Page 63 of Hearts on the Line

“Same,” Ethan says without hesitation. He lifts his hips, shifting to grab his wallet from his jeans, and pulls out a condom. “Help me?”

He holds the wrapper up, and I tear it open and roll it down his length.

The ache in my chest spikes, but I shove it away. “Don’t make me wait.”

He strokes himself once, twice, before guiding himself to me, dragging the thick head of his cock against my clit, then lower against my entrance. “You want me here, Sunny? Right here?”

“Please.”

I don’t care that I’m begging. My pulse is heavy between my legs, my need drowning out the voice in the back of my mind telling me to wait. To think this through. But I’ve spent the last twelve years thinking things over and doing what everyone else wanted, and I’m so fucking tired of being perfect.

He pushes in slow enough to make me curse, stretching me in the best possible way. I lean forward, gently nipping his shoulder to stop myself from screaming.

“Oh my god,” I pant.

“Not God,” he grits, sinking the rest of the way in until I feel every inch of him. “Just the guy who’s never stopped wanting you. Fuuck…” he whimpers.

It’s frantic from there. His mouth trails. He rocks into me, hard and deep, the Charger giving a faint squeak of protest with every thrust. The leather sticks to my knees, hot and slick. My sundress is bunched at my waist, my underwear still hooked to the side.

His hand cups my breast under the thin cotton, thumb brushing over my nipple until I arch into him. He growls low in his throat. “You feel like mine.”

The words punch the air from my lungs. My hands find the back of his neck, holding him there as our foreheads press together. Sweat beads at his temple, dripping onto my cheek.

He pulls almost all the way out, thrusting back in hard enough to make me gasp. “Always fit me perfectly,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself. “You take me so well, baby girl.”

My hips meet his, frantic and needy, the slap of skin against skin mixing with our breathless moans.

“You’re mine right now,” he says, voice wrecked. “No one else gets you like this.”

That’s it. I break apart, my whole body clamping around him as I cry out his name. My back arches against his palms, every muscle pulling tight before I shudder through it.

He follows with a groan, his hips jerking as he spills into me, clutching me so tight I can feel his heartbeat slamming against mine.

Silence, except for our breathing.

We stay like that for a long moment. His hands settling on my thighs.

Everything hot and sticky, the car smelling of sex and sea air. I tilt my hips and pull away, careful, as he reaches to move my underwear back into place with a tenderness that guts me.

I sink beside him in the seat. He zips up, not smiling exactly, just looking at me like he’s holding on to something he’s not ready to say.

“One time,” I tell him, my voice not as steady as I want it to be.

“Sure.”

Still, neither of us believes it.

Chapter 21

Sloane

Iwake up to Wally’s face on my chest, tangled in Ethan’s sheets. My body aches in all the right places, a sweet reminder of last night in the back seat of my car. And the shower when we got home. And this bed before he left for the boat this morning.

Well, okay, so I was in remedial math in high school. I meant one time as like a general idea. My strength has always been words. Except for when it comes to him. So basically…

Shit.

I smack a hand over my eyes and giggle.