Now And Always (Crown Creek)

by Theresa Leigh

  All the breath left my lungs except a tiny little gasped, “Please.”

  “Okay then.” His voice swooped even lower. “After I kissed your hand, I was going to kiss each one of your fingers in turn. Starting with your thumb and working my way over to your pinky. You know I love your pinkies, right?”

  I had no idea, actually. Something warm and liquid pooled in my belly.

  “Yes, I do,” he murmured. “They're just like you. Elegant, gorgeous, but a little bit silly. The way your nails are so tiny.”

  “Are you calling me silly?”

  “Actually, I'm calling you gorgeous. I'm calling you beautiful. I'm calling you the girl I've wanted forever.”

  My chest hitched. “Okay.”

  “Once I got done making sure your pinky nails know exactly how much I adore them, I was going to help you out of your coat, set it down on the easy chair in my living room, and then I was going to kiss you. You seem to like it when I kiss you, right?”

  “Yeah, it's okay, I guess,” I deadpanned.

  “Well, I'll tell you what I like about kissing you. I like how you go weak in the knees, Claire. Because you can't fake the way you sag against me. I know you're very good at pretending, but that's not something I think you can help.”

  I drew in a sharp breath.

  “Oh, that's right. I noticed. Just like I noticed how the skin on your chest just below your neck goes all red when you're trying to hold back. You are so put together. So elegant and contained with everyone else, but I see you, Claire. I see how red you get, and you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I absolutely love it.”

  My breath came faster now.

  “And you know what else I really want to see?” His voice was like warm honey pouring over my skin. I was melting. “I want to see just how far down that pretty little blush goes.”

  I sucked in desperately and couldn't hold it back any longer. I groaned.

  “Goddamn, that’s hot. I wondered if you were noisy.” Ethan’s voice had taken on a raspy aspect I'd never heard before. I shifted in my seat. I should have been getting cold. But instead of freezing, I was burning up.

  I unzipped my parka. “What are you doing?” Ethan asked. “I can see you moving around in there.”

  “Um, I was getting, uh, warm.”

  “I know what you mean. I'm feeling kind of hot, too.” As I watched the window, he pulled the phone away from his ear. And then my jaw dropped when he unbuttoned his shirt, reached back to grab the collar and pulled it over his head.

  Did guys have any idea how sexy it was when they took their shirts off like that? Did Ethan know? Was he doing it on purpose? Did he always take his shirts off like that? Or was this just for me?

  Another frustrated moan escaped my lips, because his shirt was off now, but I couldn't picture how he looked. I'd seen him shirtless at all those summer parties by the creek -- the boys running, whooping, and jumping into the freezing cold water -- but worked so hard not to notice that I'd effectively erased the image from my brain.

  What an idiot I was.

  He had a runner's body, I knew that much. Those long, lean muscles, and not an ounce of extra flesh anywhere. I closed my eyes to hold that picture in my head.

  “Are you touching yourself right now, Claire?”

  I gasped, feeling like he must have spied on me, and I realized that my hand had been creeping closer and closer to the frustrated center of my need.

  “Go ahead. I’m touching myself too.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Was this really happening?

  “Would it help you to know what I sound like, Claire?”

  “Oh, God.”

  “I was thinking about you a lot on the drive over.” His breath came faster. “You know how much I want you, right?”

  “Ethan are you really—?”

  His ragged groan filled my ears. “Yes, I am. I have to. Because I want to do this right, Claire. And wanting you has me too worked up. If we go now, I’m going to explode.”

  “Oh my God.” He was. I could hear it in the catch of his breath. I wished like hell I could see his face right now.

  “Claire. I want to hear you.”

  A pulse deep inside of me started pounding like a drum. I groaned again. “I can’t….”

  His voice cracked. “Please.”

  It was the please that broke me. I cranked my seat back and slid my hand down into my pajama pants. My panties were already soaked. I felt hot and taut and needy. A single touch would send me over the edge.

