by Tracy Wolff
But then he moves and I tense as he strokes his hands over my shoulders.
Whimper as he lowers his head and kisses my neck.
Shiver as he nibbles at the ticklish spot behind my ear.
I can’t help myself. He’s an addiction that I just can’t kick. One I’m terrified will haunt me the rest of my life.
He laughs in response, even as he licks his way down to the sensitive place where my neck meets my shoulder. Then he bites me.
My body lights up like the Fourth of July, my fear mingling with his fury, my arousal tangling with his need. And I know—I know—that there’s no more reason to fight. Because this is Ethan. He might have torn my heart to pieces, but he still holds me like I’m the most precious thing in his world. I don’t know what that means, and at the moment I don’t actually give a damn.
“Ethan. Please.”
This time he knows what I’m asking. We both do.
His hand slides around to my lower back, presses so that my back bows and my ass pushes more firmly against his stomach. At the same time, his other hand reaches up and cups my breast.
I moan as he squeezes my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, whimper as he bends his knees and slowly slides his cock through the wet, aching lips of my sex.
“I need you.” His breath is hot against my ear. “I tried to let you go. Tried to make you leave. But I can’t. Chloe, baby, I can’t.”
I’m so confused. So turned on. And listening to him is only making it worse. “Ethan. I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” He kisses and licks his way along my shoulder to the nape of my neck before sliding his tongue slowly—oh so fucking slowly—down my spine.
He’s talking the whole time, murmuring sex words, love words, words that make no sense except that they make me hotter. Make me burn. I want to turn around, to wrap myself around him and beg him to fuck me right here, right now, but Ethan is completely in control of how this goes down and he obviously wants it this way. Needs it this way.
All I want, all I need, is to feel him inside me one more time. He’s barely touched me and already I’m way too close. But I don’t want to come. Not on my own. Not if this is the last time Ethan is ever going to touch me like this.
“Do it!” I tell him, my voice so hoarse it’s nearly unrecognizable.
His only response is to bite me again, his teeth nipping at my back hard enough to leave a bruise this time. I scream, a high-pitched, primal thing that comes from deep inside me. Ethan must like the sound because he does it again. And again. Then his hand slides down my stomach to my abdomen, my mons, and finally, finally, to my aching, desperate sex.
Usually he’s gentle with me, sweet and careful, but this time the need is obviously riding him as hard as it is me. I can feel it in the urgent hardness of his cock, in the fine shivers that rack his body, in the quick, brutal way he shoves three fingers inside me.
Without warning, I go careening over the edge of an orgasm so intense, so shattering, that for long moments I lose myself. I forget everything—the pain, the fear, the rage, the devastation—and just feel.
Before the tremors even stop, Ethan is on his knees behind me. He grabs on to my thighs with his huge hands, yanks my legs apart. I’m spread wide open for him now, so wide that I’m off balance and the only things holding me up are the wall in front of me and Ethan behind me.
The aftershocks of ecstasy are still tearing through me, and I’m off-kilter. Vulnerable. And hurt—still so hurt. But before any of the feelings can take a firm hold, Ethan lifts me up onto my tiptoes and shoves his tongue deep inside me.
I scream. Clutch at the wall. Try to hold on to the last broken pieces of myself that I can claim as my own. But Ethan won’t have it. Not now. Not this time.
He wants everything, every little shard that I have left, and he’s not shy about claiming them. Claiming me.
His tongue is everywhere—circling my clit, sliding along my labia, thrusting deep inside me.
His fingers are everywhere—pinching my nipples and my clit, sliding along the sensitive skin at the bends of my knees and elbows, digging into my thighs and grounding me with small pinches of pain.
He’s everywhere—behind me, beside me, inside me so deep that I know I’ll never get him out.
Not now. Not after this.
The pleasure is building again, taking me higher and higher and higher until I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel. I’m insensate with it, completely overwhelmed. Completely under his spell. Just the way Ethan wants me.
With a twist of his tongue, he sends me tumbling into ecstasy again. And again. And again.
Time loses meaning, everything does, until there’s nothing—no one—but Ethan and me and the cataclysmic heat between us.
I’m holding on to the wall now, my fingers seeking purchase, surcease, as my entire body trembles violently. I can’t take much more without breaking, but I don’t want it to be over, either. Don’t want it to end. Not until I feel Ethan inside me one last time.
“Do it,” I choke out. “Damn you. Just do it.”
Ethan’s only answer is to thrust his tongue even deeper inside me at the same time as he presses his thumb slowly, inexorably, into my anus.
My knees buckle as another climax roars through me. This time not even the wall can hold me up. My body starts to sag, to slide down, but Ethan catches me like he always does. Holds me in place. And sends me careening over the edge one more time.
I’m crying now, hot tears of pleasure and pain rolling down my face as sobs rack my body. It’s too much. Too much. Too much. I can’t take anymore.
