Styled (Travesty Book 4)

by Piper Lawson

  “Faster,” I whispered.

  “You bored?” His sexy voice rumbled against my back, vibrated on my neck. Ethan worked another finger inside, sending new shockwaves through me as my body struggled to keep up. The backs of my eyes burned.

  If this was what Ethan did, I understood why girls would line up for a night in the back of his BMW. The rest of me was gone, and all that was left was the girl on the bike. The one who lived for this moment. For each spark of feeling, racing through my body. For the need lighting me up like a storm splitting the sky on a hot summer night.

  “You want to come on my fingers. Say it.”

  I was glad he couldn’t see the way I flushed.

  There was no way that was going to happen. Not now, not like this.

  “Say it,” he repeated. I shook my head.

  Ethan’s fingers slowed, then disappeared. The desperate sound of protest that escaped my lips was not approved by my brain.

  “Jordan,” he murmured, expectant.

  I swallowed. “Why.”

  He trailed a damp finger over my stomach. His lips brushed my neck before he whispered in my ear. “Because I need to know you want it as much as I want to give it to you.”

  Fuck.

  His voice was tight, like he was struggling with control too. In that moment I would’ve told him anything he wanted to hear.

  “Ethan…yes. I want it. I want you.” The small, breathy voice didn’t sound like mine, but it didn’t matter. Ethan shoved down my shirt and bra to squeeze me in his hand. The feeling of his flesh on mine was almost enough to send me over.

  When he slid two thick fingers inside me and pressed down on my clit, I lost myself.

  My cry startled both of us, echoing off the walls of the garage as I exploded.

  “Shit, Jordan. That’s right, just like that.” Ethan murmured against my neck as I shook in his arms.

  I’d never felt anything like this. Not with Colt. Not alone. It was different giving yourself up to someone. Especially Ethan, who knew exactly what you wanted.

  No. What you needed.

  Because there was no way I would’ve asked for what he’d done. What we’d done.

  My body squeezed his fingers. I had a vise grip on his shoulders, my only anchor as I rode out the feeling.

  The last shockwaves had me trembling against him. His lips soothed the skin on my neck, his breathing still erratic against my ear.

  He shifted off the bike and hit the keypad to close the garage door. It hadn’t occurred to me that anyone could’ve walked by, could’ve seen what we were doing.

  Not that I cared. I could barely stand. My legs wobbled when I rose.

  Ethan returned, stopping in front of me. “You ready?”

  “For what.”

  “Me.” I didn’t have to ask what Ethan meant. I could tell by the tightness in his jaw, the heaving of his chest. His stance, aggressive and primal.

  “Unless you want to pack up,” he said under his breath. “Go home. I’ll drop you off and you can spend the rest of the day making that slideshow.”

  He was giving me an out. Being a gentleman.

  He closed the distance between us, reaching up to brush a finger over my lip. Innocent until I realized that, fuck, I could taste myself on his fingers.

  OK, not a gentleman. But the move had my blood pounding harder in my veins, racing toward some unknown destination.

  This was happening. Even before I whispered, “fuck the slideshow.”

  Satisfaction blurred with lust on Ethan’s face.

  “Take off the jacket.”

  I stripped it off, tossing it on the workbench next to me with a shaky hand.

  Ethan followed suit. First the jacket, then the shirt. I let my eyes play over the muscles of his chest, his arms. I might not know the rules but somehow I knew this was OK. When my attention finally returned to his face he raised a brow.

  I reached for the hem of my shirt, my heart hammering as I stripped it off.

  Ethan growled as he stepped into me, taking my face in his hands when he kissed me, hard and desperate.

  I reached for him, the muscles I couldn’t reach when he’d been behind me.

  Ethan started to move us to the door. My fumbling hands found the zipper of his jeans but Ethan lifted me, carrying me to the workbench.

