Page 45 of When We Ignite
I laughed softly. “I do it because I need you to be clear with me. I don’t do it to torture you.”
He nodded, his hand moving tentatively to the hem of my shirt, tugging lightly. “I don’t want you to kiss me, but I want you to put your arms around me.”
I nodded, the simplicity of his request disarming me. “Okay.”
Stepping closer, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him firmly against my chest. He clung to my shirt, and I rubbed his back soothingly.
“Like that?”
He nodded, his face burying itself against my chest. His smaller frame molded perfectly against mine, as if he belonged there. Arms looped around my waist, shy at first, but as he gained momentum, his grip turned more secure.
“So, how is it supposed to work?” he asked after a long moment, his voice muffled but steady.
I hesitated, stroking his hair. “Ethan…what are you doing?”
“Trying to get used to you.”
A smile tugged at my lips as I leaned down, brushing my cheek against his hair.
“I like you, Ash. I just don’t know what to do with that.”
“I like you too,” I whispered. His grip on me tightened. “So why don’t you let me take the lead?”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
“How about just trying?”
He exhaled deeply. “How?”
“You’ve already set the limit.” My fingers threaded gently through his hair. “You asked me not to kiss you, and I won’t. Just let me touch you, darling. Nothing below the belt. Relax into it. If I cross a line, just say the word, and I’ll stop.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it,” I echoed.
Ethan stilled, his breathing soft and shallow against me. I stayed perfectly still, waiting for his response, unwilling to push him further than he was ready to go.
He sighed, his arms slipping from around my waist to rest lightly on my hips. “Okay,” he said softly, the word carrying all the weight of his hesitation and trust.
I closed my eyes and smiled. That was it. The thrill of that single word sent an electric charge through me. Moving slowly, I let my gaze drift around the room. The space wasn’t ideal—too open, too exposed for us to relax properly—but asking him to come upstairs was out of the question.
My eyes landed on the dining table—tall enough, sturdy enough. Perfect.
“Come here.”
Ethan hesitated, his eyes flicking to mine.
I reached for his wrist, my fingers brushing the cool metal of the bracelet as I guided him forward. His steps were tentative, every movement laced with caution.
I held him at his waist, pressing him back gently against the edge of the table. He tilted his head up, his wide, curious eyes meeting mine. The uncertainty in them didn’t deter me—it only made me more careful.
His lips parted as though he were about to speak, but I pressed my thumb over them, shaking my head. “This is part of it. You just have to trust me.”
Ethan’s chest rose and fell with a deep, measured breath. His gaze lingered on mine for a long moment before he gave the smallest nod of consent.
Gripping him at the waist, I lifted him onto the table. His eyes widened, startled but silent. I could see the flicker of uncertainty there, and I moved carefully, keeping my touch steady, light.
My hands dropped to his lap, and, predictably, he flinched at the contact. I let my palms glide up his legs, the pressure enough for him to feel my touch but not my strength. They lingered at his waist, fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt before sliding to his back. The hem of his shirt rose slightly, and my pinky grazed the warmth of his skin. I paused, searching his eyes again. He swallowed hard, then gave me the smallest of nods.
