Tempting

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Tempting Page 40

by Crystal Kaswell


  We swim around, laughing and splashing, until I'm too cold to keep swimming. I pull my arms over my chest and rub my triceps

  "Come here. I'll keep you warm," he says.

  No thinking here. I nod.

  He moves closer. Then his body is against mine, his arms are around my waist, his breath is on my neck. "You look fucking amazing, Vi."

  My chest flushes. I'm warm and cold at the same time. "You look amazing too."

  "God, last night… I wanted you so bad. Almost dragged you back to the couch."

  I press my forehead to his chin. "What stopped you?"

  "I don't want to scare you away." He slides his hands to my ass. "Tell me you want to fuck me."

  "Here?"

  "Anywhere."

  "I do." I drag my fingertips over his side. He's wet and slippery but he's still so damn warm. "But… I… you destroyed me, Ethan. I don't want my heart broken again."

  "Me either." He presses his palm into my ass and pulls my body against his.

  He's hard.

  "I want to fuck you, Vi. I want to bury my cock in you." His voice gets low, needy. "But I want you to come on my hands more."

  "Ethan…"

  "Tell me you want me to get you off."

  I shudder as his lips brush my neck.

  I look into his eyes, trying to find his intention. I haven't got a clue. The only thing I see is desire.

  "What does it mean?" I ask.

  "Been trying to take this slow, but I want you too badly for that." He presses his forehead to mine. "It means I want to feel you come."

  "But after that?"

  "After that, I want to make you come again."

  Yes. That sounds perfect. I dig my fingers into his back. "Okay."

  "Turn around."

  I do. I'm not cold anymore.

  I'm on fire.

  He slides my bikini bottoms off my hips. Then his palm is on my hip and it's pinning my ass to his crotch. He's still hard. I want that. I want every inch of him.

  He drags his lips over my neck. Then it's his teeth. Pleasure floods my body as he bites me.

  "Harder." I rock my hips to grind my ass against his crotch.

  He bites harder. Harder. Hard enough I cry out with a mix of pleasure and pain.

  My eyelids press together. "Don't stop."

  He still knows every nook and cranny of my body. He keeps me pinned to him, waiting for his touch as he plants kisses up and down my neck and shoulder. He moves to the other side. Then he traces his steps with soft nibbles.

  He uses his free hand to push the strap of my bikini top off my shoulder. He's painfully slow about dragging his hand down my chest.

  I grind against him as he traces the top of the demi-cup. Finally, he pushes it aside. My breast spills out.

  He toys with my nipple as he drags his teeth along my neck. Then his teeth are sinking into my skin. It's hard enough it will leave a mark. It's hard enough my neck will be dotted with hickies.

  It should concern me that Mal, Joel, and Kit will offer their opinions on the matter.

  It should concern me that Ethan really is showing me how much he knows about public indecency.

  It should concern me that I'm about ready to offer him anything, literally anything, if he'll just touch me.

  But it doesn't.

  Right now, I feel only two things—the pleasure of his touch and the prick of pain as he sinks his teeth into my neck.

  "Please." I reach back for his ass.

  He groans and drags his fingertips over my chest. Then he's pushing my other strap off my shoulder, pushing my bikini top to my waist, palming my breasts with both hands.

  He rubs my nipples with his thumbs. Then his forefinger, his middle finger, his ring finger, even his pinkie.

  My sex clenches. My body has missed those hands. His touch is the best thing I've felt in the last two years.

  But I need more.

  "Please," I breathe. "Ethan… please, I need you."

  "Say it again."

  "I need you."

  He groans with pleasure as he drags one hand down my stomach. His fingers are that same amazing mix of soft skin and rough callouses.

  The moment those fingers stroke my clit, I melt. I'm putty. My knees buckle. My muscles go slack.

  But he's got me. He slides his free hand around my waist and holds my body against his.

  Then his lips are on my neck and his hand is on me. The water makes his touch slippery. It's a different kind of pressure, softer and harder at once.

