Addicted (Ethan Frost #2)(33)

“Fuck, Chloe!” he groans as my body goes haywire, vision blurring, breath stuttering, sex clenching rhythmically around him.

And then he’s coming, his face buried against my neck as he empties all that he has, all that he is, so deep inside of me that I know I’ll never, ever be the same again.





Chapter Ten


When it’s over, when my body has stopped wigging out in twenty-seven different directions and I can almost remember what it feels like to take a full breath, Ethan slides me slowly down his body until my feet meet the hard packed sand.

My legs buckle the moment I try to actually use them for more than holding on to Ethan, and I start to crumble. He catches me, his hands warm and big against my back as he holds me up.

“You okay?” he asks for what feels like the millionth time.

“I’m fine,” I tell him with an eye roll and a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m better than fine. I’m really good.”

He smiles then, the first real smile I’ve seen from him today. I can tell, because even in the shadows where we are still lurking, I can see his eyes light up like Times Square.

“Come home with me,” he says as he bends down to retrieve my now ruined suit pants.

I stare at them in dismay, wondering what the hell I’m going to do now that the only power suit I have is pretty much irreparably damaged. I should be more upset by this—hard to be a legal intern without a good suit—but I’ve just had the most amazing orgasm of my life and Ethan is here and he’s holding me, smiling at me, loving me. The suit seems like more than fair collateral damage.
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“Chloe?” he prompts when I don’t answer him right away. “Am I pushing too hard?”

He is, absolutely, but then he wouldn’t be Ethan if he didn’t. And while I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to go home with him now, when we still have so many things to work out, saying no seems a little like closing the barn door after the horse. He’s already f*cked me into incoherence. What else could he possibly do, except more of the same? An outcome I’m nowhere near as opposed to as I should be, by the way.

“That depends,” I tell him, still eyeing my wet, sandy clothes with distaste.

“On what?” His eyes narrow and I can see the CEO in him gearing up for a serious negotiation. There’s wariness in his eyes, and the same leftover remnants of fear and agony that I know are in my own, as well.

“On whether or not going with you will keep me from having to put my clothes back on.”

Ethan laughs then, a low, happy sound that sends joy and heat sizzling along my nerve endings. I can’t believe this.

I just came—twice.

My knees are still so weak that I can barely stand on my own.

My body is deliciously sore and deliciously sated … and still I want him. Still I can feel myself aching deep inside, missing the feel and the touch and the taste of him against me.

“Come with me,” he whispers in between pressing hot kisses to my temple, “and you’ll never have to wear those clothes again.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He grins as he picks up his own soggy shirt and jacket off the sand. His shirt seems to have sustained the most damage, so he just wraps me up in his suit jacket before re-fastening his pants and belt.

“Come on,” he tells me then, sweeping me into his arms and carrying me across the parking lot to the limo he has waiting at the back of it.

“The limo, huh? To what do I owe this honor?” Ethan and I have been together since the beginning of the summer and I’ve only seen him use the limo once before. And that was when he had people in town from Japan.

“I had a lot of work I wanted to cover today, and the hour I spent in traffic trying to get to the Trifecta meeting seemed like a perfect time to do it. Besides”—he grins ruefully—“I haven’t been able to sleep since you left me. It seemed safer all around to let Michael drive me for a few days.”

That sobers me up, the levity leaving as quickly as it came. “I’m s—”

“I swear to God, Chloe, if you apologize to me one more time for something that is in no way your fault I will not be responsible for my actions.” He’s glaring at me now, his mouth set in a warning scowl that tells me just how serious he is. He never looks at me like that. Or, at least, he never has before.

I slide closer to him as the limo pulls out of its parking spot, run my hand down his jaw. It’s just a little bit prickly now, the stubble that has crept up there since this morning making him look sexy and dangerous. Hot.

“I was awful to you. In the parking lot that day. I could have been—”

“You were hurting. You were traumatized and you had every right to be. If you’d screamed at me, or punched me, you would have been well within your rights then, too. Telling me that being with me hurts you—” He shakes his head. “That nearly killed me. But it was no more than I deserved.

“Hurting you is the last thing I ever wanted, Chloe, and it kills me that you’re suffering now because of our relationship. I’m the one who needs to apologize, baby, the one who should be groveling at your feet. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so—”

I cut him off with a kiss. Not because his apology isn’t important, but because I’m not ready for it. Not here, not now, when this truce between us is still so new, so fragile. When I’m afraid that anything might come along and knock it—knock us—off our axis again.