Ruined (Ethan Frost 1)

For the first time in a long time, I’m starting to wonder if that’s enough. Or if maybe I should want more.

I look down at the sand castle Ethan has helped me build, at our fingers that keep tangling together, sliding against one another. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to pull back. To stand up and walk away before I get in over my head.

But it’s too late. It’s been too late from the moment he slid that smoothie across the juice bar to me, only I’ve been too stupid to realize it.

I look up, find him staring at me with an intensity that belies his casual clothes and surfer-boy demeanor, his charming smile and smooth moves. It’s an intensity that reaches to the very heart of me—into my soul, into my sex—and for the first time I realize the true enigma that is Ethan Frost.

“Let me take you out tomorrow night. ”

It’s more a statement than a question, more an order than a request, and normally it would rub me very wrong. But in those moments, caught in Ethan’s eyes and his spell, I can do nothing but nod. Do nothing but surrender and hope the ride is worth the inevitable fall.

Chapter Eleven

Ethan builds me a sand castle worthy of an architect—or a genius. It’s not the biggest on the beach, but it is the most elegant. The best-made. And he does it with nothing more than a bucket and his hands.

When it’s finally done, when my six-turret palace complete with drawbridge and moat is standing tall and proud I take a few long moments to admire it. To wonder what it would be like to live in such a perfect, well-thought-out place. Then I think of the huge, beautiful monstrosity that my parents live in, and I remember for the millionth time that perfection is only ever skin deep.

The thought has my stomach clenching, and I look across at Ethan, who is busy watching me admire his creation. He’s perfect, or as close to perfect as I’ve ever seen. Brilliant, funny, gorgeous, philanthropic, kind. Or at least that’s how he appears on the surface. I wonder what’s underneath and if I’ll ever get the chance to see it.

Just as I’m deciding that I’ve had enough of the deep philosophy, my stomach growls. Ethan laughs as he climbs to his feet, then holds out a hand to help me to mine. I can get up just fine on my own, but I take his hand anyway. Let him pull me up.

Trust has to start somewhere.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks, and I’m acutely aware of the way he bends his neck so his mouth is inches from my cheek. I’m also aware of his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the throngs of partiers and sand-castle enthusiasts. There are hundreds of people down here and this area of the beach isn’t that big, but somehow he manages to ensure that no one gets too close, that no one touches me.

It’s a relief, the way he instinctively seems to know what I need. Later, when I’m home, it may freak me out. But here, now, surrounded by these crowds—and by the heat and strength of Ethan—I feel protected, safe. It’s not a feeling I have often, so I can’t help but savor it.

“Chloe?” he prompts, and I realize I never answered him.

“My roommate was going to get us some carne asada tacos. ” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “You’re welcome to join us. ”

“I’d like that, if she doesn’t mind. ”

“A

re you kidding? She’ll be thrilled. Tori loves gorgeous men. ”

“So, you think I’m gorgeous?” he asks with a wicked grin.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t fish for compliments. It’s so unbecoming, especially when you know exactly how devastatingly hot you are. ”

“I was beginning to think I’d lost my touch. Trying to get your attention has been…challenging. ”

“Yeah, well, don’t get ahead of yourself just yet. I agreed to go to dinner, not have sex with you. ”

He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t remember asking for sex. ”

“You will. ”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you know that?”

I turn my head so our gazes meet and for a second I forget my train of thought. Hell, I forget how to breathe, let alone how to make words.

But I can see the gleam of triumph deep in his eyes, can see the hint of a smirk on his lips, just waiting to form. And suddenly I’m determined to not let him get the best of me. I reach up, pat his cheek. “Because they all do, darling,” I tell him in the best femme fatale voice I can muster. Maybe it’s foolish, maybe it’s arrogant, but I don’t want him to know just how messed up I am. How our date tomorrow night will be the first one I’ve gone on in a long, long time.

He stiffens at the challenge in my words, in my eyes, but it’s not an insulted movement. Not a threatening one. No, it’s more like the movement of a large jungle cat moments after it’s scented its prey. A stretching, an awakening, just a hint of danger as awareness prickles in the air all around us.

I wait, breath held, for him to say something else. Do something else. But in the end, he just laughs. I laugh, too, and somehow it doesn’t shatter the tension between us like most moments of amusement would. No, it only fans the flames, only ratchets up the attraction and the energy between us.