The pink robe slips down her shoulders. Over her full, pert breasts. Across the curves of herhips.
Until it’s resting at her barefeet.
Her wild, dark hair marks a damp path along her olive skin. In another lifetime, she could’ve perched herself on a rock, sung a siren’s song, and men would’ve gladly dashed themselves upon the craggy surface to be nearher.
She shifts, and her tresses carve out a map of generous expanses I need to explore before I fucking die ofhunger.
“Let me take care of you tonight, baby,” I whisper, brushing my palms over her bareshoulders.
She hesitates. It’s brief, but then she nods, reaching forme.
I love that this girl always goes for it. That although she has moments of shyness, she always takes a chance. Best yet? She doesn’t playgames.
The last six years have taught me I hate goddamngames.
Tori’s a lot of things. Young. Beautiful. Feisty. Passionate. But neverfickle.
It’s time I met her courage straighton.
When I pull her closer and cover her lips with mine, it’s with the knowledge that she and I areoverdue.
And I’m looking forward to getting caughtup.
31
Tori
Every partof me feels flushed and hot, like I’ve run a race and I’m out of breath but exhilarated from the effort. Maybe it was that stupid spider scaring me out of my wits a little while ago. Or how tender Ethan’s been with me tonight, coming to my rescue and listening to what happened to me as a child. Not laughing at me. Only wanting to comfortme.
Or maybe it’s knowing we’re about to do this forreal.
Even though I’ve been with other guys, even though I’ve carelessly shared things about myself with men who didn’t deserve them, I know Ethan does, and being here with him right now feels important. It feels like a first. Like I’m handing him the parts of myself I’ve protected as I’ve waited for him to come into mylife.
He leans into the shower and twists knobs until a rhythmic pulsing of water hits the tiles and steam begins torise.
A quick pulse of expectation fires in my veins when he returns to me, finding my lips with his, and I groan into his mouth when his tongue strokes againstmine.
When I pull back, I paint his mouth with my finger, wanting to memorize the feel of his skin and hue of his full lips. “I hadn’t planned on you thissummer.”
He bites my finger, and I yelp andlaugh.
“You know what they say. The best-laid plans of mice and men often goawry.”
Handsome and smart.I have no clue who he quoted, but I don’t really care. “Then you’re my favoritemistake.”
Smiling, I step back just enough to slide my hand down his t-shirt, so I can yank the offending material off his body. He laughs at my eagerness, reaching back to his collar to help me with that one-handed shirt removal guys do that looks effortlesslysexy.
He shakes out his thick, dirty-blond hair, the shirt relegated to the cold tile, and I bite my lower lip to keep myself from grinning when I’m treated to all six-foot-something of muscled man. Of broad shoulders painted with ink and shadow and shapes that contour his powerfulphysique.
Pushing up on my toes, I press a kiss to his sternum and run my fingers through his smattering of chest hair. Like I’m following a treasure map, I let the trail lead me lower. He smells so good—like soap and leather and man. His hair is still damp and curling at the ends from a shower he took earlier this evening, but I don’t remind him that he’s alreadyclean.
His gunmetal-blue eyes stay pinned on mine as I unbutton his jeans and shove off the denim. I look down to find his bulge straining against his boxerbriefs.
And what a beautiful bulge itis.
With a held breath, I skate my finger along the thick curve, but before I make it to the tip, he catches my wrist in his bigpalm.
“No dessert before dinner,” hechides.
