Page 12 of Ethan (Pecan Pines #7)

Dean

The night air hit me like a shot of adrenaline. It was cool, crisp, and threaded with the lingering warmth of the bar behind us. I couldn’t stop grinning.

Ethan had actually invited me back to his place.

Ethan. Back to his place.

The words looped in my head like a broken record, disbelief trailing in their wake. I tried to play it cool as we walked toward his car, but inside I was buzzing.

My wolf paced excitedly under my skin, ears perked, restless with possibility.

“Did you mean it?” I asked, risking a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “About me coming over?”

Ethan gave me a side glance, his mouth quirking in that way that made it very hard to think straight. “I don’t usually say things I don’t mean.”

My heart did something stupid and enthusiastic in my chest. I rubbed at the back of my neck, swallowing the grin that threatened to spill over.

“Right. I just… I wasn’t sure I heard you right. Thought maybe I was imagining things,” I said.

“You weren’t.” He unlocked the car with a beep. “Get in before you ruin it.”

I barked a laugh and slid into the passenger seat, fingers already tingling with anticipation. I didn’t know what else the night would bring.

Maybe just some coffee, maybe a little more, but I didn’t care. It was Ethan. And he’d chosen me.

Ethan got in beside me, keys poised in the ignition, when both our phones started going off at the same time. The twin shrills pierced the silence, and my stomach sank.

Ethan cursed under his breath and fished his phone from his pocket. I did the same, glancing at the caller ID.

Griffin. Dang it.

I picked up. “Yeah?”

“Dean, emergency,” Griffin said without preamble, his voice tight. “It’s Connor. He slipped out of the pack house while everyone was at dinner. We think he ran into the woods. He hasn’t come back.”

Connor was Micah’s age, I recalled. The buzz that had been lifting me all night vanished in a second. “How long’s he been gone?” I asked.

“Too long. Enforcers are already out, but if you’re close by, we could use more eyes,” Griffin said.

“I’m on it,” I said quickly, already unclipping my seatbelt.

Ethan was still on his call, brow drawn tight. I caught enough to hear Cooper’s voice on the other end.

“Yeah,” Ethan said, sighing. “I’m on my way now. Keep him stable until I get there.”

He hung up and met my eyes.

“You too?” I asked.

He nodded. “A kid fell down an embankment trying to chase fireflies, apparently. Got found by a hiker who flagged Cooper down. He’s bringing her into the clinic.”

I exhaled a curse. “That kid’s gonna give someone a heart attack.”

Ethan was already starting the car. “You going to the woods?”

“Yeah. I’ll check around the north trail, see if the kid dropped anything. Maybe there’s a scent,” I said.

Ethan hesitated, then looked at me, frustration softening into something else. “Rain check?”

My mouth twisted into a grimace that felt more disappointment than irritation. “Yeah. Of course. Pack first.”

“Always,” he said, then glanced away like he didn’t want to admit he was just as disappointed.

There wasn’t time for anything else. No kiss, no lingering look, no teasing nudge of flirtation. Just duty. Ethan drove back to the pack compound.

Once we arrived, I got out of the car and gave him a parting wave. “Be careful.”

“You too,” Ethan said.

The woods weren’t kind this late at night. The temperature had dropped, and the moonlight only filtered in through broken slats of trees, casting uneven shadows across the undergrowth.

I shifted to my wolf to cover ground faster, nose low, ears high.

Connor’s scent was faint. Too faint for my liking, but it was there. I tracked it past the edge of the trail, further down toward the stream that cut behind the southern edge of the territory.

I moved fast, slipping past brush and fallen logs, my paws kicking up dirt and leaves. I didn’t care about the brambles snagging my fur or the chill cutting through the damp air.

All I could think about was the look on Ethan’s face when he answered that call. He’d been professional, focused, but with that sliver of worry in his eyes.

He’d been about to take me home. And instead, here we were.

Maybe that was part of the deal, being part of a real pack. Life didn’t wait for perfect timing. You didn’t get to pick when people needed you.

But I couldn’t deny I wanted that stolen evening back. Just a few hours where it was just the two of us, without responsibilities clawing in from every side.

I found one of Connor’s sneakers half-buried in the mud near the stream. I howled to any nearby wolf as a warning, and headed deeper in that direction.

Eventually, the kid was found. Another enforcer caught his scent near the tree line and coaxed him out with a granola bar and a stern look.

