That wasn’t Monroe’s life. That had never been her life.
But she pushed it all from her mind. Every doubt, every insecurity…none of it belonged here with them. Because for once in her damn life she deserved to feel special, to feel cherished. And a shitty bedroom wasn’t going to take that from her.
Ethan finished removing her top and bra, pushing both off her shoulders and letting them fall to the ground. Then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and tugged her forward, which was about the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced. There was a touch of arrogance in him, and she liked it. Because he knew he was attractive, he knew she wanted him and it was so nice not to have to pretend otherwise.
He popped the button on her jeans and pulled the zipper down slowly, making a soft grunt at the sight of what she had on underneath. Black lace, a touch of satin. She’d found some of her old lingerie when she’d gone digging for something nice to wear—finding a plastic bag with all manner of sexy things shoved into the back of her closet, behind a box of books and some old makeup that needed to be tossed.
“And you said you didn’t know where this was going?” He pulled her jeans down, letting out a groan when he saw the little heart-shaped cutout in the fabric. “Bloody hell.”
“Maybe I wore them for me,” she teased.
“Did you?” he asked, helping her out of her jeans. He tossed them to the side, onto the pile containing her top and bra.
“No,” she whispered. “I wore them for you.”
His eyes were like twin blue flames and he eased her back to the bed, encouraging her to sit. Then he knelt in front of her and Monroe felt this surge of power go through her, like she finally understood that he didn’t just have an effect on her. But that she also had an effect on him.
The way he looked at her…Lordy.
He kissed the inside of her knee and she couldn’t help but smile at how tender and sweet it was, like a moment of truth in the haze of sexual attraction driving them forward. But that sweetness was soon consumed when he pulled her legs over his shoulders and opened her up. Monroe sucked in a breath.
“I love how you’re freckled everywhere.” He followed the brown dots with his fingertip, skating them higher up her inner thigh.
“I always hated them,” she admitted. “The kids at school used to tease me.”
“I think they’re beautiful.”
There were freckles and then there were freckles. Monroe had laughed once at a makeup tutorial Loren had shown her where girls drew them across their nose and cheeks in a delicate little spray, like a dusting of cinnamon. Monroe’s freckles were clustered and stark and they were everywhere, summer or not. When she was on Sugar Coated the makeup artists had covered them up with dense foundation and powder, and for a time after Monroe had done the same.
But he looked at her like he enjoyed every part of her—all the bits she blamed on why her husband had stopped finding her attractive. Her small boobs, her unruly hair, her obnoxiously freckled skin. Ethan liked it all.
The higher his hands got, the tighter her body wound up. Her sex clenched as he brushed the very top of her inner thigh, anticipation turning her to molten liquid. This was it, her last chance to back out before it went from being an ill-advised fumble to something else.
He pressed his lips to her center through the thin satin and lace of her fancy underwear. A shudder rippled through her, and she curled her hands around the edge of the bed.
“You’re excited,” he said. His voice was low and rough and it made her pulse jump. “It’s a bloody beautiful thing to see.”
Her eyes closed, and she tried to push away the doubt and self-consciousness edging in. “That’s because you make me excited.”
He spread her legs with his palms, holding her wide open. “Tell me you want this. I want to hear you say it.”
Her thighs were practically trembling under his touch and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this.
“If you don’t finish what you started, then I’m going to kick you out of this house so I can finish it myself,” she said, her voice wavering. It wasn’t like her to voice what she wanted so openly—because Monroe was used to hiding behind her snark and her prickles. Behind sarcasm and jokes. Behind her walls.
His wicked smile soothed any remaining fears about whether or not she could trust him with her body. This might not be a real relationship, but this was real attraction. It was real chemistry.
Don’t let your heart get involved…
The light caught on the golden lengths of his hair as he kissed his way up her inner thigh. Warm breath brushed over her skin, excitement vibrating in the air around her. He lowered his head and brought his hands to her underwear, dragging it over her hips and down her thighs.
When he came back to her, his tongue brushed tentatively against the sensitive skin of her sex. She let her head roll back. Ethan must have taken it as a sign of encouragement, because the gentle, tentative first stroke was worlds away from the next. He feasted on her, using his tongue and his lips until it felt like all the blood in her body had rushed to that exact spot. She was weightless. Dizzy. Sublimely floating on a cloud of pleasure.
“Yes, Ethan.” Her hips rocked against his mouth, one hand finding its way to his head so she could steady herself.
Her inner muscles clenched and she rocked against him, thighs trembling and her breathing coming harder and faster. Her mind narrowed to a pinpoint of euphoria and in that moment there was only one thing in the world—the feeling of his lips on her.
“I’m close,” she gasped.
He growled against her, the vibrations skittering through her body and fracturing at the last second in a billion glittering shards. Monroe shouted Ethan’s name, uncaring if her neighbors could hear them. All that mattered was the wave of release that was an avalanche on top of her. Burying her. Changing her forever.
Reminding her that this feeling was worth remembering.