  My legs around his waist, I kicked off my shoes while he worked on my jeans. I unhooked my ankles long enough for him to strip the denim down my legs, tugging it off forcefully. My hands shook against his flat stomach as I worked the button, then the zipper, on his.

  I shoved down his jeans and shorts before I could think twice, and my eyes widened.

  “Are you serious?”

  It was so different from when he’d sent me the picture. That was impersonal. This was real. Raw.

  He chuckled. “It’s your fault. See how hard you make me?” he murmured thickly. “It’s fucking maddening what you do to me when you’re not even trying.”

  I’d never thought of myself as sexy. Awkward, yeah. Wiry. Not capable of making a gorgeous, confident guy want me.

  Unless he had serious vision problems.

  But every reservation had been burned out of me. This was an alternate universe with nothing bad, nothing wrong. Nothing off-limits.

  So I reached out, wrapping my hand around him. My thumb brushed the smooth head of his shaft, and he let out a stream of curses that made my body tingle.

  “Are you on the pill?”

  “Yeah. Cramps.” Too much information.

  Ethan blew out a breath. “I get tested every month. I’m clean. I promise.”

  Something thrilled in me hearing Ethan say promise. It was so damn high school, but I wanted him bound to me for something. And I believed him. Trusted him.

  I nodded. Ethan’s eyes darkened as he pulled my hips to the edge of the workbench.

  I laid a hand on his bare chest. His skin was hot silk under my fingers. “Wait. What if this sucks?”

  Ethan winced. “First, you really know how to break a guy’s ego. Second…” The pained expression fell away and a smile pulled at his mouth. “If it sucks, we’ll deal. It’s only sex.”

  I focused on his confidence, grabbed it and hung on. “It’s not going to make things weird.”

  “No. Because, Jersey, I know something you don’t know.”

  “What’s that?”

  He dropped his mouth to mine, kissing me until I was breathless again. “It’s not going to suck.”

  He steadied my hip in his hand and my attention went back to his cock. I swallowed as I watched him position himself between my legs. Felt him brush my skin.

  “You ready?”

  No.

  “Yes.”

  Then he pressed against me.

  I focused on his face, the strain in it.

  Until I felt my body open up for him.

  “Oh. Oh shit.”

  Just when I thought he had to be in, I glanced down and realized he wasn’t, not nearly. He must’ve taken my look as an invitation, because he flexed his hips and thrust the rest of the way inside.

  I arched backward, my mouth falling open.

  I was suddenly, impossibly full. All I could feel was where we were joined. Ethan groaned against my temple. Every muscle in him was hard and flexed. “You’re so fucking tight.”

  “You’re so fucking big,” I retorted. My body was focused on one thing, and that was adjusting to the feel of Ethan buried in me.

  His hands cupped my ass, lifting me. Like he wasn’t content to let me rest on the table. He needed me closer, tighter, higher. My breath came in short gasps.

  “You OK?” he muttered, his gaze finding mine.

  And looking into his aqua eyes, just a breath away, was what affected me more than anything.

  We were actually doing this. Me, and Ethan, and…

  Yeah.

  It was crazy, but it was happening.

  I nodded, my nose bumping his. Because I was OK. And the discomfort w
as fading, dissolving into a delicious fullness as the reality of what we were doing set in.

  So enjoy it.

  I reached one arm around his neck, the other braced behind me. Holding me against him and keeping me tethered to the rest of the world.

  Ethan started rocking into me, and my body trembled.

  I’d figured Ethan would be self-centered. But his focus was entirely on me. His gaze captured mine, moving between my eyes and my mouth. Every moan from my lips, every tremor of my body captured his attention. Made him speed up, or slow down, or brush his mouth over mine to swallow my sounds.

  There’d been hints of this intensity in our conversations, but I’d had no idea of the depth of it. Seeing him like this, hearing his rough breathing, feeling his fingers dig into my ass? It was sexier than any dream I could’ve conjured up.

