He shrugged and whispered, “I think I died a little tonight.”
So much for him opening up and sharing. He wasn’t up for any more delving into his past. I could tell. “What do you mean you died a little?”
“When I couldn’t find you after that message came in on your mobile.” He traced my cheek and then my lips with his finger—just the lightest touch, and I felt a shiver roll through me.
“Well, you did find me eventually, and no dying allowed, mister. That would be a real major buzzkill.” I tried to tease him into a lighter mood, but it didn’t seem to be working. When Ethan was in a serious frame of mind, he didn’t just switch out of it easily.
“I’m glad you feel better,” he paused and thrust his hips with a renewed erection, sinking in deep, “because I needed this with you, badly.”
“I’m here and you have me,” I murmured against his lips as he draped my legs over his shoulders and took charge of another round of pleasure. Once was rarely enough for him.
Ethan made me feel desirable. He made me feel beautiful and sexy, from the words that came out of his mouth to the touch of his body in mine when he made love to me. And afterward, when he held me against him like I was precious.
Somebody wanted me, despite all that had gone down in my past. Someone was willing to fight for me. I was important to another person. To Ethan I was. The power in that knowledge was life-changing.
Ethan’s particular brand of attention was intense and a lot to accept at first, but it worked for me. Ethan worked for me. He could show me how much he wanted me, and for the first time I had some hope that we could really make this relationship work. The “let’s go slow” part hadn’t happened at all like we’d agreed when we first met. But if we had gone slowly, I very much doubt I’d be naked in bed with him at the Somerset coast, in an English manor fit for a king, which happened to be owned by his sister, and being fucked to the brink of another magnificent orgasm right now. A girl has to take things as they come.
It took a bit for me to rouse myself after the second round of sheet-clawing sex, but I managed to wriggle out of his hold to head for the bathroom so I could clean up and prepare for sleep. I loved how he touched me all the time. I needed it, plain and simple, and Ethan knew that. It was just another way in which we were emotionally compatible.
I filled a glass of water and took the pill Dr. Roswell had prescribed for my night terrors. I had a routine. Birth control and vitamins in the morning, sleeping pill at night, once I was ready to actually sleep. I smirked into the elegant bathroom mirror that looked like something out of Buckingham Palace, realizing that bed and sleep were never synonymous when sharing with Ethan. We spent a great deal of time together in bed not sleeping, but I wasn’t complaining.
I didn’t expect to find him awake when I came out of the bathroom, but his eyes were open, tracking my every movement as I settled back into bed. He reached for me and held my face, something he did often when we were close like this.
“How come you’re still awake? You must be exhausted after that long drive,” I paused for emphasis, “and all that superb shagging—”
“I love you and I never want to let you go,” he interrupted.
“So don’t.” I looked into his blue eyes, which seared me in the dim light.
“I never will.” He said it with some hardness and I felt that he really meant it.
“I love you too, and I’m not going anywhere.” I leaned in to kiss his lips, the rasp of his beard stubble well familiar to me now. He kissed me back, but I could tell he had more to say and could feel the edge in him, which was surprising considering the orgasms he’d just pounded into me.
“The thing is I—I need something more permanent with us. I need you with me all the time so I can protect you and we can be together every day . . . and night.”
I felt my heart begin to thud rapidly, whispers of panic taking hold. Just when I got comfortable with one aspect of us, Ethan pushed for more.
He’s always been that way . . .
“But we are together every day now,” I told him.
He furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes a fraction. “It’s not enough, Brynne. Not after what happened tonight and that fucked-up message from God knows whom. I have Neil working on your mobile trace right now and we’ll get to the bottom of it, but I need something more formal that tells the world you are off limits and untouchable by whatever designs they might have on you.”
I swallowed hard, feeling his thumbs start to move over my jaw as I tried to imagine where he was going with this. “What do you mean when you say ‘formal’? How formal are we talking?” Man, my voice was thready, and my heart felt like it would leap out of my chest the next moment.
He smiled at me and leaned in for a soft, slow kiss that calmed me some. Ethan had always calmed me, though. If I was unsettled or scared, he had a way of comforting me and easing the stress of the moment. “Ethan?” I asked when he finally pulled back.
“It’s okay, baby,” he said soothingly, “everything will be all right and I’ll take care of you, but I know what we need to do—what needs to happen.”
“You do?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He rolled us over and held my face again, propped on his elbows and trapping me beneath his sculpted limbs, hard and smooth against my softer parts. “I’m sure of it, in fact.” His lips dropped to my neck and kissed up to my ear and then down my jaw, over my throat, and back to the other ear. “Very, very sure,” he whispered between gentle kisses. “I realized it tonight as soon as we got here and I saw that you were wearing this.” He kissed the spot where the amethyst pendant he’d given me lay in the hollow of my throat.
“What are you so sure about?” My voice was faint, but every word rang out clear as a bell in the short distance between us, as if I’d shouted my question.
“Do you trust me, Brynne?”
“Yes.”