  He starts with long, slow strokes. Every one sends a wave of pleasure through my torso. I hold onto his hips for balance, but it's not enough.

  Ethan turns me around. It brings us face to face. There's more in his eyes than desire. I'm not sure I believe that it's possible for this to be a one-time thing.

  But I don't want it to be a one-time thing.

  I need more of him.

  All of him.

  He presses his lips to mine. The kiss starts soft then gets harder. His tongue slides into my mouth. One hand goes around my waist and holds me in place. The other slides between my legs to stroke me.

  He goes right to the spot that always gets me off.

  Two years and he remembers.

  We haven't had sex since before Asher-

  Ethan groans into my mouth. He pulls my body closer as his touch gets more insistent. I groan back and slide my hands around his neck.

  Dammit, this feels so good.

  I let go of my last conscious thought. My body takes over. My fingers dig into the hard muscles of his back. My tongue dances with his.

  He still tastes like home.

  The tension in my core knots. Every stroke of his fingers pulls it tighter and tighter. So tight I have to break free of his kiss to groan.

  He drags his lips over my neck. His teeth scrape against my skin.

  With his next stroke, I go over the edge. My sex pulses as I come. I can feel the orgasm everywhere. Pleasure spreads all the way to the top of my head and the very tips of my toes.

  I should be asking myself what this means. I should be concerned by how much I want my ex to make me come again.

  But I'm not.

  For once, I'm in the moment. And it's a great fucking moment.

  Ethan pulls my bikini back in place. His lips brush my ear. "I love watching you come."

  I don't know what to say, so I kiss him.

  I kiss him like I'll never get another chance to kiss him again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ethan

  Taking it slow is fucking difficult. Especially with Violet in that tiny bikini, her body soft and pliable in my arms.

  Somehow, I manage to drag myself away from her. Somehow, I manage to get back into my clothes for long enough to take her to dinner. The Mexican place we stumble into is amazing. The steak tacos are chewy and juicy with plenty of tart lime and sharp cilantro. I've been avoiding Mexican food since Violet left—a feat in southern California, where not liking tacos is akin to not liking breathing. Eating dripping street tacos with Violet is like coming home.

  It feels right.

  Feels comfortable the way my favorite pair of jeans does.

  When we finish eating, we walk back to the hotel, hand in hand. It's like old times, when we were together.

  I walk her all the way to her hotel room.

  She shifts her weight between her legs as she pulls her keycard from her jeans. Her green eyes fill with desire but there's uncertainty in them too.

  Not doing this until she's certain.

  "Thanks, Ethan. I missed swimming." She brushes her hair behind her ears then reaches up to do the same to me. Her fingertips skim my jaw. "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun."

  "Me either."

  "Really?"

  I nod. I love getting on stage. I do a lot of fun shit with the guys on tour. Do a lot of anonymous women. But none of that compares to Violet. When she smiles… it's like the sun is breaking over the
horizon.

  I've always liked to entertain. That's what drew me to the guitar in the first place. I live to get people laughing, smiling, screaming, gasping.

  Always feels good to cause a reaction but Violet's reactions are in a different league.

  "I… I'm glad we have these, what is it now, eight more days together?" She drags her fingertips over the edges of her keycard. "Mind if I take a raincheck on the remake of The Fly?"

  "I should practice."

  "Still a perfectionist."

  Yes, but- "I'm filling in for Drew, the Sinful Serenade guitarist, tomorrow. His fiancée is pregnant. He's going to a doctor's appointment with her. I'm his backup."

  Her lips curl into a smile. There's something in her eyes, something I can't place. It's something good. Almost like pride.

  "It's no big deal." I run my hand through my hair. "Just helping a friend."

  She nods, but she's still looking at me like I'm a saint. She sees through me. It is a big deal. It's a lot of work and a lot of pressure. Don't get me wrong. I can do it. I'm glad to do it.

  But it's a big fucking deal.

  God damn, I want her looking at me like that forever.

  Or at least until I start stripping her out of her clothes.

  Fuck. Need to get out of here before I forget about taking it slow.

  "I'll see you at the sound check tomorrow?" I ask.

