”
His mouth moves to my other breast while his hand slides down my stomach, fingers playing at the waistband of my leggings. Every touch is deliberate, almost reverent, like he’s mapping a code he wants to memorize.
“These need to go,” he says, tugging at the fabric.
