Addicted(46)

“Stop!” I shout it at him then. “Just stop. I’ve never been one to give ultimatums, Ethan, and I know you’ve never been one to follow them. But I can’t see this going any other way. If you want to be with me—”

“I do.”

“Then be with me. With me, how I am now, not how I used to be. I don’t want to talk about the rape. I don’t want to talk about Brandon. I don’t want to meet your family. I can’t handle that. Not now. Maybe not ever, but certainly, not right now.

“And I’m sorry that I’m so messed up. I’m sorry that I have all this baggage, and that if you take me on that it becomes your baggage, too. And I’m sorry that one day I might wake up and not be able to take any of this for one second longer. And that I will never be normal. You deserve normal.

“But I love you. I love you, Ethan, and I want to try to make it work. Because life without you … it isn’t good. It isn’t—”

I don’t finish because Ethan’s yanking me against him then, burying his hands in my hair and devouring my mouth with his own.

I can taste the salty remnants of tears I didn’t know he was shedding, can hear the ragged exhale of a breath I didn’t know he was holding. Fine tremors wrack his long, lean surfer’s body and his arms are locked around me like he’s never, never going to let me go.

They ground me as nothing else could have, give me tangible proof that this thing between us is as important to him as it is to me.

Brandon or no Brandon, I can’t ask for more than that.

He kisses me and kisses me and kisses me and it feels so good, so right. Like the specter of the past has been banished forever. That’s all I want, all I can ever ask for.

I wrap my arms around him then, kiss him back with every ounce of love and need and strength I have inside of me. And pray that it’s enough.

“I love you,” he tells me in between long, lingering kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I never doubted that, Chloe. If I had, I would have gone insane.”

He turns us around and then somehow we’re back on the bed. Only this time I’m lying facedown across it and Ethan is stretched out on top of me, his mouth at my neck and his hands … his hands are everywhere else.

“It’s my turn to talk,” he tells me, yanking the sheet from between us. He’s licking my spine now, long, lazy forays of his tongue that send splinters of heat racing through me.

“I’m sorry that that happened to you,” he tells me in between wet, open-mouthed kisses and gentle, sharp-toothed nibbles across my back.

“I told you—”

“No.” He puts one calloused hand over my mouth. “You don’t get to contribute right now. This is my turn.”

He takes his hand away, but the warning look in his eyes remains. He’s serious about this. I had my chance to speak, now he wants his. I press my lips together, letting the protest die away. After everything I said to him, it’s only fair that he gets a shot, too.

“I’m allowed to be sorry that the woman I love has been through hell. I’m allowed to be f*cking furious that my brother is the one who hurt you. And I’m damn sure allowed to want to make things better for you. Not because you need me—because you don’t. You’re the strongest woman I know, Chloe, and you would be just fine without me.”

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.