“God. That’s half the coast. How many fires are there?”
“Seven right now, but with this wind, they think there are going to be more before too long.”
“I need to call Tori.”
“I already have. She’s fine. Her father is sending a plane for her tomorrow morning. She decided now was the perfect time to go to Vegas for a few days.”
Of course he’d checked on Tori. It’s the kind of guy Ethan is, the kind of guy he’s always been. Who his family is doesn’t change his basic decency.
“Maybe we should go to Vegas,” I joke. “I just turned twenty-one, after all.”
Ethan glances at me. “Believe me, I’ve thought about it.”
“Oh, yeah? Vacation?”
“Honeymoon. I could get you drunk and married before you knew what hit you.”
“Yeah, right,” I tell him even as my stomach gives a funny little jump. “You shouldn’t joke about that. I might take you up on it.”
“If only.” He doesn’t glance at me as he negotiates the winding street up to his house, but somehow that only makes our current conversation seem more surreal.
“Stop teasing,” I tell him as he finally pulls the car into the driveway.
He jerks the car to a stop and then he reaches for me, pulling me out of my seat and onto his lap in one swift movement. It’s a small space and the steering wheel is cutting into my back but I barely notice it. How can I when Ethan is all but devouring me with his eyes.
“What makes you think, even for a second, that I’m joking? I would marry you tomorrow if you’d agree. Vegas. A justice of the peace. An impromptu beach wedding in Tahiti. I don’t actually give a shit. I love you, Chloe, and the second you are ready to marry me, I promise we’ll get it done.”
His mouth crashes down on mine then, and I’m so out of it—so completely astonished—that I can’t do anything but sit there clinging to him as he ravishes me.
His mouth is everywhere, his hands everywhere, and I don’t know what to think, what to say. All I can do is feel. And I do, God, I do.
I feel the press of his lips against my collarbone as his tongue dances lightly over the pulse point in my neck.
I feel the rough caress of his hands as they slide under my tank top to stroke their way over my ribs, up my spine.
I feel the hard thrust of his cock against my sex, my clit, as he rocks against me in a slow, gentle rhythm that brings me right to the brink of orgasm.
“I want to wake up with you in my arms every morning,” he murmurs as he nips softly at my throat. “I want to hold you when you cry, to taste your joy when you laugh.
“I want to shelter you, to hold you so deeply inside me that no one will ever hurt you again.” His hands move around to my front, and his thumbs hook around my belly chain, tug lightly at the platinum links. It’s a reminder that he’s already claimed me, already branded me.
“I want to love you, Chloe. I just want to love you.”
His words take me higher, stoking the flames inside of me until all I can feel, all I can see, all I can breathe is him.
“I know you’re young. I know you’re not ready to talk about forever with me—especially with everything that’s happened—but I want you to know that that’s where we’re headed. That’s what I want from you. That’s what I want to give to you.” It’s what I want, too. What I’ve wanted since he made love to me so tenderly, so honestly, after I told him about the rape. What I’ve felt from the moment he slid this belly chain around my waist and claimed me so completely. It’s why our breakup devastated me so completely, why it ripped my heart out and left me a trembling, self-destructive mess. Why what I feel for him is so much more than need, so much more than addiction.
“Ethan, I—” There’s so much I want to say to him, so much I want him to know about how I feel and what I want, but the words are stuck in my throat. They’re stuck deep inside of me, and I can’t force them out.
I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m not committed. It’s not like I don’t love him. I do, God, I do. It’s only … what? I don’t know. I spent that whole run trying to figure it out and I’m no closer to knowing now than I was when I took off, hours ago.
All I know is that finding out about Brandon broke something inside of me. Seeing Ethan standing next to him, laughing and joking and celebrating with him, cracked me wide open and ripped me apart all over again. It destroyed something I’m not sure can ever be put back together again.
And I know, Ethan didn’t know. I believe him when he says that fund-raiser took place before he realized who Brandon was to me. And it should matter—it does matter—and yet there’s this lump of ice inside of me that I’m terrified will never melt. It’s like this is just one thing too many. One kick too many. One strike too many.
One betrayal too many.
Of all the men out there in the world, I had to fall in love with this one.