“What makes you think, even for a second, that I’m joking? I would marry you tomorrow if you’d agree. Vegas. A justice of the peace. An impromptu beach wedding in Tahiti. I don’t actually give a shit. I love you, Chloe, and the second you are ready to marry me, I promise we’ll get it done.”
His mouth crashes down on mine then, and I’m so out of it—so completely astonished—that I can’t do anything but sit there clinging to him as he ravishes me.
His mouth is everywhere, his hands everywhere, and I don’t know what to think, what to say. All I can do is feel. And I do, God, I do.
I feel the press of his lips against my collarbone as his tongue dances lightly over the pulse point in my neck.
I feel the rough caress of his hands as they slide under my tank top to stroke their way over my ribs, up my spine.
I feel the hard thrust of his cock against my sex, my clit, as he rocks against me in a slow, gentle rhythm that brings me right to the brink of orgasm.
“I want to wake up with you in my arms every morning,” he murmurs as he nips softly at my throat. “I want to hold you when you cry, to taste your joy when you laugh.
“I want to shelter you, to hold you so deeply inside me that no one will ever hurt you again.” His hands move around to my front, and his thumbs hook around my belly chain, tug lightly at the platinum links. It’s a reminder that he’s already claimed me, already branded me.
“I want to love you, Chloe. I just want to love you.”
His words take me higher, stoking the flames inside of me until all I can feel, all I can see, all I can breathe is him.
“I know you’re young. I know you’re not ready to talk about forever with me—especially with everything that’s happened—but I want you to know that that’s where we’re headed. That’s what I want from you. That’s what I want to give to you.” It’s what I want, too. What I’ve wanted since he made love to me so tenderly, so honestly, after I told him about the rape. What I’ve felt from the moment he slid this belly chain around my waist and claimed me so completely. It’s why our breakup devastated me so completely, why it ripped my heart out and left me a trembling, self-destructive mess. Why what I feel for him is so much more than need, so much more than addiction.
“Ethan, I—” There’s so much I want to say to him, so much I want him to know about how I feel and what I want, but the words are stuck in my throat. They’re stuck deep inside of me, and I can’t force them out.
I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m not committed. It’s not like I don’t love him. I do, God, I do. It’s only … what? I don’t know. I spent that whole run trying to figure it out and I’m no closer to knowing now than I was when I took off, hours ago.
All I know is that finding out about Brandon broke something inside of me. Seeing Ethan standing next to him, laughing and joking and celebrating with him, cracked me wide open and ripped me apart all over again. It destroyed something I’m not sure can ever be put back together again.
And I know, Ethan didn’t know. I believe him when he says that fund-raiser took place before he realized who Brandon was to me. And it should matter—it does matter—and yet there’s this lump of ice inside of me that I’m terrified will never melt. It’s like this is just one thing too many. One kick too many. One strike too many.
One betrayal too many.
Of all the men out there in the world, I had to fall in love with this one.
It doesn’t make sense. Am I really that ruined, that addicted, that I can’t find my way clear? Of him. Of this. Of the dangerous emotions battering me from every side.
Or is it that I’m not ruined at all? Damaged, yes. Hurt, absolutely. But loving Ethan—being loved by him—feels like the cleanest, purest thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.
“It’s okay, baby,” he tells me as he brushes, soft silky kisses against my throat, down my shoulder, over the slopes of my breasts. “I know it’s too soon. I know you don’t trust me anymore.”
“It’s not—”
He kisses me then, soft and sweet and gentle. So gentle. “It is. And that’s okay. I get it.”
But it isn’t okay. Even in the dark, I can see the look in his eyes. Can see the way I’ve hurt him. The way I’m breaking him even now.
The knowledge does something to me on a visceral level. It turns me inside out, makes me hurt in a way nothing ever has before and that I pray never will again. I love this man, I love him even through the pain, even through the fear, even through the betrayal, and the idea that I’m wrecking him as I’ve been wrecked—it shatters me.
“I love you,” I tell him, grabbing his face in my hands and pulling his mouth back to mine. Only this kiss isn’t soft and it sure as hell isn’t sweet. It’s deep and dark and damaged, so damaged. It’s tongues and teeth, pleasure and pain, heaven and hell. It’s everything Ethan and I are laid bare between us and nothing has ever felt so right.
“Fuck, Chloe!” Ethan rips his mouth from mine even as he throws open the car door. Then he’s levering his hands under my ass and climbing out of the car with me still in his arms.
I expect him to carry me into the house, but he doesn’t get any farther than the front porch before slowly sliding me down his body. And then he’s turning me so that I’m facing the porch railing, my hands planted firmly on the wrought iron.
“What are you doing? We’re on the front por—” I break off when he snaps his teeth against the nape of my neck hard enough to leave a bruise.
Heat courses through me and I gasp, tremble. Then he’s between my legs, pushing down my yoga pants with one hand while his other hand fumbles his jeans out of the way.
He presses me forward, grazes his teeth along my neck one more time, even as he reaches between my thighs to test my readiness. I’m hot and wet, my body aching and clenching with the need to feel him inside me.
