Page 28 of A Certain Step (Midnights at Pemberley #1)

WILLA

W illa’s heart raced. Ethan cupped her face, his eyes illuminating with a gleam she hadn’t seen before.

The heavy tethers holding her together snapped one by one—restraint, hesitation, doubt, and uncertainty.

For a moment, nothing mattered the way Ethan did.

Or, rather, that was always the case, and she was brave enough to admit to it now.

There was plenty of time to play back the poetic promises he made—to perhaps question and sit with the dread of how it could all fall to pieces.

That was the kind of self-deprecation her brain held a master’s degree in.

But right now, inches apart, all she wanted to do was press her lips to his.

To kiss him, not as Elizabeth, but as Willa.

His touch against her cheek burned through her.

She blinked, once, twice, drew forward, and rested her forehead against his.

“We’re really doing this?” she asked.

The brilliance in his smile could ignite the entirety of New York City.

“Yeah, beautiful, we are,” he confirmed, his voice unbearably tender and affirmative .

And then his lips were on hers, languid and gentle, parting and pulling with a softness she could blanket herself in.

His kisses were tormentingly dazzling in the frenzied fury of their earlier performance, delicious even, now that she was being truthful with herself. But this—this dance was theirs and theirs alone. He was utterly in tune with her body, so methodic in his attention that it enraptured her.

Keeping her body upright would’ve required enormous effort if they hadn’t been sitting. She would’ve melted. She was already halfway there, stunned by the fact that kissing someone could feel like this.

He wordlessly asked for permission, undoubtedly wanting more but leaving the decision in her hands.

Willa boldly darted her tongue in response, swapping tender tugs for more hunger and heat.

A low groan reverberated from somewhere deep inside his throat, pleasing her to no end with the knowledge that she had been the one to elicit it.

She bit his lower lip, pulling another satisfied sound out from him. Willa draped her legs over his, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, squeezing her closer to him. She could feel what she was doing to him, the substantial proof of his desires, dizzying and gloriously intoxicating.

Ethan’s mouth moved against her with more fire, and he quickened his pace while still maintaining respectable boundaries—too many if he asked her.

She didn’t need him sticking to just her lips.

She wanted, needed him elsewhere. Her own feverish longings were now addicting.

His fingers trailed to her hair, down to her shoulder, back up toward her neck and jaw.

She’d never had a first kiss like this before. Scratch that, she’d never had any kiss like this before.

She’d never felt this safe and revered in every way.

They parted for a beat, breathless and flushed, foreheads pressed against one another. He stole another quick kiss, prompting Willa to giggl e. His eyes held her, impossibly overwhelming and gorgeously warm.

“You’re… you’re something else, Willa. You’re everything,” he rasped.

The hunger in his eyes burned a hole through her chest. “Is that so?”

He tipped her chin and kissed her again, once, twice. Slow and sweet. He didn’t need words to answer. His lips were meticulously drafting an entire novel. “Was all of this okay?” he questioned.

She couldn’t help but smile at that—the amenity in his genuine and selfless care.

“It was more than okay. I don’t want you to tiptoe around me, Ethan.

I might not be ready for certain things right now, but you don’t have to be such a gentleman.

I feel safer with you than I have with anyone else, plus I’ve been wanting to kiss you for quite some time now. You don’t have to ask.”

His eyes crinkled at the edges, and one of her favorite smiles made its way onto his face. “So, if I want to pull you inside my dressing room after a show and make out with you until your lips are swollen, I don’t have to ask?”

She shook her head with a laugh. No, he definitely didn’t have to ask. And God, now she wanted that—badly. “You don’t have to ask. You don’t have to stick solely to my lips either,” she added.

He swallowed abruptly, his eyes blown wide. “Are you telling me the three little moles against your collarbone aren’t off-limits?”

Her lips parted. “Oh, we’re that observant,” she noted.

“Willa, I wouldn’t even know where to begin with what I’ve observed.”

Her breath hitched. She wouldn’t know where to begin either. His neck, his hundred-watt smile , those damn biceps and forearms. “No, the y aren’t off-limits. Not to you,” she assured.

She was selfish with her declaration, too. She’d happily give Ethan what she wanted to take, the places she wanted to plant her lips—to lick and bite and kiss without restraint.

He lowered his head suddenly, carefully moved her shirt aside, and planted his lips against the moles on her collarbone.