  "At the show. I have to catch up on school work after I finish with the books." She looks up at me. "Don't work too hard."

  "You either."

  She laughs. "We're so full of it, huh?"

  I raise a brow.

  "About working. We're addicted."

  "Yeah." But I know how to get her mind off her studies. I slide my hand around her waist and pull her into a deep kiss.

  Violet arches her back as she groans into my mouth. She wants more.

  Every part of me, one in particular, wants more.

  Somehow, I manage to pull back. I press my forehead to hers. "Goodnight, Vi."

  "Goodnight, Ethan." She looks back at me as she steps inside her room.

  It takes every bit of self-control I have, but I do manage to talk myself out of knocking on her door and insisting she come on my hand again.

  I've filled in for Drew twice so far. Did all right both times. But all right isn't good enough.

  God damn, I'm sweating bullets here. It's three minutes until Sinful Serenade is going on stage. I should be loose and relaxed with damn, Dangerous Noise killed it energy.

  But I'm not.

  I go through my warm-up stretches. At this point, I'm already warm, but it gives me something to do.

  Mal pats me on the back. "You okay?"

  I'm not okay and he knows it. I smile back at him. "Great, thanks."

  He shakes his head: one day you'll get it. "If you want to back down, I know the Sinful Serenade setlist as well as you do."

  I stare daggers at Mal.

  He chuckles. "Break a leg." He pats me on the back then makes his way to his Bay Area fuck buddy, a brunette in jeans and a tight red sweater.

  She lights up when he greets her. He leans in to whisper—I don't need to go there.

  Mal has half a dozen fuck buddies scattered around the country. He has a girl everywhere except southern California. When we're home, Mal spends all his free time with Piper.

  Okay. Enough about my brother's habits.

  Need my head in the game. We've got two minutes to show time. I start on another round of stretches.

  A familiar voice stops me. "I've never seen you this nervous." Violet squeezes my hand. She looks up at me. "Anything I can do?"

  There's a lot she can do but none of it gets my head in the game. "Wish me luck."

  "Good luck." She rises to her tiptoes and brushes her lips against mine. "If luck isn't enough, take off your clothes. I guarantee that will win the crowd over."

  I laugh. "Nothing to do with you wanting to see me naked?"

  "Ethan, please. I'm only concerned about the artistry of your performance."

  "One minute!" The stage manager, a short, balding guy named Jim with a clipboard and a bad attitude, calls out. "Where the fuck is everybody?" He hightails it to the Sinful Serenade dressing room.

  Violet squeezes my hand and takes a step backwards. "I'll be watching."

  That isn't helping get my head in the game either. I take a deep breath. There's Miles, the Sinful Serenade singer, offering Jim a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Poor Jim is a wreck. Miles is cool as a cucumber.

  The stage lights turn off. The crowd claps and cheers. Then they're chanting. Damn, must be nice to be that popular.

  Miles winks at me. "Break a leg." He makes his way to the stage.

  Then it's Tom and Pete. I've known the Steele brothers since forever. We were all in a band together back in high school. Had to quit when my parents bailed to study the gorillas in Africa. They're the same as they were then. Tom is a ball of energy. Pete is stoic and quiet. When he talks, it's usually about sex. Or to fight with Tom. They bicker like an old married couple.

  Tom motions for me to follow him. I do. It was barely an hour ago that I stepped onto this stage, but that can't compare to this.

  I can feel the energy of the crowd in my bones. Their cheers echo around the room.

  I take my place on stage, guitar around my shoulders, feet in a boxer's shuffle.

  The lights flicker on. That's my cue. I'm the one who starts this. The crowd screams as I strum my guitar. My nerves make my fingers slow and stupid. Little by little, I shake off everything but the music flowing from my instrument and the energy flowing back from the crowd.

  The crowd bursts into applause when we finish the first song.

  Miles looks back to me and motions come here. Then he's blowing kisses to the crowd. "I'm sure you all remember Mr. Ethan Strong, the lead guitarist of Dangerous Noise."