“Ethan, please. I need—” My words turn to dust in my mouth as he bends me over the railing and surges inside of me with one powerful thrust of his hips.
I whimper deep in my throat, probably would have screamed if I wasn’t worried about alerting the whole neighborhood to what we’re doing. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since he was inside of me, but that’s too long. Far too long. I need this. I need him, Ethan, inside of me, loving me, all the time. I need the power and the softness, the passion and the sweetness that is him. Again and again and again.
I try to speak, but my mouth is desert dry. There’s only enough thought, enough sanity left for the high, hungry sounds clawing their way out of my throat with each heavy slam of Ethan’s hips against my ass.
I reach behind him, rake my nails down his bare ass as I try to pull him even closer. “Harder,” I finally manage to form the word that’s been throbbing inside of me since the moment I first felt his fingers rubbing against my sex. “Please. Harder.”
Ethan responds with more pressure, with harder thrusts until it almost feels like he’s ripping me apart. But it’s good, so good, and I don’t want him to stop. Not now. Not ever.
His left hand moves between my legs while his right one remains at the small of my back, pressing me forward for the best angle. He spreads me open, strokes the spot where we’re joined. Fireworks go off inside of me and I climb higher and higher, the need to orgasm growing with every second that passes.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs, breath hot and heavy against my ear. “Come for me. Let me feel you.” He reaches for my clit then, strokes his thumb over it once, twice, a third time. That’s all it takes to break me open, to shatter me. I come, sobbing his name.
And still Ethan doesn’t stop. He rides me through the orgasm, his heavy body pounding into mine even as he continues to stroke my clit. Wave after wave of sensation crashes through me, weakening my knees and sending slivers of electricity to every part of me.
And then he’s sliding a hand under my tank top, rubbing my nipples through my bra. I’m so sensitive that it almost hurts even as it causes another wave
of pleasure to crash through me. “I can’t,” I gasp, pushing at his hand. “No more.”
“There’s always more,” he tells me, squeezing my nipple between his thumb and index finger. “There has to be. You’re mine, Chloe. You’re mine and I’m never letting you go.”
He continues thrusting into me, even as he licks his tongue down the side of my neck. One of his hands is on my breast, the other is on my clit and I can feel another orgasm building inside me. This one is immense, terrifying, nearly painful in its intensity and there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to let go. That wants to stay right here, where it’s safe. Where I’m grounded and don’t have to worry about being adrift in the ocean of emotions Ethan calls forth from me.
But Ethan won’t have it. “Come on, Chloe. Give it to me. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you, love. One more time. I swear, I’ve got you.”
He strokes my clit harder, faster, determined to bring me over. “I love it when you come. I love being inside of you when your muscles clench around me again and again.”
He bends his head to my shoulder, licks at the line of sweat that’s rolling down my shoulder blade. “I love the way your skin flushes and your mouth falls open. I love the way your nipples peak and your hips jerk against mine.” He skims his lips over my lobe, his tongue sweeping against the sensitive spot behind my ear as he continues to whisper to me, continues to drive me higher with his words and his body and his love. Always his love.
Tears are streaming down my face now, my body so far out of my control that I can’t imagine ever belonging to myself again. And in this moment, at this time, I can’t bring myself to care. Not with Ethan’s body moving feverishly inside mine. Not with his words ripping though me like lightning, inflaming me, taking me higher and higher with every breath that passes between us.
“I love the way you take me,” he tells me. “I love the way you give yourself to me so completely, the way you give and give and give. I love how you take all of me. How you tremble against me and beg for more.” His mouth fastens on the spot between my neck and shoulder, sucking ravenously.
“I love the way you look at me, like you don’t quite get me but are determined to figure me out. I love how brave you are. I love how strong you are, how you always get back up. I love how honest and open you are, with your body and your heart.”
He sucks hard against my neck, leaves another bruise, then soothes it with his tongue. His wicked, wonderful tongue.
“I love your body.” He thrusts into me again and again. “I love the softness of your skin, how it glows in the moonlight. I love connecting the dots of your freckles, making pictures on your thighs and stomach and shoulders.
“I love your breasts. I love the way they feel in my hands, round and soft and heavy.” His fingers move to my other breast, play with it, as well. “I love how hard your nipples get for me, love the way you always taste like sweet cream and honey. I love your eyes and how they always tell me what you’re thinking. I love the way you look at me. I love the way you’re always so open and honest, how you never try to hide yourself away from me.
“I love being inside you—” He gives an extra hard thrust for emphasis and it’s all I can do to breathe. “And I absolutely adore your ass.” One of his hands drifts between the globes of my ass, pressing against my anus until I’m seeing stars. And then he’s thrusting one long finger inside of me, slowly, carefully pressing deeper and deeper until I forget all the reasons I can’t scream and just let go.
He laughs at the sound, a low, deep chuckle against my ear that sends heat spiraling through me. I’m so close now, teetering on the edge, but for all his big words earlier, he refuses to send me over again. Refuses to let me come even as I twist and plead against him. “I love everything about you, Chloe.” He slides that insidious finger inside me again, strokes deep inside me even as he pulls his cock out and slams home, again and again and again. “I just love you, baby. I just love you.”
