Page 54 of Tides of Change
Ethan smirked. He set down his pumpkin spice latte, toed off his shoes, and shrugged out of his jacket. He took a moment to glance at the coat rack, where my uniform jacket hung neatly beside Noah’s small hoodie. The juxtaposition was enough to make anyone smile—or at least that’s what I told myself when I noticed the corners of his mouth twitch.
“Make yourself comfortable,” I invited, as I led the way into the living room and sank into the cushions of the couch.
He sat beside me, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his shoulder. “You were saying something earlier about the plot,” Ethan started. “Before the jogger…” He trailed off, his voice faltering.
I didn’t let him finish.
“Ethan,” I said quietly, and waited until he turned his head to meet my gaze. “I don’t want to talk about that right now. As much as I admire your talent, I’m not interested in dissecting your book.”
His brow furrowed, and he shifted toward me, coffee cup lowering just enough for me to catch the way his lips parted, maybe to ask a question, maybe to protest.
I didn’t give him the chance. I plucked the cup out of his hand and placed it beside mine on the coffee table.
“What I need,” I said, steady but softer, “is to know you’re safe.” My chest tightened, the vulnerability sneaking into my tone despite my best efforts. “And…I need your kiss. Right now, that’s what I need most.” I needed the reassurance, the comfort of his body. The incident with the runner had shaken me more than I cared to let on.
The air between us stilled, thick with unspoken tension and something else—something electric. Ethan’s lips curved into the smallest smile, his coffee forgotten as he leaned just a fraction closer.
The air between us crackled with something undeniably charged. Ethan’s smile flickered, and his lips parted as though he had something to say, but I didn’t want words. I wanted him. Needed him.
Before he could utter a sound, I closed the gap between us, and my hand cupped the side of his jaw. His breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered shut just as my lips crashed into his.
The kiss wasn’t tentative. It was everything I’d been holding back. Desperation. Desire. The need to reassure myself—and him—that he was safe. His lips were soft but responsive and yielded to the pressure of mine, just as hungry, just as determined.
Ethan’s hand came up to clutch the front of my sweatshirt. He pulled me closer and anchored me like he was afraid I’d disappear.
I shifted, and my free hand slid to his waist. My fingers gripped the fabric of his sweater to bring us closer. I deepened the kiss and felt his sigh against my lips, warm and fulfilling.
When we finally broke apart, it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was because breathing had become nonnegotiable. Our foreheads rested together, and my thumb brushed absently over the trim beard along his jawline as I tried to steady my pulse.
“I needed that,” I murmured, low and rough, my lips still close enough to graze his as I spoke. “But I need…” My cock thickened, demanding the comfort of physical intimacy.
“What do you need?” he whispered. “I’ll give it to you.”
“I need to touch you.” I ran my hand down his neck to his broad shoulder. “All over. Skin to skin.” I needed to ground myself in him and reassure myself of his safety, though I wouldn’t admit to that aloud.
He seemed to understand my unspoken words. He whipped his sweater over his head, followed by his T-shirt, and revealed a defined chest lightly dusted with auburn hair.
I’d seen plenty of bare chests before—in locker rooms, at the beach—but none had affected me like this. My body reacted as if struck by lightning, and I couldn’t shuck my sweatshirt fast enough.
Ethan chuckled at my eagerness. We unbuckled, unzipped, and tossed our jeans and socks aside in a flurry of movement until we were naked, thigh to thigh—his light, fine hair against my dark, coarser hair. My heart thundered in my chest at the simple touch, yet we were only getting started.
“Trust me?” he asked, his voice husky. “I think you’ll enjoy what I have in mind.”
My dick hardened even further at just the words. At the simple promise of pleasure. “Of course. Anything you want to do.”
He twisted, swung a leg over my thighs, and straddled my lap. Our cocks and balls aligned, and the feel of his warm length against mine sizzled. A shiver shot through me.
He leaned forward and kissed me, long and deep, ratcheting up my anticipation. When he finally broke away, I was panting and ready to beg for release.
He didn’t make me wait. He took both of our erections in hand, swiped our pre-cum for lubrication, and pumped, twisted, and paid extra attention to the heads. The pressure of my orgasm built, and I couldn’t help thrusting into his hand. Crying his name, I came in long spurts. With a grunt, he followed soon after.
I collapsed into the sofa cushions, completely spent. “That was…that was definitely reassurance that you’re alive.”
He chuckled. “Thought that would do the trick.” He carefully climbed off my lap. “Wait here.” He sauntered out of the room with a light step and returned a short time later with a warm, wet washcloth.
I took it from him, cleaned my stomach, and tossed the cloth onto the floor. I’d throw it into the laundry later. At the moment, Ethan needed a kiss. I stood, took him into my arms, and crashed my mouth to his. Naked body to naked body. Stubble to beard. Hairy chest to hairy chest. The foreign sensations were arousing and comforting at the same time.
He shivered, and goosebumps rose on his arms, the flush of the heat we’d created cooling. The house was chilly—I hadn’t thought to fire up the heat while I cleaned.