  The crowd cheers and claps for me the same way they do for Sinful Serenade. Then people are chanting my name.

  Miles laughs. "He's doing us a big favor filling in for Drew tonight." He waits until the crowd stops screaming for Drew. "He wanted to be here, but his girl's expecting and he's quite the committed baby daddy."

  The cheers get the loudest they've been. I guess it figures that Sinful Serenade's predominantly female fan base would swoon over a responsible rock star father-to-be.

  "I know you're crying your eyes out that I'm off the market." Miles winks at me. He turns to the crowd as he holds up is left hand to show off his wedding ring. "But Ethan here is single. So how about you let him know how badly you want him… to play."

  I know how to play my part. I'm the sexy manwhore guitarist. I find a girl in the general admission and wink at her. She gasps and squeezes her friend's arm.

  I look back to the side of the stage. Violet is standing there, watching me with a smile spread across her face. When she catches my gaze she motions take it off.

  Good advice. I tug at my t-shirt, teasing the crowd. The cheers get louder. Louder. Fuck it. I pull the t-shirt over my head and toss it into the crowd.

  The woman who catches it squeals with pleasure.

  Miles laughs. He motions for me to hit my cue.

  And I do. This time, my fingers find their footing by the third note.

  The crowd screams as the lights go off.

  My hands are aching and I'm so slick with sweat my guitar won't stay in place.

  Instinct is the only thing that gets me off the stage. Then I'm backstage, being ushered by Jim into a private room. It's nice for a dressing room. It's clean, bright, and empty save for a couch and a table with snacks.

  Miles pats me on the shoulder. "Good job. You killed it."

  Tom nods. "Fucker, that's my line." He smiles at me then he turns to Miles. "You gotta remind women I'm taken or they'll get disappointed."

  "Yeah?" Miles raises a brow. "You think there's anybody alive who doesn't know you're married when you post photo by my wife next to every naked pic o
n your Instagram?"

  "Want to show off her talent." Tom laughs. "We're a talented couple."

  "Her name—" Miles motions to his hipbone "—is in half the shots. People get it." Miles turns to Pete, the Sinful Serenade bassist. "Did take balls getting Willow that close to his dick."

  Pete chuckles. He brushes a long, dark bang from his face and makes eye contact with me. "You did kill it, Ethan. We all owe you one."

  "You guys would have done the same." I slide my hand into the back pocket of my jeans.

  Tom shakes his head. "Fuck no. You couldn't pay me to play for three hours straight." He looks to Miles. "Would you?"

  Miles shakes his head.

  Pete too.

  "Damn, we're all old and jaded." Tom winks at me. "When I first picked up a pair of sticks, you had to pry me away from my drum kit. And Ethan jumped to fill in for Drew. Fuck, I should bow or some shit."

  "You should," Miles says.

  Tom does bow.

  I laugh. I appreciate the positive feedback, but I don't need another three guys looking at me like I'm their little brother.

  "You want to hit the town, Ethan? I know Miles is gonna say some shit about how he has to catch up on his reading. And I know my brother's about to head to his bunk for some way too loud phone sex." Tom sticks his tongue out in disgust.

  Pete chuckles. "Don't listen if you don't like it."

  "Don't have a fucking choice in the matter. You're loud on purpose," Tom says.

  "That's how Jess likes it. Not about to leave her high and dry because you can't bother to buy ear plugs." Pete feigns innocence.

  Miles says, "At least he's creative. When you do it—"

  "Like you're better." Tom folds his arms, indignant. He looks to me. "What do you say, Ethan? You a boring old man like the three of us or you want to have some fun?"

  Miles laughs. He leans against the wall as he turns to me. "Didn't you see the hot redhead who was staring at his ass?"

  Tom nods. "I have eyes. And I know Violet. They were unstoppable together. I was sure you were gonna put a ring on that."

  "With a girl that fine—you gotta let her know you're committed," Miles says.

  "Give him a break. He's just a kid," Tom says.

  "How old are you, Ethan?" Miles asks.

  "Twenty-four."

 

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