  “Are you?” he begged.

  “I am.”

  “Shit.” He growled low. “Are you wet?”

  “I am.”

  “Tell me, Claire. Tell me what you're feeling.”

  “Um, I don't know. It's me. And I feel like I'm going to shatter.”

  “Me too. When you touch yourself, you need to imagine those are my fingers. I'm the one touching you, Claire.”

  I groaned. “Yes.”

  “And now I'm kissing you right behind your ear. I can feel you. You're starting to shake.” I was. “And your legs are quivering.” They were. “And now instead of my fingers it's my mouth.” Oh, God. “I’m tasting you, Claire, and you taste so good. You taste like everything I've ever wanted. You taste like heaven. Do you feel it? Tell me you feel it.”

  My breath caught in the back of my throat as I bit back a strangled cry. “No, don't hold back,” he commanded.

  And just like that, right there in his driveway, I lost control. The years of denying myself, denying my feelings, overcame me at once and I came so hard that blackness nipped at the edges of my sight.

  My eyes flew open. Something hard had hit the side of my door. It was Ethan, knocking. Confused, I hit the unlock button, and he yanked the door open. Without a word he swept me up into his arms, crushed his mouth to mine, and carried me inside.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ethan

  I'd never understood how someone could lose control. The phrase “out of my mind” never applied to me. How could a person just stop thinking? “I just lost control,” the killer would say in one of my mother’s thrillers, and I’d shake my head, unable to comprehend such a strange idea.

  Now I understood.

  With Claire in my arms, I was totally out of my mind. My body felt like a dam that had been breached. A rush of things I didn't understand spilled over.

  In the back of my head, a tiny little voice wondered if this was going to ruin what I had with her. But what I had with her wasn't good enough. I'd finally accepted that I'd always wanted more.

  I carried her right into my bedroom, kissing her and covering as much of her exposed skin as I could with whispered promises. I settled her onto my bed and crawled over her, bracketing her head with my elbows, and allowed myself to drink her in. I was half crazed with need for her, but also with the desire to preserve this moment forever. I wanted to freeze it in amber so I could remember its perfection.

  Her little pink tongue flicked out, wetting her lips nervously. “Ethan? Are we about to make a really big mistake?”

  I hesitated. “No. This seems like the best possible idea we could come up with,” I told her, as truthfully as I could. “But there's no going back from this, is there? Everything will change. But Claire, it actually won't. Because this is how I've always felt about you.”

  I felt her tremble underneath me and mentally applied the brakes. I rolled over onto my side and cupped her cheek with my hand, turning her to face me so I could look into her eyes. “I'm still Ethan,” I promised. “But right now I want to be the Ethan who gives you orgasms.”

  She ran her tongue along her bottom lip again, and then her eyes darkened. “What if I want to be the Claire who gives you orgasms?”

  “Oh I'm down with that, don't worry. But I was hoping I could give you one first. Seeing as how you’re a guest in my house and all. It’s only polite.”

  “I’m hardly a guest." She eyed me from under heavy lids.
“But that sounds like the polite thing to do. You’ve always been a polite guy, haven’t you?”

  “I try.”

  “And I want you to know that I'm not faking it for your ego, Mr. Polite Guy.”

  “You'd better not,” I threatened. “Because that would be lying. And we don't lie to each other, Claire.”

  She closed her eyes, and I took the moment and kissed her. Her lips parted easily, readily, almost eagerly. I groaned against her mouth, then moved my lips down. “I want to see you,” I begged her, lifting her shirt. When she hesitated, I nipped at her earlobe, sucking a little on the velvety skin before taking it between my teeth.

  Just like I'd hoped, she shivered and arched. Her arms wrapped around me. I slammed my mouth into hers again, and she kissed me hungrily, her body moving in time with the tangling of our tongues. Sliding my hand under her shirt, I moved my fingers just to the very edge of her soft bra.

