“Come with me,” I whisper to his reflection. I lift one hand, maneuvering it around his neck to pull him in for a messy kiss. “Please come with me. Ethan,please.”
A tortured groan breaks free from his chest. The lines of his face are tight with unbridled lust.Oh. Yes. I like this view very much.
Without delay, his knees knock into the back of my thighs as he speeds up—Jesus. I can’t even swallow back a moan as he fucks into me relentlessly, erratically, almost brutally when he swears into the heat of my skin and his hips jerk against mine with one final thrust.
The weight of his body sinks heavily into me. I don’t even mind. I’m willing to be pinned beneath him for the rest of my life.
He mumbles something too soft for me to hear over the pounding heartbeat in my ears. I catch his reflection in the mirror: hazy eyes, dreamy smile, disheveled hair.
My pulse trips over itself as I pore over every little detail I notice. A peal of wild laughter slips out of me when he begins trailing kisses across my back and shoulder blades.
“Oh my God, you’re already hard again?” I cackle.
“I can’t help it. There’s this girl in front of me who’s?—”
“Oh my God,” I echo, trying but failing to stifle my snort. It breaks from me, causing my shoulders to shake. “You’re so lame.”
“You like that about me,” he replies without missing a beat.
“You’re right,” I say, pivoting on my feet so that I’m facing him. “It’s my favorite thing about you.”
He holds my gaze for a lingering moment. “It’s my favorite thing about you, too.”
I don’t know why the words go straight to my heart, but they do. But before I can give it any second thought, his hands land low on my hips and pull me flush to his sweat-slick chest, and my one-track mind is back in full force when his lips find mine in a sweet and slow and never-ending kiss.
14
ETHAN
SUNDAY, JULY 20TH
She bursts into laughter,haphazardly smacking her free hand across her face. “You know the drill, Capybara.”
My brow raises. “How long have you been saving that one?”
“Months. I’ve got dozens of them I still need to go through before I’m formerly employed by Grinch Cheeks.” The edge of her lips tilts upward. “Now, quit stalling anduntakeit off.”
“I really don’t think that’s a word,” I say as I reach for a sock from my duffel bag. We’re playing unstrip poker. It’s exactly what it sounds like.
Before unstrip poker, we had an infomercial marathon. It’s also exactly what it sounds like.
Hours were spent watching shoddy kitchen appliances being aggressively advertised on late-night television. We were rather invested in the commercial’s production value for knives that could cut through soda cans.
“It’s almost five in the morning, Ethaniel. Anything’s possible at twilight,” she counters, whooping a split second later as I struggle to roll my sock over the three I’m already wearing on my left foot. “Yeah, baby,don’ttake it off!”
I huff out a snort. “One, I think we should learn how to actually play poker ’cause I’m running out of clothes letting youwin.” My half-smile widens when she sticks her tongue out. “Two, it’s just Ethan. It’s not short for anything.”
She picks up a lobster-shaped gummy—the bargaining chips we picked up from the candy shop—and flips it into the air. It pelts her on the nose, and she breaks into wild laughter. My mouth curves.
“I’ll take your darkest secret to the grave,” I say solemnly, planting my hand firmly against my chest. “No one outside this room will know how terrible you are at catching snacks.”
“You’re one to talk.” She squints at me, the challenge evident in her warm eyes. “Let’s see how great of a catch you are, Mr. Bad At Poker.”
“Please. Mr. Bad At Poker is my stepdad,” I deadpan. “Call me Ethan.”
Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, she lifts her hand in the air. I don’t miss the fact that she’s holding a fistful of gummies. Or the mischievous smirk playing on her lips. “Ready?”
“What if we go to bed instead?” I suggest. “Get in a good hour of shut-eye before our flight?”
