Page 60 of A Cornish Love Story
‘Never better.’ I chased his mouth so I could kiss him again, needing him to keep doing it, to keep building the pressure inside me.
‘It doesn’t hurt—’
‘Not right now. Come here.’ I slid my hand up the back of his neck, my fingers burrowing into the hair at his nape. With each kiss I fell deeper, felt hotter and softer, drugged by how good it was having Ethan this close again. His lips left mine and I made a noise of protest, but then he was trailing them down my neck, along my collarbone, light and maddeningly teasing. I tugged his hair and he groaned and bent lower, mapping a path down my body, over my dress, with his open mouth.
I closed my eyes, my head tipped back against the wall, and it took me a moment to realize he was kneeling in front of me. I opened my eyes and he looked up at me, poised, asking a silent question. I swallowed, heat slicing right to the centre of me even before he’d touched me. I nodded, and he slid the skirt of my dress up, the whisper of the fabric against my thighs adding to the sensations that, I decided, were going to drive me mad.
Ethan bent, his head and shoulders disappearing under my dress, his hands sliding up the backs of my legs, then tugging down my underwear. He placed feather-light kisses up the insides of my thighs, and I widened them, giving him better access. Then I felt his warm breath against me, and he placed a gentle kiss there.
‘This OK, Georgie?’
‘Yes. Please.’ I squeezed my eyes closed, focusing all my attention on where he was touching me, so gently,reverently, that I had to press my palms flat into the wall behind me. He lifted my leg over his shoulder, changing the angle, and I sucked in a breath, wondering if it was the physical sensation or the emotion that was making me dizzy.
‘Ethan.’ I couldn’t bear not seeing him, so I yanked my dress up, pushing away from the wall for a moment so I could tug it over my head, throwing it towards the polished desk that I’d dreamed about, written about in a letter I never thought anyone would read.
He paused, looking up at me. ‘Hey.’ His voice was rough, his eyes glazed, then he turned his attention back to me, and I watched, everything pulling tighter as I tugged at his thick hair, delirious and drunk on the feel of him. It wasn’t long before I felt the growing tingles, all sensation rushing to where he was touching me.
‘I’m … I’m—’ I didn’t get anything else out, but I heard him hum in approval, and he picked up his pace. ‘Oh, God!’ I pulled at his hair, yanked it too hard, but I wasn’t in control any more. Ethan was, and he was sending me higher with every touch. He looked up, his eyes catching hold of mine, warm and brown and alive, and that sent me spiralling, gasping, pleasure igniting inside me with an intensity that felt wholly new.
Ethan held on tightly, keeping me pressed against the wall, and then, when the high slipped away, replaced by blissful contentment, he stood up, gripping my waist, and looked down at me.
‘OK?’ His gaze swept over my body.
‘Yeah, it was OK.’ I gave him a lazy smile, and his eyes danced with amusement, because he could tell from my jelly-limbs exactly howOKit had been.
‘Right then.’ He lifted me up, and I shrieked and wrapped my legs around him. The fabric of his trousers was rough against my skin, and I could feel the effect the last few minutes had had on him. He carried me into the master bedroom and lowered me gently onto the luxurious, star-silver cover.
I glanced towards the head of the bed. ‘Will the nightlights get activated in Panic Room Mode, or does the house think we’ll be too stressed to sleep? Will she suddenly start playing a lullaby, when we’re right in the middle of—’
‘Georgie.’ Ethan walked on his hands and knees towards me, and I sat up to help him undo his shirt buttons.
‘What about sex mode?’ I whispered. ‘Where will the rose petals come from?’
‘Are you intent on making a joke out of this?’ His pupils were ink, blown out across his irises, the only sign that he wasn’t as calm as he was pretending to be. I worked on his shirt and he discarded my bra, then stopped, motionless, to look at me.
I pushed his shirt off his shoulders, saw the smattering of freckles across his collarbone, and was hit with a flash of nostalgia, of desire and tenderness so strong that the instinct to tease was gone. I traced the patterns on his skin. ‘No, I—’
‘We don’t have to do anything.’ His thumb moved my hair off my forehead. ‘I just – can I hold you?’
‘You can do more than that. You already have, and I … it’s just the two of us. Right now. I want you, Ethan.’
His smile was soft, but there was heat in his gaze. I lay back on the bed and he followed me down, kissing me again, his lips sliding down my collarbone and then lower, every touch breaking through my contentment, relighting the sparks. But I’d had enough attention, so I pushed him onto his back and knelt over him. His head hit the pillow and I froze, glancing at the ceiling.
‘George.’ Ethan’s laugh was warm and liquid.
‘I just … don’t you feel like the house iswatchingus?’ I bent and kissed his throat, delighted when he groaned and squeezed my waist.
‘It’s not watching us,’ he said. ‘But if you’re uncomfortable, then—’
I nipped at his earlobe as I worked on his belt. ‘I’m not uncomfortable. And anyway, let it watch. It was here at the start of us, so it may as well be here—’ My gaze collided with his, and for a second I saw my panic reflected in his eyes, then he pushed up on his elbows, kissing me feverishly, helping me drag his trousers and boxers off.
‘George.’ He kissed his way across my cheeks and nose, brushed his fingers up and down my back, and I was a confused puddle of turned on and comforted. I ran my hands up his chest, and felt his muscles tighten. He kissed my jaw as he leaned over the sideof the bed, retrieving his wallet from his trouser pocket, taking out a condom.
‘Let me.’ I took it from him.
‘Are you sure about this?’ He was breathing hard, and I recognized the look in his eyes, lust and determination and restraint colliding.
‘I am. Are you?’
