Addicted (Ethan Frost 2)

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.” I reach over and snatch a strawberry, biting it all the way down to the stem. “And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, yeah? What am I supposedly doing?” He’s cleaning a pineapple now, slicing off the thick, spiky skin before cutting the fruit into cubes.

“Picking on my car to distract me from the fact that the cost of this chain is completely insane.”

“Give the guy a break,” Tori tells me from behind the fashion magazine her head has been stuck in for most of the last half an hour. “You had to know it was expensive. It came in a Tiffany’s box, for God’s sake. You can barely get a piece of glass there for under a thousand dollars, let alone what has to be easily five carats in diamonds.”

“Eight,” Ethan interjects as he chops up a couple of bananas and dumps them in the blender.

“Nice. Eight carats definitely makes a statement.”

“What statement?” I demand, my voice still much too shrill. “What statement could eight carats possibly make? Besides that the person who bought it has way too much money?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it says taken,” Tori tells me with an eye roll. “Not to mention I-have-more-money-than-you-and-if-you-touch-her-I’ll-wipe-you-off-the-face-of-the-earth.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Actually, that’s exactly the vibe I was going for.” Ethan’s grinning widely, blue eyes sparkling and his cheeks creasing in that way they do when he’s deeply amused by something. “Nice job articulating it, Tori.”

“Yes, well, I am fluent in caveman speak. Which is good for you—think of how many misunderstandings it saves.”

I watch in openmouthed shock as Ethan nods like she’s making sense instead of just babbling nonsense. “Another good point.”

“I’m just full of them today.” She takes another bite of her apple.

“Not to break up the mutual admiration society you two have going on right now, but less than a week ago weren’t you the one telling me how much you had always hated Ethan?”

“I was. But that was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before he brought me apples, obviously.”

“Really? That’s your price? Apples?”

Tori shrugs. “I never said I wasn’t cheap.”

She says it like it’s a joke, but the words hang there between us anyway. Though Tori never talks about her family except in very superficial terms, I’ve gleaned enough in the last three years to know she means what she just said more than she’ll ever let on—which makes me crazy because there’s a lot more to my best friend than she lets people see. A lot more to her than she’s willing to acknowledge even to herself.

I want to say something to her about it, but I know from bitter experience that she won’t take kindly to me “not being able to take a joke.” So I bite my lip to force myself not to say anything, and risk a quick glance at Ethan. He’s looking between Tori and me speculatively and I know that he’s picked up on the undercurrent of angst that she’s throwing out. Or maybe he’s just picking up on how similar the two of us are on the inside. Our outsides don’t match, but our souls have recognized each other from the very beginning.

Ethan quirks a brow at me, but I just shake my head. Now’s not the time to get into it—Tori would never forgive me if I blindsided her in front of him. Hell, she probably wouldn’t forgive me if I sat down with her on my own and tried to have a heart-to-heart. But adding Ethan, or anyone else, in the mix is a surefire recipe for disaster.

I try to let it go, but I must look more upset than I think because suddenly Ethan’s hands are around my waist, tugging at the belly chain to ground me even as his fingers rub soothing circles into the sensitive skin of my lower back.

It works. His touch settles me like nothing else ever has. But it also reminds me of what started this whole conversation to begin with. “Ethan, you can’t give me a forty thousand dollar piece of jewelry,” I tell him, both exasperated and overwhelmed.

“Too late. I already did.”

“Yes, but—”

“Chloe.” He pulls me toward him, drops a slow, lingering kiss on my mouth. “Why are we arguing here?”

“We’re arguing because of the exorbitant amount of money you spent on my belly chain.”

“Yes, but, why? It’s already a done deal—I’ve already bought it, you’re already wearing it. And as we’ve already established, you’re not taking it off, so it seems pointless to argue. Besides—and I don’t normally bring this up because I know how you feel about it, but—I’ve got money, Chloe. Forty grand isn’t going to put me in the poorhouse.” He leans over and whispers the rest in my ear. “And even if it did, it would be absolutely worth it just for the chance to see you stretched across my bed wearing nothing but this.”

He kisses me then, soft and sweet and perfect. I melt before I can stop myself, not forgetting about my angst over the belly chain but tabling it because I can tell from the determined set of Ethan’s jaw that this is one fight I’m not going to win. And though my insecurities are shouting at me not to take the stupid chain, I know that the meaning my past is trying to attach to it—the idea that Ethan is buying and paying for me—is in my head, not reality.