Ethan knows—like he always does—and suddenly he’s on his feet again. He turns me to face him and through my tears I see the same ecstasy and agony that I’m feeling reflected back at me from his damn oceanic eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he tells me even as he presses hot kisses against my forehead, my cheeks, my lips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Just do it,” I choke out. “Please. I can’t—”
His mouth takes mine in a kiss so ripe with emotion—with pain and pleasure and everything in between—that all I can do is open myself and take everything he needs to give me.
Then he’s lifting me up, and he’s strong enough that he doesn’t even need the wall to help support me. Instead, he holds tight and growls, “Wrap your arms and legs around me.”
I do, and that’s when he slides deep inside me with one powerful thrust.
“Oh, God. Baby. Oh, God.” He buries his face in my neck, and even as pleasure races through me I register the feel of hot tears against my skin.
“Ethan.” My fingers tangle in his hair, and I try to pull his head up so I can see his eyes. But he refuses to look at me. He’s shaking and shuddering now, so badly that he finally does press me against the wall for added support.
He’s kissing and licking the bend of my neck, sending new sparks of pleasure shooting up and down my spine. But the tremors are still racking his body and I can still feel the tears.
I can’t help it. Destroyed and devastated though I am, I can’t see him like this and not ache. I wrap my arms around him, pull him even closer.
“I love you,” I whisper into his ear, relinquishing the final, broken piece of myself into his care. I can’t stop myself, don’t want to stop myself, even knowing he might very well throw it back in my face before this night is over. “I love you, Ethan Frost, and will until the day I die.”
“Chloe!” He grabs my face in his hands, his mouth latching onto mine like a dying man who has finally found salvation. Seconds later he starts to come, and I pull him closer, hold him tight, as he empties all that he is inside me.
Chapter Twenty-eight
I don’t know how long we stand there like that, Ethan impaled inside me, me wrapped around him. And I don’t care. All that matters is that he’s mine. For these long, trembling moments Ethan Frost belongs only to me. Even knowing that I’m only
minutes away from having to give him up once and for all doesn’t mar the preciousness of these moments. How can it when, for the first time, Ethan is as vulnerable, as open as I am?
He’s still kissing me, his mouth hot, demanding, voracious on mine. I kiss him back. I kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. Until my lips burn and my jaw aches and my tears have finally burned themselves away. And then I kiss him some more.
“I didn’t mean it,” he finally says, lifting his head just enough so that there’s a scant inch of space between us. “I didn’t mean any of it.”
His breath is hot on my face, his body hard and solid against me. Inside me. And still I don’t know what to say. What to think or feel or do. How can I when his earlier indifference is still an open, aching wound inside me?
“Baby, I swear. I never meat to hurt you.”
I shake my head, look away. Try not to hear. Try even harder not to listen to the words coming out of his mouth. They’re exactly what I wanted him to say twenty minutes ago, thirty minutes ago. But not now.
Not when it’s too late.
Not when I feel like I’ve been ripped open, all my pain and fear and need on trembling display.
Not when I’ve already broken.
I must have spoken out loud, because he tells me, “It’s not too late. It’s not.” He drops kisses on my cheek, my temple, the side of my neck. For the first time I register that his torn-up lip feels rough against my skin. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
The tears have stopped now, and I don’t move, don’t speak, barely even breathe. My whole body feels like it’s been encased in ice, and for the first time I’m grateful for the chill. Because I don’t want to feel this. I don’t want to feel any of it. But he’s still inside me, and as he moves and trembles against me, it’s impossible for me not to feel. Impossible for me not to love him.
Still, we can’t go on this way. “Let me go, Ethan.”
“I tried. Believe me. I tried to let you go. But I just can’t. I need you too much.” Shuddering, he buries his face against my throat. There’s a selfish part of me that wants to shrug him off, to reject him the way he rejected me, but I can’t do it. I can’t harden my heart to him any more than I can keep my body from him. Good or bad, Ethan Frost owns me. And, I realize as the desperation of his hold finally sinks in, I own him, too.
Silence stretches between us for far too long. Finally, when I can’t take it anymore, I demand, “Tell me why. If you want me to stay, you need to tell me why you did this. Why you tried to tear us apart so completely.”
He stiffens against me, pulls away. Puts me gently on the floor. My legs try to buckle when they first try to take my weight again, but Ethan grabs on to me. Holds me until I’m steady.
As I wait for him to speak, I retrieve my panties and yoga pants. Start to pull them on, then realize I’m wet with him. Ethan didn’t wear a condom.
For long seconds, my mind boggles at the realization. But before I can even begin to wrap my head around what that might mean, Ethan takes my hand and tugs me toward the closest bathroom.
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“Neither of us was.”
“Is it—”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, having already done the calculations in my head. “We’re fine.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything else. Just wets a washcloth and cleans me up before tenderly—so tenderly—helping me dress. Only then, when I’m fully clothed and as armored as I can get, does he say, “I was trying to save you.”
“Save me?” I look at him in disbelief. “Let’s be honest. More likely you were trying to save yourself.”
“It’s too late for that. It has been for more years than I can count.”
“I don’t believe that. Everybody knows how amazing the great Ethan Frost is. Everybody loves you.”
