Ethan. Diana Palmer
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Her shocked eyes met his. “Ethan, what are you…” she began huskily.
“Don’t move your hips,” he said, his voice deep and soft as he eased his chest down over hers and began to drag it slowly, tenderly, against her taut nipples. “Lock your fingers into mine,” he whispered, and still that aching, arousing pressure went on and on. He bent, so that his hard, thin mouth was poised just above hers. He bit softly at her lower lip, drawing it into his lips, teasing it, while his tongue traced the moist inner softness.
She moaned sharply at the intimacy of his mouth and his body, her eyes wide open, astonished.
“Yes,” he said, lifting his face enough to see her eyes, to hold them with his glittering ones. “You and me. Hadn’t you even considered the possibility while you were being thrown at one eligible man after another by Jan’s ceaseless matchmaking a few months ago?”
“No,” she confessed unsteadily. “I thought you wouldn’t be interested in somebody my age.”
“A virgin has her own special appeal,” he replied. “And you are still a virgin, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she managed, wondering at her inability to produce anything except monosyllables while Ethan’s body made hers ache all over.
“I’ll stop before we do anything risky,” he said quietly. “But we’re going to enjoy each other for a long, long time before it gets to that point. Open your mouth when I kiss it, little one. Let me feel your tongue touching mine…”
She did moan then, letting his tongue penetrate the soft recesses of her mouth. The intimacy of it lifted her body against his and he made a deep, rough sound in his throat as he let his hips down over hers completely.
He felt her faint panic and subdued it with soft words and the gentle caress of his lean, strong hands on her back. Under her, the soft grass made a tickly cushion while she looked up into Ethan’s quiet eyes.
“Afraid?” he asked gently. “I know you can feel how aroused I am, but I’m not going to hurt you. Just relax. We can lie together like this. I won’t lose control, even if you let me do what comes next.”
She felt the faint tenderness of her lips as she spoke, tasted him on them with awe. “What…comes next?” she asked.
“This.” He lifted up on one elbow and traced his fingers over her shoulder and her collarbone, down onto the faint swell of her breast. He stroked her with the lightest kind of touch, going close to but never actually touching the taut nipple. She couldn’t help her own reaction to the intimate feel of his lean fingers on her untouched body. She shuddered with pure pleasure, and the silver eyes above her watched with their own pleasure in her swift response.
“I know what you want,” he whispered softly, and holding her gaze, he began to tease the nipple with a light, repetitive stroke that made her arch with each exquisite movement. “Have you ever done this with a man?”
“Never,” she confessed jerkily. She shivered all over and her fingers bit into his muscular arms.
His face changed at her admission. It grew harder and his eyes began to glow. He lifted himself away a few inches. “Pull your bathing suit down to your hips,” he said with rough tenderness.
“I couldn’t!” she gasped, flushing.
“I want to look at you while I touch you,” he said. “I want to show you how intimate it is to lie against a man’s body with no fabric in the way to blunt the sweetness of touching.”
“But, I’ve never…” she protested weakly.
His voice, when he spoke, was slow and soft and solemn. “Bella, is there another man you want this first time to be with?”
That put it all in perspective. “No,” she said finally. “I couldn’t let anyone else look at me. Only you.”
His chest rose and fell heavily. “Only me,” he breathed. “Do it.”
She did, amazed at her own abandon. She pulled the straps gingerly down her arms and loosened the fabric from her breasts. His eyes slid down with the progress of the bathing suit and when she was nude from the waist up, he hung there above her, just looking at the delicate rise of her hard-tipped breasts, drinking in their beauty.
She gasped and his eyes lifted to hers, as they shared the impact of the first intimate thing they’d ever done together.
“I didn’t think it would be you, the first time,” she whispered shakily.
“That makes us even,” he replied. His hand moved, tracing around her breast. His hips shifted, and she felt his pulsating need with awe as she registered his blatant masculinity.
His hand abruptly covered her breast, his palm taking in the hard nipple, and she moaned as his mouth ground down into hers.
Her body was alive. It wanted him, needed him. She felt her hips twist instinctively upward, seeking an even closer contact. He groaned, and one long, powerful leg insinuated itself between hers, giving her the contact she wanted. But it wasn’t enough. It was fever, burning, blistering, and she felt her hands go to his hips, digging in, her voice breaking under the furious crush of his mouth. His hands slid under her, his hair-roughened chest dragged over her soft breasts while his hips thrust down rhythmically against hers and she felt him in a contact that made her cry out.
The cry was what stopped him. He had to drag his mouth away. She saw the effort it took, and he stared down at her with eyes that were frankly frightening. He was barely able to breathe. He groaned out loud. Then he’d arched away from her and gotten jerkily to his feet, to dive headfirst into the swimming hole, leaving a dazed, shocked Arabella on the bank with her bathing suit down around her hips.
She’d only just managed to pull it up when he finally climbed out of the water and stood over her. She was at a definite disadvantage, but she let him pull her to her feet.
He didn’t let go of her hand. His fingers lifted it to his mouth, and he put his lips to its soft palm. “I envy the man who gets you, Bella,” he said solemnly. “You’re very special.”
“Why did you do that?” she asked hesitantly.
He averted his eyes. “Maybe I wanted a taste of you,” he said with a cynical smile before he turned away from her to get his towel. “I’ve never had a virgin.”
“Oh.”
He watched her gather up her own things and slip into her shoes as they went back to the pickup truck. “You didn’t take that little interlude seriously, I hope?” he asked abruptly as he held the door open for her.
She had, but the look on his face was warning her not to. She cleared her throat. “No, I didn’t take it seriously,” she said.
“I’m glad. I don’t mind furthering your education, but I love my freedom.”
That stung. Probably it was meant to. He’d come very close to losing control, and he didn’t like it. His anger had been written all over his face.
“I didn’t ask you to further my education,” she’d snapped.
And he’d smiled, mockingly. “No? It seemed to me that you’d done everything but wear a sign. Or maybe I just read you too well. You wanted me, honey, and I was glad to oblige. But only to a certain point. Virgins are exciting to kiss, but I like an experienced woman under me in bed.”
She’d slapped him. It hadn’t been something she meant to do, but the remark had stung viciously. He hadn’t tried to slap her back. He hadn’t said anything. He’d smiled that cold, mocking, arrogant smile that meant he’d scored and nothing else mattered. Then he’d put her in the truck and driven her home.
The next week he’d been seen everywhere with Miriam, and Arabella overheard Miriam telling the other model about her plans for Ethan. Arabella had gone straight to Ethan, despite their strained relationship, to tell him