I didn’t see him, but another pack member updated me that he was fine.

By the time I made it back to the pack house, it was almost sunrise. I was muddy, scraped up, exhausted and still thinking about Ethan.

Wondering if he was okay. Wondering if he was thinking about me too.

I didn’t want to push. I remembered Carter’s voice again, calm and maddeningly smug. Give him space. Let him come to you.

Still, I couldn’t help hoping. Maybe the night hadn’t been completely lost. Maybe it had just been postponed.

By the time I made it back to the pack house, the adrenaline had worn off and everything ached. My legs, my back, even my ribs from where I’d scraped against a rock on the trail.

I smelled like sweat and mud and a bit of pine sap, which wasn’t exactly the seductive aura I’d hoped to carry around Ethan.

Not that tonight had gone how I’d imagined. I stripped off my dirty clothes just inside my room and made a straight line for the shower.

The hot water stung over a few scrapes I hadn’t realized I had, but I let it wash the night off me, hoping it’d take the disappointment with it.

When I finally fell face-first onto my bed, clean and warm and more exhausted than I wanted to admit, I expected sleep to take me instantly.

It didn’t.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, running over the scent trails I’d followed, the kid’s muddy sneaker, Ethan’s voice saying “Rain check.”

My body was tired, sure. But my mind was pacing like a caged wolf. Restless. Pulled in a direction I hadn’t dealt with before. Finally, I gave up trying to sleep.

I got dressed again and headed out into the quiet halls. Most of the house had gone still. Lights dimmed, voices hushed. But I knew where Ethan would be. The clinic. I headed over there.

I knocked once out of habit, then eased the door open.

Inside, Ethan stood near one of the beds, adjusting a blanket over a small, sleeping figure. Connor. In the other bed, a girl.

She was maybe ten or eleven, with a scraped-up arm and a bruise across her forehead. She slept on her side, breathing slow and steady.

Ethan looked up when he sensed me and offered a small, tired smile. I felt something ease in my chest at the sight of it.

“Hey,” Ethan said softly.

“Hey.” I stepped inside, letting the door close gently behind me. “How are they?”

“Doing good,” he said, voice warm with relief. “Connor’s hydrated, no sign of infection. The girl, Naomi, she’s got a mild concussion, but she’s stable.”

“Good.” I glanced over both kids, then back at Ethan. “And you?”

Ethan shrugged, rubbing a hand over his face. Up close, I could see the faint shadows under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. “Running on fumes, but I’ll manage.”

“You been here all night?” I asked.

“Cooper went home around three. I said I’d stay. Didn’t make sense for both of us to lose sleep,” Ethan explained.

I frowned. “You could’ve called me.”

“You already helped track Connor. You must be wrecked,” Ethan pointed out.

“Still.” I looked at the kids, then back at him. “What if someone stayed to keep an eye on them and called you if anything changed?”

Ethan opened his mouth, probably to argue, then paused.

“I’m not trying to take over,” I added, gentler now. “But you need rest. Real rest. Not a chair nap. And I doubt either of those kids are going anywhere.”

Ethan hesitated for a long beat. Then finally and reluctantly, he nodded.

“You’re a stubborn man, Dean,” Ethan said.

“Takes one to know one,” I said.

I shot him a small grin, and Ethan, to my relief, gave a quiet laugh and shook his head.

“I’ll just ask Griffin to stop in and check every so often,” Ethan said, already reaching for his phone. “Clinic’s quiet. Should be fine.”

Five minutes later, the clinic was locked, the kids tucked in under the care of a rotating check-in schedule.

Ethan and I were walking side by side and neither of us said much.

When we reached my room, Ethan paused at the threshold. “You sure?”

I stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Yeah. You?”

Instead of answering, he walked in.

I pulled the covers back and climbed into the bed. Ethan followed, toeing off his shoes and settling beside me. We didn’t kiss. We didn’t talk.

Ethan just slid closer, close enough for our arms to brush, and let out a breath like he’d been holding it all day. I curled an arm around him, and he didn’t hesitate.

He just tucked his head against my shoulder, hand resting lightly against my chest like he’d been doing it for years.

“Still tired?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Ethan admitted.

“Then sleep,” I murmured, tightening my arm around him. “I got you.”

His body relaxed, finally, the tension melting from him as his breathing slowed.

I stirred to the weight of someone pressed close, to steady breathing against my chest.

