Addicted (Ethan Frost #2)(39)

I’m not so sure he’s right. I was fine before I knew him. But now? Now that I’ve been held and cared for and loved by Ethan? I don’t know that I’ll ever be okay without him again. On one level, the thought terrifies me. But on another, more primitive level? It soothes me, makes me feel safe. Because Ethan is here and he’s mine and when I do fall, when I do mess up, he’ll be here to catch me—just like I’ll catch him.

“But I do need you,” he continues, turning me over so that we’re face-to-face. “More than I’ve ever needed anyone in my life. I tried to let you go when you asked, but here we are, right back where we started. It’s too late now—you had your chance before. Now—now, I don’t think I could let you go if I tried.

“You’re in my blood. You’re in my heart, in my brain, in the very fabric of my soul. You’re an addiction, one I’ll never get enough of. I love you, Chloe Girard. I love you more than you could ever possibly imagine.

“And if you don’t want to talk about the past, then we won’t talk about it. At least not right now, when everything is still so raw. But you need to understand something—I have some ultimatums of my own and they all revolve around making sure that you’re okay. That you’re as healthy and happy and whole as you possibly can be.

“I respect you, as a woman and as a human being. I respect your right to handle things your own way and in your own time. It’s your body and it’s your life.

“But you also need to know that you’re mine now and I take care of what’s mine. Which means I’m not going to stand by and watch you hurting over something that I can fix. I’m not going to let you beat yourself up over the very things that you should be proudest of. And no one, no one, is going to hurt you and get away with it. Not now. Not ever again.

“You’re mine, Chloe, and you need to know that I will do whatever I have to, to keep you safe.”

His words arrow straight through me, past the hard shell of my defenses and the slightly softer layers of my hurt and resistance. They arrow straight to the soft and secret core of me, the small, defenseless part that has always wanted someone to lean on. Someone to trust. Someone to shoulder the burden with me.

And though on the surface, the brother of the man who raped me isn’t a wise choice for that role, looking into Ethan’s eyes, seeing the love and devotion reflected there, I know I’ll never find anyone better.

“I get it,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

“Do you?”

“Absolutely. We’re both completely neurotic. It’s a good thing we found each other because no one else would have us.”

He does laugh then. “You’re probably right. Good thing I plan on keeping you.”

“Yeah. It’s a good thing.”

He reaches over to the bedside drawer and pulls something out even as he captures my mouth in a kiss that leaves me breathless and horny and hopeful all at the same time.

My head is still spinning from it when I feel something cool brush against my stomach. I recognize it instantly, and look down just in time to watch Ethan refasten the belly chain around my waist.

He looks at the chain in obvious satisfaction before scooting down to press kisses along its length. “Don’t take it off again.”

There’s something about the tone of his voice that sends frissons of arousal down my spine. “Ethan—”

“Don’t. Take. It. Off. Again,” he repeats, and this time there’s no mistaking the order in the low gravel of his voice.

There’s a part of me that thinks I should argue on general principle—there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s giving me an order. And yet, there doesn’t seem to be a point.

He wants me to wear the chain. I want to wear the chain. His sexy growl turns me on like few things ever have. That’s more than good enough for now. Everything else can take care of itself.





Chapter Twelve


“What is that?” I demand, staring at the huge box Ethan is carting into my apartment the following Saturday morning. He’s here early because we’re supposed to be going to the VA hospital today to visit some of the soldiers, and then on to a museum or two at Balboa Park. I thought we’d leave right after he got here, but by the look of that box, now I’m not so sure.

“It’s a Vitamix,” he says with a grin, all blinding white teeth and innocent blue eyes. “I noticed when I was here the other day that yours had gone MIA.”

“MIA. I suppose that’s one way to put it,” Tori calls from her spot on the couch.

“Stop!” I hiss at her behind Ethan’s back, but he turns at the last minute and catches me glaring at her with narrowed eyes.

“Am I missing something?” he asks, eyebrows arched.

“Just about four hundred dollars, I’d say.” Tori smirks. “Are those things insurable?”

“Umm, probably. Why?”

“No reason,” I tell him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he plops the box down on the counter, then does the same with the three Whole Foods bags he has dangling from his wrists. “Tori’s just super clumsy, so she has an obsession with insuring everything.”

My roommate chokes on her orange juice. “Yeah, that’s what did the Vitamix in. My clumsiness. Not, say, your prowess with a hammer.”