  Ethan changed the angle, tilting my hips up higher before moving into me again. His body was incredible, the muscles bunching and working together. His chest was smooth, tight, toned pecs and flat nipples, his neck flexing as he lifted and lowered me on him.

  I let out a little whimper because it did feel good. Like something pulling at me from the inside. Teasing me.

  A look of pure male satisfaction crossed his face. And fuck, that sexy look helped too. Knowing that I put it there.

  Little by little, the last of my self-consciousness was burned away. By Ethan’s attention, his body, his damned confidence. I reached both arms around his neck, pulling his mouth back to mine. Pressing my tongue between his lips. Showing him what I wanted as my fingers dug into Ethan’s shoulders.

  He groaned, grabbing my ass and lifting me off the bench. I gripped him with both hands as he swung me around.

  Pain sliced through me as he pressed me against the wall. “Ow!”

  “Sorry.” He shifted me down a few feet. It registered dully that he’d shoved me against a utility hook.

  But the pain didn’t matter. Something impossible was building in me. In him too.

  Ethan grunted with effort, sweat starting from the heat and what we were doing. Ethan’s fingers tightened on my ass. His thrusts sped up, and sweat beaded at his forehead from the effort. His were glassy on mine.

  I’d done this to him, I realized. We’d done this to each other.

  Power surged through me.

  Suddenly I was invested in this in a completely different way. I didn’t care if I made it to the second peak.

  I wanted to feel Ethan come.

  To see this guy who was used to getting his own way—with women and everyone else—come apart.

  It was all I wanted. Everything. Nothing else would satisfy the need inside me.

  “Ethan.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered. Ethan’s eyes flashed on mine, like he knew what I was thinking.

  I squeezed my body around him. I knew I’d done something right when he shuddered. “Jordan, that feels insanely good but I need you to stop…I can’t hold on if you keep doing that.”

  So I did it again.

  “Fucking hell,” Ethan muttered, his muscles jumping under my hands.

  “It’s OK.” I pulled myself closer, so my mouth brushed his ear. His hands dug into my skin. His breath was tight through his clenched jaw. “I want to feel you lose control.”

  I moved my hips again, the only way I could given our position. It was clumsy but he groaned, the sound wrenched from deep inside him. “Awww, shit!”

  Then Ethan’s body jerked against mine, and suddenly I was holding him, stroking the back of his neck. I was warm everywhere. Warm and wet and perfect, as he let go of everything…

  Except me.

  18

  Jordan

  I’m not a morning person. Coming back to consciousness had the same fuzzy feeling as trying to wake up too early.

  All I could feel was heaviness. All I could hear was my heart racing.

  Not mine, Ethan’s.

  Ethan’s.

  It was at least another minute before I could hear sounds from outside. Identifying them was a whole other story.

  A bird? A car?

  Who cares.

  Somehow we’d ended up on the workbench, and the rough wood scratched my back. I barely noticed, because all I could feel was the weight of Ethan’s body crushing mine.

  We lay there another minute until a new noise outside caught my attention.

  “Is that—”

  “An engine. It’s probably my mom home from work.” Ethan stiffened, his voice tight.

  OK, now I’m awake.

  Ethan shoved off me and started working on his jeans, an alertness I’d never seen in his every move. I looked around for my shirt. “Will she come in the garage?”

  “Front door. We have about two minutes.”

  I found my bra on top of my dirty jeans, wincing as I pulled it on.

  I lifted Ethan’s shirt from the floor. “Catch.” He turned just as I threw it, and it hit him in the face.

  I rummaged around and found my shirt.

  “Have you seen my underwear?”

  “Ethan? Is that you?” a voice called from the house.

  “Shit!” I pulled on my jeans.

  Ethan stuck his head up from behind the table, holding up my panties. I held out my hand for them and he jerked them away.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I hissed, narrowing my eyes.

  “You might be good at math, but I can count to two.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I owe you an orgasm.” His blue eyes were serious on mine. “And these—” he held up my panties with his forefinger “—are my security.”

