Addicted(33)

“The bastard.”

“It’s fine. He didn’t do anything. He just brought me a glass of champagne and—”

“Champagne? Did you drink it?”

“Seriously? Do I look like a total idiot to you?”

“No, of course not. I’m sorry. I just worry about you. Guys like that—”

“Believe me, Ethan, I know all about guys like that. Opportunistic *s with a sense of entitlement a mile wide. We’ve had our run-ins before.”

It was a low blow and he flinches, just like I knew he would. He doesn’t let go of my arm, though, and he doesn’t step back to let me pass.

I know I should push him away, but he’s so warm and his touch feels so good. It’s only been two weeks since we were together, but it feels like two years. Like two decades. And though I know I’m playing with fire, I can’t help wanting to melt into him, to feel his body pressed against my own one more time.

“I’m sorry about what Brandon did to you, Chloe. I’m so f*cking sorry. I’d kill him if I could. I almost did that first night, after I found out. I wrapped my hands around his throat and didn’t let go until—” He breaks off at my gasp, shoves a frustrated hand through his hair.

“That isn’t what I wanted.” I hate Brandon, have spent years thinking about exacting revenge on him for what he did to me. But that doesn’t mean I want Ethan falling victim to that same hatred, that same self-destructive need, especially when Brandon is his little brother.

“Don’t you dare f*cking apologize to me, Chloe. Don’t you f*cking dare,” he tells me, and now he’s got my back pressed against the restaurant’s wall, his arms on either side of me. He’s caging me in, blanketing me, and if any other man tried it I’d be going for his eyes or his balls. But with Ethan it feels good, feels right, like we were meant to be like this.

I close my eyes for just a moment at the thought, rest the back of my head against the building. Because whether we were meant to be like this or not, we can’t be. Not now, not ever again.

“Chloe.” It’s a whisper, a plea, maybe even a command considering how my body responds to him. Heart racing, nipples peaking, thighs aching.

“Ethan.”

He leans forward and I know he’s going to kiss me. I can see it in his eyes, feel it in the sudden tension sweeping through him. And I want him to. I really want him to. Except … except there’s so much shit between us and if I kiss him now everything will just come rushing back. Come tumbling down.

I’m not sure where I get the strength from, but I bring my hand to his face. Press two fingers against his lips.

This time, Ethan’s the one who closes his eyes, and though he tries to hide it I can see the pain etched on his face as he turns his head away and rests his forehead on the wall next to me. He takes one deep, shuddering breath and then another and another, before straightening up. Stepping away.

“Tell me the truth,” he says after a few seconds of awkward silence. “Why were you ducking out of the party?”




I laugh then, and it’s more bitter than I intend it to be. At least until I realize he wasn’t joking. He really doesn’t know why I had to leave. “I couldn’t stay,” I tell him once I can get the words past the lump in my throat. “You may be used to this, but I’m not. I’m not any good at it.”

“Good at what?” he asks, looking totally confused.

I turn my face away, refuse to answer. I’ve already humiliated myself enough tonight, thank you very much, especially considering I just finished all but whimpering in his arms.

“Chloe? Answer me. What aren’t you good at?”

I shake my head, whisper, “Nothing.”

But my non-answer isn’t good enough for Ethan. He grabs my hands, squeezes them tightly. When that isn’t enough to get me talking, he slides his hands slowly, softly, up my forearms to my elbows, past my elbows to my biceps, past my biceps to my shoulders. His fingers brush against the sensitive skin that stretches across my collarbone and then his fingertips are skimming up my throat to my chin.

“Ethan.” His name is a strangled sigh ripped from deep inside me.

He smiles softly at the sound, brushes his thumb over my lips even as he slides his hands up to cup my jaw. And then he’s slipping his thumbs under my chin, pushing gently but insistently until I lift my face to his.

Our eyes meet in the shadowy darkness and it’s my turn to flinch a little. Though I’m fully dressed, I feel naked. Defenseless. Like Ethan can see deep inside me to the parts of myself I’m trying so desperately to hold away from him. The parts I’m trying so desperately to keep just for me.