Page 117 of Fool Moon First Aid

When we part, breathless and flushed, his gaze is filled with astonishment and something more profound. “I…I didn’t expect…” He stumbles over his words.

“You didn’t expect me to kiss you?” I tease, smoothing his tousled hair. “You’ve hidden yourself away for so long, it’s no wonder you doubted anyone could see the real you.”

He blinks slowly, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “I know you may not forgive me, but will you let me show you who I truly am?”

“Yes,” I whisper, already convinced of Ethan Hughes’ true nature—the gentlest alpha I’ve ever encountered. Perhaps selfishly, I wish to keep that side just for me. “And you’re right,” I add, kissing the corner of his mouth, “I do expect a bit more groveling.”

“Let me begin now,” he murmurs, capturing my lips once more.

Our kiss deepens, fueled by a passion and urgency that’s impossible to ignore. Ethan’s hands explore my back, pulling me closer into his embrace as our tongues dance. His fingers find their way into my hair, gently tugging at the ends, as if to confirm the reality of this connection. My hands weave through his hair, the soft strands sending tingles down my spine and igniting a fire within me.

Surrounded by the tangible evidence of Ethan’s tenderness, it’s clear we’re both on the cusp of something new—a relationship built on a foundation of honesty and mutual respect. When we finally break for air, our panting breaths and shared smiles speak volumes.

Kissing Ethan is like standing on top of a mountain and looking at the valley below. I know I can’t fly, and yet I want to swan dive off that mountain just to feel the earth-shattering bliss he can give me.

“I think,” Ethan says between breaths, “we should explore this… this side of us more often.”

“Agreed,” I reply, our lips meeting once again. I can’t get enough of his touch, of his lips, of him.

I lose myself in Ethan Hughes, every touch sparking a wildfire of desire that races through my veins. The world fades away in his embrace, leaving only the heat of his skin against mine, the strength of his arms, and the tender yet urgent pressure of his lips. It’s a dance of give and take, a sensual rhythm that pulls me deeper into the moment, into him. I drown in a sea of passion that whispers promises of endless nights and shared secrets in the dark.

I’m struck by the realization that this is the Ethan I’ve always sensed beneath the surface—the one who goes to great lengths to comfort others, even at the expense of his own image. His ability to show such gentleness, despite expectations of toughness, reveals his true strength. I can’t help feeling a twinge of guilt, recognizing that I, too, have played a role in reinforcing the stereotype he feels pressured to uphold.

Pulling away slightly, I catch my breath and seize the moment for honesty. “Ethan, I’m sorry too,” I tell him, caressing his cheek. “I’ve also been guilty of expecting you to always be the rock. I put you in a little box that you didn’t deserve to be in.”

He nods in understanding, his hands moving to my hips with a newfound intensity. His gaze, dark with desire, mirrors my own escalating passion. “I should be that alpha, but around you, I just want to be yours, and I went too far.”

“Ethan,” I whisper, tracing my fingers over the contours of his muscular chest. The thin material of his shirt does little to mask the heat emanating from him, fueling my desire. His eyes, heavy with longing, watch me intently, amplifying my arousal with every glance.

“Show me, Ethan. Show me what it looks like to belong to you without expectations,” I urge in a husky tone. He responds with a mischievous grin, the lustful alpha beneath me now fully unveiled. With swift movements, he removes my shirt, discarding it without a second thought. His gaze lingers on my exposed skin, savoring every inch.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, admiration in his tone as his hands roam over me, his touch igniting my senses. My lace bra barely contains my response to his caresses, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. “You’re perfect.”

He kisses a trail along my neck, each touch stoking the flame higher within me. When he grazes the mark Brody left, my whole body jerks as though electricity races out from that one touch.

“Do you want this?” Ethan’s voice is rough, his hand teasing the edge of my jeans. “With me?”

“Yes,” I gasp out, desperate for more, pressing myself closer to him. “I want your bite.”

His fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding the evidence of my arousal. The boldness of his actions sets off a rhythm of desire that leaves me writhing in his lap, on the brink of surrender.

A potent need swells within me—an urgent response to Ethan’s touch. “So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice sparking a thrill that courses through me.

My fingers, driven by a blend of anticipation and instinct, fumble with the buttons on his shirt, each one revealing more of his sculpted chest. The task of undoing his belt follows, and soon, he’s free from the confines of his trousers, the sight of him escalating my anticipation.

“Touch me,” he implores, guiding my hand to him. The feel of him, pulsing and velvety, induces a moan I struggle to suppress.

Encouraged by the strangled noises escaping him, I wrap my fingers tighter around him before sliding them down again. His hips buck into my touch, sending waves of erotic pleasure coursing through us.

Whimpers slip free of my lips.

Ethan lifts me up and gently lays me down on the plush carpet beneath us. His eyes drink in the sight before him as he slides my jeans off slowly. He hovers above me for a moment, his nostrils flaring at the scent of our shared arousal, before diving down between my legs.

Those dark eyes of his look up at me from between my legs, the sight erotic as he breathes over my core. His tongue sweeps over his lips, and then, with a smirk, he dives between my legs.

Warmth and wetness coils from his talented tongue, evoking euphoric reactions from deep within me. Every flick sends tremors rippling throughout my entire body until I’m consumed by a pleasure so intense, it leaves me gasping for breath.

His skilled tongue dances over my folds, plunging deeply within one moment and teasingly retreating the next, seeming intent on driving me mad one lick at a time. His strong hands hold my legs open until I leave them where he wants them, and then one finger slips inside my core.

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