  Ethan stuffed them in his jeans as my jaw dropped.

  I followed him into the house.

  Because, really, what the hell else could I do.

  “Mom. Look who I found.”

  “Jordan!” Ava and Dylan’s mom pulled me into a hug. “I haven’t seen you since last year. What are you doing here?”

  “Just looking for some decorations for the wedding. I hope that’s OK.”

  “Of course. Thank you for bringing this one home. We never see him.”

  “Come on, that’s not true,” Ethan complained.

  “You two have to stay for dinner,” she insisted. “You’ve driven all the way here.”

  The hope in her voice was sweet. I glanced at Ethan, expecting him to refuse. I remembered all those phone calls coming in before we’d left on the bike. And the ones he’d made in the car. It sounded like he had a million and one things to do…and hell, I had at least half that many.

  Ethan considered. “Tell you what, Mom. Jordan and I can stay but we’ve been in the garage all day, and we’re pretty dirty. Can we shower first?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I trailed Ethan down the hall. He opened the linen closet and produced towels.

  “If you want to change, there are probably some clothes of Ava’s…” I followed him into the room, where he pulled open a dresser drawer before turning to face me.

  “I can use my parents’ shower if you want to use that one.”

  “Thanks.”

  His gaze was heavy on mine, like leaving behind his mom meant everything we’d just done was hanging between us again. I could smell sweat and, standing just a few inches from him, the faintest hint of something darker. I let out a shaky breath.

  Small talk was awkward at the best of times. What did you say to someone after you hooked up with them impulsively in a garage?

  “Jordan, what do you like on your pizza?” Mrs. C called from the hallway.

  I took the coward’s way out. “Anything but anchovies,” I called back, ducking under Ethan’s arm before grabbing a clean tank top from Ava’s dresser and a towel from the linen closet.

  The shower pelted down on my skin, washing away the day.

  I leaned my forehead against the tile, feeling the water run over my skin.

  Aside from a couple of near-misses in high school, Colton was my sexual yardstick. And Ethan ha
d pummeled that yardstick into the ground.

  I emerged from the shower, trying to ignore the part of me that suddenly wondered what it would be like to do it in the shower, with the water running over both of us.

  There might never be a next time, I reminded myself. We got carried away in the moment.

  Then why are you going commando because your underwear are in his pocket?

  I shoved down the questions as I pulled on my jeans, plus a fresh tank top of Ava’s in a purple I never wore.

  Ethan was just settling into his chair when I entered the dining room, looking distracting in a white undershirt over jeans.

  “Ethan,” his mother was chastising. “You don’t have any clean shirts here? You know, the kind that don’t look like they’re made from kitchen rags?”

  Without permission, my eyes fell to his arms, tracing the lines of muscle that were always hidden by dress shirts. The ones I wanted to trace with my fingers.

  Then my tongue.

  When my attention finally went back to Ethan’s face, he was smirking.

  “Sorry, Mom.”

  Mrs. Cameron sighed. “All right, then. Let me get us some plates.” She turned her back and I shook my head at him.

  Stop it, he mouthed.

  You, I mouthed back.

  Ethan’s gaze was hot with intent as he sunk his perfect teeth into his lower lip.

  Jesus.

  If I’d thought he would start pulling punches the moment we’d made out in Vegas, I was so wrong. If anything he’d taken off the gloves. Whatever was between us before hadn’t evaporated, but changed into something more powerful. Now I was still attracted to him but the added layer of soreness between my legs, the memory of how he’d made me shake against his body and the bike, had me wanting more.

  The pizza arrived, carried in the door by Mr. Cameron. He had the same height and broad shoulders as his sons, and was dressed casually in jeans and a tucked-in shirt. I remembered that he worked at an engineering firm where Dylan had interned for the summer.

  We did introductions before digging in.

  “How’s Travesty going, Jordan?” Mrs. C took my attention as I devoured a slice of pizza. “I heard you’re launching in LA.”