Echo, Mine by Georgia Lyn Hunter Page B

beneath
her panties. Her breath hitched and she forgot what she wanted to
say as he stroked her heated flesh.
    A low whimper broke free. She squeezed her
eyes shut, his finger sinking inside her. His thumb circled her
clit, gently at first then harder, and her entire body went into
meltdown. Her inner muscles squeezed around his finger. He pulled
out and pushed back into her. With his other hand on her bottom, he
tugged her to his face. A startled gasped escaped her as she fell
over him. Before she could right herself, he pushed aside her
panties and put his mouth on her aching clit. And sucked.
    Oh, dear God! A moan of pure need
tore out from her throat. Echo braced her hands on the sands above
his head, but there was no purchase on the loose surface. She no
longer cared as his mouth worked her with slow licks and hard
pulls. An intense orgasm tightened her lower body, consuming her
mind, her thoughts. It yanked her up and over, and with a keening
cry she fell apart.
    For a long moment, she remained where she
was, pulling in desperate gulps of air.
    His arms tightened around her, supporting
her. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh.
    Echo opened her eyes. The sounds of crashing
waves and screeching birds filled her ears above her own tumultuous
heartbeat as reality flowed back.
    She’d forgotten they were out in the open,
but she didn't care. He’d touched her—loved her as if he couldn’t
get enough of her. Breathing hard, she straightened and met his
lazy smile. He seemed in no hurry to leave as he lay there.
    “I can't believe you did that here .”
She struggled to get her mind in order—
    “I will do that anywhere I'm able
to.”
    She blinked— wait . There was something
she had to talk to him about. She tried to recall what the heck it
was. He ran his fingers lightly up her thighs again. A low, shaky
laugh escaped her, and she scooted down his body, bracing her
unsteady hands on his chest.
    The man was an ace at distracting her.
    Crap, of course. The club—Jon— darn
it . Echo pulled her scattered thoughts together and said what
she’d tried to earlier, “Aethan, I want to go to Anarchy.”
    His hands stilled on her thighs. His entire
expression shut down like a light extinguished. Her lover gone.
“No. Choose another club.”
    And there it was. No hesitation in his
response. She hadn't believed Týr when he’d told her Aethan avoided
Club Anarchy since that night last fall. So she dove right in,
despite his tight features. “Aethan, please. I want to make things
right.”
    He shifted her and sat up, dropping her on
his lap, a dark look on his face. She slid both her hands to his
neck and stroked the rigid line of his jaw with her thumbs. “I know
you're still angry about Jon, but he’s a friend, you know
this—look, I knew Jon long before I met you, don’t you think I
could have dated him if I’d wanted to?”
    He stared into the night, then those flat,
gray eyes flickered to hers. “Who told you?”
    “I'm not telling you, not until you take
me.”
    His mouth thinned at the bribe. A moment
passed, then a few more, as if he were weighing some kind of option
in his mind. Finally, he pushed her to her feet and rose.
    She put her hands on her hips. “So, what
will it be? The club or the sea?”
    And that cool stare that she knew so well
when he wasn’t happy about doing something came back to her. He
brushed the sand off him, then unfastened and rolled both his
sleeves to his elbow before responding, “What do you think?”
    “I'm glad.” Relieved, Echo quickly dusted
herself off and straightened her top, then she hesitated. The
buttons were undone, exposing the curves of her breasts. He must
have done it while deliciously distracting her. Mischief gleamed
alive at the thought of further taunting him, so she buttoned a few
and left the rest alone.
    At the pathway, Echo grabbed her boots, and
they headed to the restaurant’s parking lot.
    Aethan retrieved a bottle of water from the
Range