That’s what does it, what finally sends me soaring over the edge into an orgasm so powerful that it feels a little bit like death itself. There’s a roaring in my ears, a blackness in front of my eyes. And a supernova inside of me burning brighter and brighter and brighter until I fall straight through the wide, dark center of it.
Ethan comes then, too, calling my name as his powerful body spills and spills and spills inside of me.
I keep coming and so does he, for long, interminable seconds that tie us together like nothing else ever has.
And when it’s over, when he’s emptied himself so completely into me that he can barely lift his head from where it rests between my shoulder blades, I know the truth.
That he has wrecked me, just as surely as he’s wrecked himself. And in doing so, he’s filled me up completely. With his love, with himself, with everything I never knew I needed. And I’ll love him for it forever.
Chapter Eighteen
My alarm goes off at six-thirty, barely an hour after Ethan and I finally stumbled into the house and down the hall to bed. I groan as I reach for my phone to shut it off, telling myself as I do that I shouldn’t throw the stupid thing across the room. After all, it isn’t my phone’s fault that I’m a total idiot.
It’s a close call, though, and might have ended badly except Ethan fumbles it out of my hand and drops it gently to the floor before pulling me into him, my back to his chest.
“We have to get up.” I groan, the idea of actually prying my eyes open leaves me feeling sick and dizzy. I’m exhausted, not to mention sore as hell from my blind flight down the beach last night. A flight that seems stupid in light of how it all ended up, with Ethan and me joined so closely that for long moments I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. “I have a meeting today. And you probably have to buy a small country.”
“Two small countries, actually,” he says, pressing soft, warm kisses against my shoulder. “But alas, Frost Industries is closed because of the fires, so there will be no takeovers today.”
“Closed?” I ask him, somehow finding the strength to both open my eyes and turn my head so that I can see his face. “Are you just screwing with me?” I demand. “As punishment for what happened last night?”
He licks his way slowly down my spinal cord. “I thought I’d already exacted revenge for you running away last night. Remember, on the porch, when you went a little crazy? But if you’d like me to try again …” He rolls us over so that I’m facedown against the bed and he’s on top of me, all long, lean, powerful muscles. “I’m sure I can be persuaded.”
I arch my back a little, rub my naked ass against his already very aroused cock. He groans a little even as he slides an arm under me to cant my hips up higher. And then he’s sliding against me, sliding into me, with long, lazy strokes that have my breath catching in my throat.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Chloe,” he murmurs against my ear as his thumb moves to circle my clit.
“Me? I was just lying here minding my own business when—” I break off, gasping, as his cock nudges against my G-spot.
“Like that, huh?” he asks, rolling his hips so that he hits it again and then again.
“What’s not … what’s not to like?” I squirm against him a little, trying to get my arm out from under me, and he groans.
“Fuck, baby. Do that again.”
So I do, wiggling even as I tighten my internal muscles so that I’m clamping down around him.
“Fuck,” he says again, in a voice gone low and dark.
The sound of his arousal stokes my own and in an instant our early-morning lovemaking session goes from lazy to urgent. Heat slams through me and I reach back, dig my nails into his ass as I pull him into me.
Ethan growls at the quick prick of pain, and then he’s rocking into me so hard that the headboard slams against the wall.
It’s quick and intense and powerful, so powerful. We’ve never done it like this before with Ethan completely on top of me, covering every inch of me with his strong, muscu
lar body. I don’t know why we haven’t, except that he’s always been very careful not to put me in a position where I feel helpless, overwhelmed. Where I feel powerless.
But this, this isn’t about being powerless.
Yes, I’m trapped beneath him. Yes, he’s definitely controlling the fast, hard rhythm of our lovemaking. And still, I’ve never felt more powerful.
How could I not when Ethan is murmuring wicked, dirty things in my ear? When he’s making low, desperate sounds in the back of his throat? When he’s making love to me like I’m the most important person in his world.
“Chloe, fuck, baby. I’m so close. I’m so—”
I turn my head then, grab hold of Ethan’s hair and pull his mouth down to mine. It’s a wild, depraved thing, this kiss, filled with tongue and teeth and desperate curses. And it goes on and on and on as Ethan continues to pound me into the bed.
“I love you,” he tells me as he yanks his mouth from mine. “I love you, Chloe. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
And then it’s his turn to shove his hands through my hair, his turn to pull my head back. He fastens his mouth to my neck, to my throat, and ecstasy wells up within me.
“Ethan!” I cry his name as my body hurtles over the edge. And then he’s with me, holding me, loving me, as we splinter into a thousand pieces that somehow fit together just perfectly.
Hours later, I awaken to Ethan’s hand on my shoulder, his concerned face inches from mine.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, trying to gather my still-scattered wits.
“You need to get dressed. We have to go.”
“Go?” I’m still groggy, still out of it from the crazy late night run and too-intense early morning lovemaking.
“The fires are getting bad. We’re going to Napa for a couple of days.”
“Napa? We can’t just go to Napa.”
“Well, we can’t stay here. There’s a total of fifteen fires burning around the city, the air quality is shit and everything is shut down. It’ll be days before they get things under control.”