For a moment, I forgot where I was, until I looked down and saw Ethan. His arm was draped across me, his face tucked into the hollow beneath my collarbone.

I could feel his slow, even breathing against my skin, the rise and fall of his chest in perfect sync with mine.

For a few seconds, I just stayed still, watching, trying to steady my heartbeat. I’d slept better than I had in weeks. Maybe longer.

The air smelled faintly of soap and clean cotton and Ethan. Something warm and herbal that always clung to him after long hours in the clinic.

I tilted my head and looked down, taking him in. His hair was a little messy, curling over his forehead, and his lips were slightly parted, soft and peaceful.

Ethan looked good here. Next to me. On me.

I swallowed. My heart kicked up again, pounding in my chest like it wanted to break free. Carefully, I turned a little, letting my hand drift up his spine, slow and lazy.

Ethan didn’t stir. Not really. Just made a soft sound in the back of his throat and burrowed closer. I smiled. Then I leaned down and kissed him.

Just a soft press of my mouth to his temple, then his cheek, then finally and unable to resist, to his lips. Ethan shifted, making a low noise like a sigh.

I pulled back slightly, watching him. And that’s when I heard a faint murmur.

“Mm… do that again,” he whispered, voice thick with sleep but unmistakably awake.

I froze. “You’re awake.”

His mouth curved, a lazy smirk against my skin. “Have been for a bit.”

“You were faking?” I demanded, pretending to sound outraged.

“Wasn’t faking. Just didn’t want to ruin it.” His eyes cracked open, hazy and golden in the morning light. “You’re warm. Felt nice.”

I chuckled, heart thudding harder. “You always this sneaky?”

“Only when it works,” Ethan answered.

Then his fingers slid up my chest and into my hair, pulling me down for a real kiss this time. It was slow and unhurried, his lips soft but sure.

Something cracked open in me. The night before had been all adrenaline and responsibility. This? This was something else.

A thread of need curling low in my stomach, yes, but laced with tenderness, with relief. Like the storm had passed and left us here, safe in the quiet after.

I kissed him again, deeper now, angling his head as I rolled on top of him. His hands slipped beneath my shirt, fingers dragging up my ribs and abs, making me growl.

“You sure?” I asked against his mouth.

Ethan looked up at me, eyes open and clear now. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I want this. I want you.”

That was all I needed. We moved together without hurry, learning each other with every touch, every glance.

I mapped the expanse of his chest with my hands, traced the lines of his ribs, the dip of his waist. Ethan arched into me, lips finding the side of my neck, making my breath catch.

We stripped slowly, laughing quietly when a shirt got stuck, moaning when skin finally met skin. Ethan was warm everywhere. Soft in some places, strong in others.

I plundered his mouth, left a trail of kisses down his neck, his collarbones, ribs and stomach. When I placed a kiss on the tip of his thickening member, he groaned.

Parting from him for a few seconds, I grabbed a bottle of lube from my dresser before returning to him. Then I straddled him again, lifting his legs over my shoulders.

“Hurry,” he said, pulling me in. “I want you in me.”

I applied plenty of lube inside his passage, prepping him for my access. Once I deemed him ready, I replaced my fingers with my dick.

I entered him, slow and steady, until I was deeply seated in him.

“You good?” I asked, concerned I hurt him but he only shook his head.

“Move, Dean,” he ordered and I complied.

After a slow start, I slowly increased the speed. Each time our bodies joined, it felt like part of my soul drifted to touch his. I reduced us both to panting messes.

My next push made Ethan gasp and arch his back. I knew I found his prostate and kept aiming for it.

“Dean,” he whispered, reaching for my hand.

I gave it a squeeze and gave him a tender kiss.

“I’m close,” he said.

I was in the same boat. My balls tightened against my body. The next time I entered him, Ethan came, painting my stomach and abs with his seed. Several thrusts later, I hit climax.

After, we lay in the aftermath, limbs still twined together, sweat cooling on our skin, hearts racing in a matching rhythm.

Ethan pressed his forehead to mine. “That was…”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “It was.”

We didn’t say more than that. Didn’t need to. His hand found mine beneath the blanket.

He laced our fingers together, then rested our joined hands over his chest, right where his heartbeat was strongest. I closed my eyes and let the sound of it lull me.

Wrapped around each other, we drifted in and out of silence, a cocoon of warmth and peace settling over us. For once, there was nothing pulling us away.

No emergencies, no calls. Just this. Just him. Just us.