Lingering there, he kissed her softly, then skated his lips toward her throat.

A low whimper threatened to emanate out of her, but she repressed it.

His fingers moved to her jaw. His mouth was all over, avidly taking from wherever she’d permit.

He met her lips again, dazed and warm. They stayed like that for a few moments again, kissing like their lives depended on it.

He nipped at her bottom lip. “Stay, please. I’ll take the couch,” he asked breathlessly.

“I want to, but I need to shower before I can sleep.”

He peppered kisses along her face as he spoke. “You know I have a shower, right? And, also, an extra, unused loofah. You can have it.”

“You have an extra loofah because?” she questioned, planting a kiss against his nose.

“I buy things in twos, just in case I need a new one.”

She laughed, moving away for a second to look him in the eyes. “We live in one of the biggest cities in the world. Are you scared Target is going to run out of loofahs?” she mocked sweetly. Frankly, it was adorable, but she loved riling him up.

“No, it was all a part of my devious plan to get you to stay here.”

“That’s less concerning than you’re secretly worried there will be shortages of basic human necessities.”

“Is that a yes, then?”

She smiled. “I’m going to have to borrow your largest T-shirt. None of the fitted stuff that puts your biceps on blast. ”

He hummed, moving his hands up and down her arms. “What does that mean?” he teased.

“You know damn well what it means.”

He smirked, smoldering almost. “I didn’t think you’d be checking me out, but I’m happy to hear those bench presses aren’t for nothing.”

She kicked her legs off him and stood up, holding her hand out to him.

“Only your arms,” she lied. If she could wink, she would have. “Now get me that shirt.”

Ethan laced their fingers together and led her to his bedroom.

“Also, you’re not sleeping on the sofa. We can both fit on your giant bed.”

“You sure? I honestly don’t mind. I’d prefer you were comfortable.”

“I’ll be more comfortable knowing I’m not stealing your bed. I am, however, slightly concerned about your other girl,” she pointed to Tulip, sprawled along the middle, sound asleep without a care in the world.

He shrugged off her concern, released her hand, and headed toward his wardrobe. “Tulip loves you. You’re fine.”

“Yes, but she’s never had to share you with me. Am I going to wake up with claw marks on my face?”

He chuckled, pulling out an oversized grey T-shirt and handing it to her with a kiss on her forehead. “You’re not going to wake up with claw marks on your face.”

Willa ambled back to his living room for her tote bag, then reached for a pair of new knickers, thanking her past self for always being prepared with show essentials. She should start carrying pajamas, too.

He came out of his bathroom, offered her the new loofah, and opened a cabinet ins ide the wall to hand her a clean, beige towel.

“I also have brand new toothbrushes,” he mentioned.

“I have my toothbrush,” she replied.

He tipped her chin up, gazing into her eyes with fond excitement. “I want you to have one here.”

A laugh escaped her. “One day, and we’re already talking toothbrushes.”

“I’m telling you. It’s all part of my master plan,” he said, inching forward for another kiss.

“Sea salt and cedar is an impressive choice for body wash. It’s fainter than your spicy leather cologne,” she asserted, stepping back into his room with nothing but his T-shirt.

Ethan was sitting on the bench at the foot of his bed, looking down at his phone. He set it aside and extended his arms out for her. She stepped in between his legs and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“My spicy leather cologne?” he repeated.

The words sounded so silly coming from his lips, his voice a little gruff, slightly tired.

“I don’t know how else to describe it. Your cologne—the one you usually wear. It smells like leather and a spice of some sort. Therefore, spicy leather.”

His hands tracked along her arms. “And are we a fan of said spicy leather?”

She bobbed her head up and down. “Big fan—the body wash, too.”

He pulled her tightly against him and held her. “It smells even better on you.”

“Does it now? ”

He looked up at her, eyes wide and sparkling. “Yeah, a close second to the floral notes in your perfume.”

“Jasmine, rose, and gillyflower, according to the bottle’s description,” she specified.

“What on earth is a gillyflower?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m not even sure why I have the specific ingredients memorized.”

“It’s doing its job. I’m surprised it’s not lilac-scented.”

She tilted her head, wordlessly asking him for clarification.

“It’s your favorite flower, isn’t it?” he questioned.

Had she told him that? When would that have come up in any of their conversations? It was, yes, courtesy of her mum’s obsession since she was little—both the color and the scent, really.