and she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that whoever had hit her had done it with a single purpose in mind. Her death.
CHAPTER 32
ETHAN lay back on the couch and rubbed his fingers up and down in a soothing pattern on Rachels’ arm. She was huddled close to him, her body warm and sweet against his.
Both of them had their shoes kicked off, and she had her legs entwined with his and her feet tucked between his. They were wrapped up like mating love bugs, and it was hard for him to remember a time when he’d been more content.
“I could stay like this forever,” she murmured.
Had he been so transparent? He was thinking the exact same thing. It did odd things to him that she seemed as content as he did.
He continued stroking her arm, simply enjoying the sensation of touching her. She snuggled a little deeper into his embrace, and he smiled as her hair fell over his lips and nose.
“Feeling better now?” he asked.
“Still a little jittery, but yes, much better now that I’m here with you.”
A surge of pleasure shot through his chest. He didn’t tell her, but his insides were pretty much toast. He was amazed he could even lie here so calmly and hold her when he was still screaming what the fuck in his head.
Never did he want to relive the terrible moment of Sean calling him to say Rachel was in danger of going over the bridge. Never. And to know that only Sean’s quick actions of jerking her out of the truck saved her still had the power to drive him to his knees.
She shifted and elevated herself so that she could look down at him. Her hair had grown some in the last weeks, and thanks to a trip to the stylist with his mom, the ends had been trimmed and layers had been added.
Her small hands spread out over his chest and she smoothed them upward to his shoulders.
“Ethan?”
He looked at her, knowing that in this moment she could ask him for damn near anything and he’d tell her yes.
“Would you mind too terribly if I made love to you?”
He swallowed and swallowed again. Here was this beautiful woman, a woman he loved more than anything. The woman he’d married and lost. Now she was here, like a dream, asking him so sweetly if she could make love to him.
Dear God, yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
“I’d love nothing more,” he managed to croak out. It sounded better than oh hell yeah, even if that was what his cock was screaming.
She smiled, and her eyes turned sultry. The fear and anxiety was replaced by a warm, earthy glow that sent shivers down his spine.
He used to love it when she took the initiative in bed, but that had stopped when he’d started pushing her away. It didn’t take too many times of getting shot down before she stopped making the effort.
His body reacted, leaping to life at the promise of seduction in her gaze. He let his hands linger on her arms as she shifted more so she could straddle him on the couch.
Some of the wounded bruising so prevalent in her eyes had been replaced by an almost playful light. He could drown in that look.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered.
“Oh God, baby. I want you to touch me too.”
“Will you undress for me?”
There was a shyness now to her gaze, and she dropped it slightly, refusing to meet his eyes. He picked up her hands and brought then to his mouth. He kissed each finger and then carefully shifted from underneath her.
He rolled, putting his feet down to get up from the couch. Then he turned back to her and reached for the fly of his jeans. There was a spark of curiosity in her eyes, coupled with desire.
He was so aroused by her open perusal that he had a hard time prying the jeans down over his erection. When it sprang free, he sighed an audible sound of relief.
Her eyes widened in appreciation, and he hardened further, until his cock stretched painfully upward toward his navel. Forgoing the idea of being playful and teasing, he ripped his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Then he stood before her nude, wanting her so damn much it was all he could do not to toss her down on the couch and ride her long and hard.