…
Monroe’s cries could very well have been the best sound Ethan had ever heard. He’d certainly never had any complaints in bed—because he wasn’t one of those guys who thought sex was all about his own orgasm—but this was…something else.
That’s because it’s been a while. It’s not her, it’s sex.
Maybe. But something told him that was a load of self-protecting bullshit.
He rested his cheek on the inside of her thigh, enjoying the way she felt soft and smooth against him. There was no tension in her muscles, not even a twitch. She’d given herself over.
“All good up there?” he asked, knowing he sounded more than a touch arrogant. But she seemed to enjoy the game they had going—big, bad out-of-towner versus a grumpy local. And he liked it, too.
“Not sure ‘good’ quite covers it.” She propped herself up on her forearms. Her big, brown eyes had a delicious sleepy haze to them and her cheeks were flushed.
“You’re stroking my ego.” He kissed the inside of her knee and rocked back on his heels, steadying himself with a hand on either side of her on the bed. “I enjoyed that very much.”
“Me too.” She watched him, like she was waiting to see what his next move would be. A touch of wariness crept back into her expression. Why, he had no idea.
The instance of distrust made his heart feel like it was going to punch out of his chest. How did she manage to get to him like that? His heart had no business here. But the relief he felt when she held her hand out and slipped her palm into his told him this wasn’t a normal encounter. This wasn’t normal sex.
It’s just sex. Casual, no strings or expectations required.
He came down onto the bed, still fully clothed, and planted one hand on either side of her head. He pressed his face into her neck and kissed her skin, sucking in the scent of her perfume. It was lemon and something… Sweet with a load of bite. Like h
er.
Her hair was a mess, curls escaping all around her face from where she’d rocked her head against the bed. She was sex personified—gloriously messy and unrestrained.
“You’re going to need to get undressed for the next part,” she said, reaching out to smooth a palm up and under his sweater. He had a T-shirt on underneath and she tugged at it to get to his bare stomach. “You are ridiculously ripped. Honestly, it’s almost a joke.”
He let out a husky laugh. “Don’t. I have a complex about my hideous muscles.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Mr. Aussie Hottie, driving all small-town women wild with a single glance. Yeah, you’re a real Quasimodo.”
“You saying I drive you wild?” he teased, nipping at her neck.
“I’d like to say no, but I guess my current position would indicate otherwise.”
He pressed her against the bed, his lips parting hers for a searing kiss. She raked her nails down his chest and over his abs until she grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and sweater in one, and pulled them up and over his head.
Ethan helped the process along, tossing them onto the floor with her discarded clothes.
“Simply hideous,” she said, eyes glittering and lips curved into a cheeky smirk.
“Hey, what happened to me driving you wild?” He grinned.
Ethan was so hard he was at serious risk of busting the zipper on his jeans. Monroe must have sensed it, because she reached down and cupped him through the denim, her palm rubbing up and down his length.
“I’ll take you driving me wild as a consolation prize,” he rasped out.
“Good choice. You know I like being in charge.” She planted both hands on his chest and pushed him back. As she rose from the bed, she was a goddess who’d fallen down to earth. Aphrodite herself.
“I like you being in charge.”
“Good.” With a cheeky grin, she pointed at the bed. “Lay down. It’s my turn.”
He dropped down onto the bed and Monroe shoved him back into a laying position. This side of her was something else. Despite her hard edges, she’d never struck him as confident before. More defensive, protective, careful.
This moment was like watching a flower bloom into its full potential.
She dragged the zipper down and pulled both his jeans and his jocks over his legs. He levered his hips up to assist her, and her eyes never left him.
“I didn’t think we would do this,” she said as she dispensed of his clothing.
He grabbed the emergency condom from his wallet and then lay on the bed—which was small enough that he took up most of the space—his cock hard and laying up against his stomach. Monroe let her eyes wash over him, as though she was cataloguing every detail.
“That’s because I wasn’t your type…supposedly.” No sense in screwing with the dynamic now, he was going all in on the cockiness.
“No.” Her tone was serious for a moment. “I never thought I’d be here with any man.”
The words made him want to open his mouth and roar in pride that he was the one she’d chosen. He was the man who’d brought her to the brink, against all her expectations.
“Why me?”
It was a stupid thing, to go digging for information he didn’t want or need. Their relationship was fake, his stay in Forever Falls was temporary, and she had more baggage than a Louis Vuitton store. All of it spelled out that anything more than a quick romp was bad news.
Yet he couldn’t help being curious about her. He couldn’t help wanting more of her.
“You’re different than other people,” she said. “At least, you’re different with me.”
He had absolutely no clue what that meant.
But she shook herself, as if giving herself the reminder of why she was here. Then she crawled onto the bed and over him, her knees digging into the soft covers on either side of his hips. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest. Reaching for him, she wrapped her fingers around his cock in a way that drew a deep moan from the back of Ethan’s throat. Then she plucked the foil packet from his hand and dealt with their protection.
“You might have to go slow, okay?” She sucked in a breath, a little flash of uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “It’s been a while.”
