Page 4 of Claim to Fame

Was he imagining things or did she seem like she’d been disappointed to think he might not make their rendezvous?

He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on the soft curve of her cheek. “I wasn't sure either.”

He’d debated not going, even though he’d read her text a thousand times between the moment it arrived on his phone and walking into the bar.

“What changed?”

What hadn’t changed? His friends, one by one, had gotten married and moved on to lives that didn’t revolve around their weekly trivia and board game nights. His daughter and his best friend had made him a grandfather last year. He was about to turn forty-five and what did he have to show for it? A thriving business, a secret life as an audiobook narrator of deliciously filthy romance novels, a family and friends he loved...and a bed he slept in alone.

Most of the time it didn’t bother him, but lately he’d begun to wonder.

Maybe he’d become too emotionally invested in the romances he narrated. Or maybe...

“I wanted to see you.”

From the lift of her eyebrow he could tell she thought it was a line. Ethan dropped his lips to her neck, sliding his kiss along the column of her throat, the curve of her clavicle. She tilted her head to give him better access as his lips drifted lower, through the valley between her breasts, and he got to his knees at her feet.

She sighed dreamily and dug her hands into his hair. “I’m glad you came.”

He pressed a kiss to the swell of her belly through the silky fabric of her top, focusing on the softness of her skin as his fingers found the hem and slipped beneath to stroke the dip of her waist. “No one’s come yet, sweetheart, but give me a minute and we’ll change that.”

She exhaled a soft laugh and ran a hand down the side of his face, stroking his beard. He turned his face up to her, watching the thoughts flit behind her eyes as she studied the scruff on his jaw. What he wouldn’t give to know what she was thinking.

But that wasn’t what they did, him and Hannah. They didn’t talk about anything important, nothing worthy of talking about anyway. They teased and they bantered and they fucked until neither one of them had any space left for thoughts.

And then they said goodbye.

He didn’t even know what she did for a living, or why she was in Boston. Just like she didn’t know the answers to those questions about him. One night, three years ago, they’d both been in the same hotel bar, lonely and willing to take a chance on a one-night stand with a stranger. They'd only exchanged phone numbers because he insisted on her letting him know she’d gotten home okay the next day, even if he didn’t know where home was.

He skated his hands down the backs of her legs, took a firm hold of her ankle and lifted, guiding her to step out of her high heels. She ran her fingers through his beard, through the hair at the back of his neck, as he dragged his hands back up over the curve of her calf, the length of her thigh. He never broke eye contact as he slid the zipper on her skirt down, the fabric falling into a pool at her feet.

Ethan pressed his lips to the line where the waistband of her panties cut across the softness of her belly, where her skin was marked with iridescent waves, smooth beneath his tongue. He hooked his fingers in the elastic waistband and left a sucking kiss low on her stomach. “Say yes, Han,” he rumbled against her.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, guiding his lips lower. “Yes.”

He hooked his hands around her thighs and urged her backwards until the backs of her legs hit the wingback chair in the corner of the room and she fell back onto its cushioned surface with a surprised laugh. Rising up on his knees, he captured her lips again, only stopping long enough to pull her top over her head. He skated his hands over her skin, soaking in the sight of Hannah reclined like a queen on her throne in her lacy bra and panty set.

“Ethan,” she whined, gripping his hair again, guiding his face closer to where she wanted him.

He nipped at the soft inside of her thigh, loving the way she tensed at the sharp sting before relaxing deeper into the chair, her thighs falling open wider.

“Been thinking about this for weeks,” he said, mostly to himself.

“This?”

“You,” he corrected himself. He pulled her panties over her hips, down her legs, tossing them aside and hooking her legs over his shoulders as he settled between her thighs. With one finger, he stroked the length of her slit, a soft, reverent touch that had no place in their arrangement. “Are you as sweet as I remember?”

“Ethan—”

He licked a long, hot stripe up her center, pausing at the top to circle her clit with the tip of his tongue until it stiffened and grew plump against him.

“Better than I remember,” he said before repeating the motion. A slow stroke followed by tight circles.

“Your beard,” she gasped, her heels digging into his back.

Ethan hesitated, glancing up at her. “Say the word and I’ll shave it off right now.”

“Like hell you will.” Her hips lifted towards his mouth. Impatient, needy, and so fucking gorgeous. “Do that again.”

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