Page 41 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

I should have pulled away.Should have told him this was a mistake.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I tilted my head ever so slightly, my lips brushing against his in a whisper of a kiss so soft, so tentative, it barely felt real.

Ethan groaned, low and deep in his chest, his fingers tightening around mine. Then his other hand was at my jaw, tilting my face up, and before I could think, before I could second-guess, he kissed me again.

It wasn’t slow this time. It wasn’t careful.

It was need and heat and restraint unraveling all at once.

His lips were firm, demanding, parting mine with a hunger that sent a slow, aching pulse through me. His hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my hair, tugging just enough to send a shudder racing down my spine.

I gasped, and he took the sound into his mouth, deepening the kiss, his tongue stroking against mine with a possessiveness that made my knees weak.

God, I should stop this.

But when Ethan shifted closer, his body pressing against mine, all rational thought disappeared.

I pressed my hands against his chest, feeling the solidness of him beneath his shirt. His heart pounded hard, matching the frantic rhythm of my own, and when my fingers curled into the fabric, he made a rough sound and pulled me into his lap.

A soft moan escaped me as my thighs settled on either side of him, my body fitting against his like I belonged there.

Ethan’s hands skimmed down my back, over my hips, gripping me tight as he dragged me closer until there was nothing between us but the heavy thrum of anticipation.

His mouth left mine, trailing a slow, burning path along my jaw and down my neck. The scrape of his stubble created delicious friction against my skin, and when he reached the sensitive spot just below my ear, he sucked lightly, his teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp.

“Ethan,” I breathed, my fingers sinking into his hair.

He groaned against my skin, his hands sliding under my sweater, fingertips teasing the bare skin at my waist. His touch was electric, scorching a path up my ribs, over the curve of my back.

I arched into him, desperate for more, for anything, for everything.

Because this wasn’t careful. This wasn’t planned.

This was fire.

And I was already burning.

Ethan’s hands were firm as they explored, like he was mapping every inch of me. His fingers splayed over my back, his palms warm against my bare skin.

I gasped when he tugged my sweater up, just enough to expose my stomach to the cool air. His mouth followed, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the column of my throat.

I shivered, and his grip tightened.

“Cold, sweetheart?” His voice was low, rough with restraint.

“No,” I whispered, breathless. “Not even a little.”

Because heat was coiling low in my stomach, spreading like wildfire, and the only thing I felt washim.

Ethan pulled back just enough to meet my gaze. His blue eyes burned with something dangerous, something raw, and it sent a shudder through me. He looked at me like I was something to be savored.

Something to be worshipped.

His fingers brushed against my ribs, teasing the edge of my bra. When I didn’t stop him, he pushed my sweater higher, and his breath hitched.

“Aurora.” My name was a plea, a curse, a prayer all in one.

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