  She shivered when my finger brushed across her nipple. “I want to see you,” I repeated. “My shirt's off. Why isn't yours?”

  She dragged her finger down the center of my chest. “Yes. You took your shirt off and distracted me, so I forgot to ask you something.”

  “What did you need to ask me?” Her finger trailed lower, bumping over the lines of my stomach.

  She followed her finger with her eyes before her gaze snapped back up to mine. “When the fuck did all of this muscle stuff happen, Bailey?” she teased. “You've been keeping a secret.”

  “It's always been there,” I told her. Then cocked my head and amended it to, “Okay, it's been there since senior year. You've seen my chest before, Claire.”

  “I never let myself look,” she whispered. “Everything is different now.”

  Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she pushed herself up onto her elbows. Then all the way up to a seated position. As I held her gaze, she unbuttoned her top.

  Then I almost passed out.

  Claire was exquisite. She was better than I'd imagined, and I'd imagined a whole lot. But even my fevered brain couldn't have conjured breasts as perfect as hers. Small but full, each one a gorgeous handful topped with rosy pink nipples that stood erect. They pointed upward like a challenge, daring me to play with them, to tease and nip and suck and kiss. I palmed her left breast before brushing my thumb over that tantalizing nipple. Her eyes fluttered closed and then open again. “Goddamn,” I groaned. “You've been keeping secrets too.”

  “They're small,” she said worriedly.

  I shook my head and bent to her. “They're perfect.” I kissed her as sweetly as I could, trying to tell her that she was in charge here, that I would go exactly as far as she wanted but no further. “Would you please lie back?” I whispered in her ear. “I want to do something.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I gave her a look. “I believe we already went over this on the phone.”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  My fingers went to her waistband. “Do you want me to tell you again? Just so we're clear?”

  Her eyes were half-lidded. Sleepy, perfect little slits. "No," she breathed. "I'm good." She lifted her hips. I slowly peeled down her pants.

  And then there was nothing between us but a tiny slip of white cotton.

  She was already wet, her desire making the fabric go translucent. I pressed a kiss to her silken thigh. And then another one right over the top of that damp, needy fabric.

  Her hips twitched, allowing me to catch hold of her panties and peel them down. I flung them away and nudged her thighs wider, urging her to open up to me. To give me everything I'd waited so long to possess.

  I’d been dreaming about her taste for years. But this wasn't a dream. Claire was really in my bed, with her arms flung out and her fingers gripping my sheets. As I swirled my tongue over tight little nub, she dug her heels into my mattress like she was trying to climb an unseen mountain. I wrapped my arms around her thighs and buried my face in her, giving myself over to everything I'd imagined.

  And once again, I was out of my mind. I wasn't Ethan anymore. I was a greedy, devouring animal, and my prey was Claire's pleasure. I chased it down, timing my licks to the beat of my heart and the arch of her hips and the gasping, desperate breaths she took as she climbed closer. Her muscles trembled under me, and I chased that too, making her quiver and pant. I didn't hold back. I barely recognized myself. It felt like someone else was doing this, making her make those noises.

  But it was me. My hand that cupped her ass, tilting her hips to devour her more easily. My fingers that slipped inside her, making her muscles clench and tighten as I moved them in and out, in and out. My tongue swirling, seeking, claiming…

  Claire broke open. She was a screamer, just like I'd hoped. But it wasn't some wordless shriek that came to her lips.

  It was my name.

  I was the one making her feel this. And I was the one who'd loved her all my life.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Ethan

  Once she came down, she wouldn't look at me. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

  Worried, I crawled up to her and cradled her face. “Claire?” I said, kissing one closed eye. “Claire, look at me.” I kissed the other one. “Claire?” I pressed my lips to hers. A tentative, gentle kiss, wholly unlike the devouring ones I'd pressed between her legs. “Remember, this doesn't change how I feel about you. Okay? This is how I've always felt about you.”

