Addicted(72)

Ethan comes then, too, calling my name as his powerful body spills and spills and spills inside of me.

I keep coming and so does he, for long, interminable seconds that tie us together like nothing else ever has.

And when it’s over, when he’s emptied himself so completely into me that he can barely lift his head from where it rests between my shoulder blades, I know the truth.

That he has wrecked me, just as surely as he’s wrecked himself. And in doing so, he’s filled me up completely. With his love, with himself, with everything I never knew I needed. And I’ll love him for it forever.





Chapter Eighteen


My alarm goes off at six-thirty, barely an hour after Ethan and I finally stumbled into the house and down the hall to bed. I groan as I reach for my phone to shut it off, telling myself as I do that I shouldn’t throw the stupid thing across the room. After all, it isn’t my phone’s fault that I’m a total idiot.

It’s a close call, though, and might have ended badly except Ethan fumbles it out of my hand and drops it gently to the floor before pulling me into him, my back to his chest.

“We have to get up.” I groan, the idea of actually prying my eyes open leaves me feeling sick and dizzy. I’m exhausted, not to mention sore as hell from my blind flight down the beach last night. A flight that seems stupid in light of how it all ended up, with Ethan and me joined so closely that for long moments I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. “I have a meeting today. And you probably have to buy a small country.”

“Two small countries, actually,” he says, pressing soft, warm kisses against my shoulder. “But alas, Frost Industries is closed because of the fires, so there will be no takeovers today.”

“Closed?” I ask him, somehow finding the strength to both open my eyes and turn my head so that I can see his face. “Are you just screwing with me?” I demand. “As punishment for what happened last night?”

He licks his way slowly down my spinal cord. “I thought I’d already exacted revenge for you running away last night. Remember, on the porch, when you went a little crazy? But if you’d like me to try again …” He rolls us over so that I’m facedown against the bed and he’s on top of me, all long, lean, powerful muscles. “I’m sure I can be persuaded.”

I arch my back a little, rub my naked ass against his already very aroused cock. He groans a little even as he slides an arm under me to cant my hips up higher. And then he’s sliding against me, sliding into me, with long, lazy strokes that have my breath catching in my throat.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Chloe,” he murmurs against my ear as his thumb moves to circle my clit.

“Me? I was just lying here minding my own business when—” I break off, gasping, as his cock nudges against my G-spot.

“Like that, huh?” he asks, rolling his hips so that he hits it again and then again.

“What’s not … what’s not to like?” I squirm against him a little, trying to get my arm out from under me, and he groans.

“Fuck, baby. Do that again.”

So I do, wiggling even as I tighten my internal muscles so that I’m clamping down around him.

“Fuck,” he says again, in a voice gone low and dark.

The sound of his arousal stokes my own and in an instant our early-morning lovemaking session goes from lazy to urgent. Heat slams through me and I reach back, dig my nails into his ass as I pull him into me.

Ethan growls at the quick prick of pain, and then he’s rocking into me so hard that the headboard slams against the wall.

It’s quick and intense and powerful, so powerful. We’ve never done it like this before with Ethan completely on top of me, covering every inch of me with his strong, muscular body. I don’t know why we haven’t, except that he’s always been very careful not to put me in a position where I feel helpless, overwhelmed. Where I feel powerless.




But this, this isn’t about being powerless.

Yes, I’m trapped beneath him. Yes, he’s definitely controlling the fast, hard rhythm of our lovemaking. And still, I’ve never felt more powerful.

How could I not when Ethan is murmuring wicked, dirty things in my ear? When he’s making low, desperate sounds in the back of his throat? When he’s making love to me like I’m the most important person in his world.

“Chloe, f*ck, baby. I’m so close. I’m so—”