Ethan smoothed his hands up her thighs. “All you gotta do is say stop if you need to, okay? I’m here to make you feel good.”
She nodded.
He slid his hands to the inside of her thighs and delved between her legs. The sharp sound of her gasp sent endorphins rocketing through him. She was so hot. So wet. Her forearms came up to brace against the bed, bringing her face close to his. Her hair fell in a curly sheet around them and it was like being under a blanket fort with her.
He pressed one finger inside and then two. The gentle rocking of her hips matched the timing of his strokes, and he felt her quiver.
“That’s good.” Monroe’s lips grazed his cheek as he warmed her up. “So good.”
He watched the pleasure roll over her face like a storm. In here, it seemed that she was a lot easier to read. There was an openness he hadn’t seen in her before, a willingness to let him get a peek behind the curtain.
“You’re sexy as hell, you know that?” He growled as he felt her clench around his fingers and she hummed in response.
His hands were all over her—cupping her breasts, grabbing her hips, parting the slick folds of her sex. She panted, and her head dropped down so that her forehead rested against his. He could see her eyes in detail at this closeness, all the shades of brown from the almost black ring around her irises, to the coffee and chocolate shades in the center.
Working Monroe up into a frenzied state was incredible, but his cock was begging for release. So when she dropped her hand down between them and filled her palm with him, Ethan groaned.
“Monroe.” He thrust slowly into her palm. “I need to be inside you.”
“I’m ready.”
Sliding his hand over her backside, he guided her down on him. When he pushed inside, easing them into position and giving her a moment to adjust, he had to shutter his eyes for a brief moment. She was tight and so hot he had to stop himself from finishing with one thrust.
Monroe crushed her mouth against his, greedily seeking his tongue. Nipping at his lips. Encouraging him. Teasing him. He sank his fingers into her backside and thrust up into her, burying himself over and over.
“Ethan,” she moaned, rocking back and forth to meet his pace. “I think I’m going to…oh yes.”
She clenched around him as she came, her moans turning to cries as she tipped over the edge again. He wanted to hold on—to let her have her moment before he sought his own release—but the sight of her face flushed with pleasure and the sound of his name on her lips was too much. He buried his face against her hair as he came, wrapping his arms around her so tight it was like he never wanted to let go.
Her lips peppered his skin and when she sighed, a satisfied hum vibrating against his chest, Ethan knew that neither one of them was faking it.
Chapter Fifteen
Sometime later, Monroe stirred. An unfamiliar scene greeted her.
Her bedsheets were rumpled, the duvet piled into a messy heap at the foot of the bed. Outside her window, the sky was indigo velvet. Inside, the room was almost dark, with only the glow of a streetlamp below to keep them from being plunged into shadows. It had been light out when they’d stumbled into her bedroom and then…
She looked up at Ethan. He had one muscular arm flung across her pillow and she was nestled into the space next to him, her cheek against his chest and one of her legs draped over his while he curled an arm around her shoulders. It had felt so perfectly normal. Familiar, even though it shouldn’t.
Real.
It’s not real.
She swung her feet over the side of the bed and pressed them into t
he cool floorboards, steadying herself. He was breathing soundly and there was something almost angelic about him—with his rumpled blond hair and warm gold stubble and the slight smile hovering on his lips. It was almost like he was an angel who’d tumbled out of the sky and landed in her bed.
Shaking her head at herself for being so corny, she got out of the bed and pulled the duvet up and over him, making sure he was warm. Ethan didn’t even stir.
Monroe slipped a bathrobe on, shivering a little at how cool the apartment felt as she pulled the belt tight. Stuffing her feet into some slippers, she headed into the living area and softly closed the door to the bedroom behind her. Out here, she was greeted by a familiar, albeit long-forgotten, sight.
Her kitchen was creative chaos, with flour dusted across the countertop and just less than a dozen cupcakes still sitting in the tray. The surface was littered with tools and ingredients and for a second Monroe wondered if she’d figured out a way to turn back time.
Only back then, she’d lived in a small but beautiful home, with a pretty garden full of edible blooms that she loved to use in her baking. A place that had personal pictures on the walls and a kitchen full of things she loved to use.
These days she often grabbed something from the diner to eat at home. Or perhaps a quick meal from one of the local takeout places. Often, she didn’t even bother with that, opting for a piece of toast and some peanut butter instead.
But now, looking at this kitchen that reflected who she used to be, Monroe wasn’t sure how to feel.
She knew more than anyone how dangerous it was to dream. Disappointment was the misalignment between desire and reality, and she’d been misaligned for a very long time. But the way Ethan made her feel…
She couldn’t help grinning like a fool.
Her hands itched to work, to create. She went into the kitchen and cleaned up the mess from her cupcakes, popping the little cakes without frosting into an airtight container. Then she put the frosting in another container and popped it into the fridge. In seconds, her cupboard doors were open and she was pulling more things out—a cake tin, another bowl for her stand mixer, cocoa power, and more butter.
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