  Her eyes flew open and her hips brushed against the aching bulge in my pants. “Holy—” she breathed. Then, holding my gaze, she sent a questing hand down the center of my chest. When her fingers closed around me, I couldn't hold back my groan. “You feel like this for me?” she purred, gripping me tighter.

  She started moving her hand faster. Shock waves of pleasure coursed through my veins. My muscles tightened, and it was all I could do to keep from thrusting against her. “This is how I feel,” I promised. "I've always felt."

  “Oh, God, Ethan.” It came out like a broken sob, but her lips were curved in a smile. When she kissed me again, I rolled over on top of her, desperate to feel her body against mine.

  She tugged at my waistband, freeing my cock and bringing me right to the edge. When my tip brushed against her slick, sensitive skin, we both gasped. “Just do it,” she urged in a whimper. “Go in, I'm clean. I trust you're not going to get me sick, right? And besides, it's not like I can get any more pregnant.”

  The idea was so appealing, I nearly passed out. But I shook my head. “If I go in bare, I'm not going to last as long as I want.” I pushed myself off the edge of the bed and opened my dresser drawer to retrieve the half box of condoms that I'd shoved in the back. As I unrolled one down my length, I took a moment to appreciate how beautiful she looked there in my bed with her cheeks flushed and her muscles both languid and taut at the same time. There was a softness about her that I had never seen before. Everything about her felt more generous, almost ripe. And even though I knew why, I liked to think that it was all for me. “I’ve learned a thing or two since we fooled around last,” I told her with a grin.

  “We never did this.” Her eyes were fixed on my cock.

  “No, but you'd better believe I went and took care of business a few seconds after we were done.”

  She grinned. “Oh my God, I remember you running right to the bathroom. I thought you were washing your hands.”

  “Hell, no. You had me so worked up. Two pumps and I was done.” I knelt up on the bed and crawled over her, kissing her before promising, “That's not going to happen again. I'm going to make this last all night.”

  “I don't know whether to be impressed or a little frightened,”

  But the corner of her mouth kicked up, and suddenly we were both smiling. Then laughing. Laughing even as I slipped inside her, both of us ecstatic because we were finally, finally telling the truth. I kissed her between giggles and moans, utterly amazed because this was exactly what I'd pictured loving Claire would be. The sweetness. The silli
ness. We were still us, but now we were something more. She was the same girl I'd always known, but so much more than I'd ever dared to think I deserved.

  I slowed down, thrusting deep inside her and holding her hazel eyes with mine. The words I’d always wanted to say to her leaped to the tip of my tongue. The need to say them was so overwhelming, I couldn’t do anything except kiss her as hard as I could.

  Chapter Thirty

  Claire

  This is Ethan, my brain screamed. Ethan Bailey. Your friend, since forever.

  But no matter how many times I tried to make sense of this, my brain still refused to reconcile the man who was currently rocking my world with the guy I’d known since middle school. How was the man who was currently fucking me with slow, steady strokes -- each one punctuated with a precise roll of the hips that made my toes curl and my vision go fuzzy -- the same shy, quiet boy from Mrs. Parker's seventh grade English class? How was the chiseled Adonis who looked at me like I was something precious and rare… Ethan?

  He’d told me. He’d actually, finally, told me how he felt. This was too good. This was too amazing.

  “I can’t,” I started to say, but then trailed off, because there were no words for what I was trying to say to him. I couldn’t explain how helpless I felt in the face of my powerful new feelings. Helpless but also cherished. Vulnerable, but perfectly safe.

  “What do you need?” I felt his voice everywhere in my body. The steadiness, the care that was Ethan was still there, but the hunger in it made me gasp all over again. Every moment now felt like a revelation. “Tell me, Claire. Tell me what you need. I want to be what you need.”

  “I need….” It was too much. He was too much. I was going to shatter into a thousand pieces if he kept looking at me like that. Desperate to claw back some control, I put my hand on his chest. “Let me?”