He shakes his head. “Because nobody knows me.”
“I know you.”
“You don’t. If you did, you’d run out that door and never come back.”
“I tried that. You’re the one who stopped me.”
He closes his eyes, lowers his head like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “Don’t you get it? I’m going to end up destroying you, Chloe.”
I gesture to myself, to the tearstains and the mess and the hands that still won’t stop shaking. “You pretty much already have.”
“Don’t say that.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Don’t even think it.”
I watch him for long seconds, trying to figure out what to do. Trying to find the hate or the rage, something that would make it easier to ignore Ethan and walk right out the door. But I’m still weak from his lovemaking and his tears and his need, so nothing comes, nothing but the mangled compassion that reinforces the knowledge that I still love him. That I’ll always love him.
“You need the peas.”
He stares at me without comprehension. “Excuse me?”
“Your face is swelling up more every minute. You need to put the peas on your eye and your cheek.”
“Do you think I give a damn about my face right now?”
“I don’t know what you give a damn about, Ethan. That’s the problem.” I stand up and start toward the kitchen.
This time, he follows me—after picking up the broken belly chain from where it fell on the foyer floor.
A couple of minutes later, he’s settled at the kitchen table holding the bag of peas to his face. I’m across the room, arms wrapped around myself. After everything that’s happened, I don’t trust myself to get too close to him, and I don’t trust him at all.
“It’s been a bad couple of days,” he finally says. “I found out some stuff about my family that—” He breaks off, shakes his head.
“Your dad?”
“No. My mom and brother.”
“You have a brother? I didn’t know that.” The news reports never mention him, or Ethan’s mom. She and his father divorced long before he became a national hero, so the only people in the public eye when he died were Ethan and his grandparents. It seems strange that no one’s picked up on this other side of his family, but then again, they’ve never been important to the story of his life, so why should the media care?
“He’s my half brother. My mom remarried.”
“What does that have to do with you?” With us?
“My mom’s pretty much a crazy person, always has been. Oh, she puts on a good show, but she is definitely a little nuts. Anyway, after she left my father, she never wanted much to do with me. She had a new husband, a new son, a new life. There was no room in it for me.
“And that was fine. I had my grandparents and my dad. I didn’t need her. But there was my brother, you know. I worried about him. Her husband seemed nice enough, but…who knew what went on behind closed doors?
“So from the time I’ve been old enough, I’ve kind of made a point of checking in on him. Make sure he’s doing okay.”
“Is he?” Despite myself, I’m fascinated by this glimpse into Ethan’s mind. Fascinated and worried, because if the way tonight has gone is any indication, this story isn’t going to have a happy ending.
“Yeah, he’s doing good. Better than he should be, probably,” he mutters darkly.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“When he was younger, he got into some trouble. Stupid stuff, mostly. I helped him get out of it. Figured with a mom like his, it was only logical that he’d have some problems. Except I screwed up. I got him out of too much trouble. Made things too easy for him.”
I reach for his hand. “You’re his brother. It’s only natural to want to save him from his mistakes.”
“Don’t say that. I can take that from anyone else, but I can’t take it from you. Not right now.”
Now I’m totally confused, but I don’t say anything. I just watch him, let him get it all out.
“On Thursday night, I found out that some of the trouble he was in…some of the trouble I was certain wasn’t his fault ac
tually was. And I got him out of it.”
Thursday night. The night everything changed. The tight ball of hurt inside me loosens just a little. It doesn’t disappear, but I know about making bad decisions. Know about wanting to push people away.
“I fucked up, Chloe. I fucked up bad. Like I always do.”
“Ethan, that’s ridiculous. You fuck up less than anyone I know.” I reach for his hand, squeeze it. “But you’re not perfect. Nobody is.”
He looks from me to the broken belly chain that he still has clutched in his hand. “Yeah, obviously I’m not perfect.”
I bite my lip, look away. “Why did you say those things, Ethan? Why did you break up with me over something that has nothing to do with us?”
He watches me for long seconds, his eyes so dark and miserable that I can barely stand to look into them. I’ve never seen Ethan like this, never seen him look so defeated. So destroyed.
Finally, when I’m certain he’s not going to answer me, he says, “I’ve only ever loved a few people in my life, Chloe, and I’ve fucked it up with all of them. In one stupid, spiteful moment I ruined everything between my father and me, and he died before I could fix it.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“You don’t know that. My grandparents lost everything trying to help me achieve my dream of getting Frost Industries off the ground. And I let them. I didn’t know what they’d done, but I should have. They died before I could make it up to them.
“My brother. I’ve helped my mother ruin him without even knowing what I was doing.
“And now there’s you. And I’m terrified I’m going to destroy you, too.”
There’s not much I can say to that after the scene I made here tonight. I still don’t like the way he handled things and I’m still hurt that his first thought was to cut me out of his life. But if he thought he was protecting me, saving me from some ridiculous streak of bad luck, then I can forgive him. God knows I’m not exactly logical when it comes to the people I love, either.