Exposed (Ethan Frost 3)

I want to stay like this forever.

But need is an urgent thrum in my blood, screaming at me to move, to take, to give. Chloe must feel the same way because she’s started rocking against me, her sweet, lush body sliding over my cock again and again and again.

I press my mouth to hers, whisper against her lips, “This is going to be fast.”

“Thank God.” She clenches around me again.

How she can make me laugh when I’m strung out in an agony of desire, I don’t know. It’s just part of the glorious mystery that is my wife.

I slip a hand between us, stroke my thumb in a circle over her clit. Once, twice, then again and again until she’s moaning, shuddering. She braces her hands on my shoulders and then, head back, eyes closed, she starts lifting and lowering herself on me in a rhythm that makes my eyes cross and my dick throb for relief.

My hands clutch her hips, urge her to move faster, to take me deeper. To give me everything that she has, everything that she is. Chloe’s whimpering now, a breathless, sexy noise that takes me right to the edge.

“I love you,” she gasps, as her eyes open and find mine. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

The words have become her own mantra and they light me up from the inside as she repeats them again and again and again. They also send me careening over the cliff of my own restraint, send me hurtling into an orgasm so intense that for long seconds I can’t see, can’t hear, can’t breathe.

All I know is that Chloe is with me, her beautiful body clenching at mine as she wails my name.

Through it all, one thought repeats again and again and again. Chloe is mine, forever.

Chapter 9

By the time the car stops in front of the Atlantis, Chloe and I have managed to put ourselves back together. Okay, that might be a little bit of an overstatement—she looks like she spent the last half an hour getting fucked six ways from Sunday and I’m pretty damn sure I look the same. But at least her dress is down and my pants are zipped—at this point, I figure that’s all anyone can ask for.

The second Geoffrey opens the door, we scramble out like a couple of kids. His eyes widen a little when he gets a look at us, but then he averts his face from my wife and his countenance falls back into its normally inscrutable lines. I make a note to tip him even more generously than I usually do. God knows, the kid has earned it this trip.

“Will you be needing me any more tonight, Mr. Frost?” he asks as he closes the car door behind us.

It’s my turn to smirk at him. “No, I don’t think my wife and I will be going anywhere else this evening. But thank you for everything today.”

“It’s my pleasure, sir. Congratulations again on getting married. You, too, Mrs. Frost.” He keeps his eyes straight ahead, even as he addresses her. Something I appreciate, considering the fact that my wife looks even sexier than she usually does.

Chloe gasps, and I reach for her, thinking she’s tripped in those ridiculous shoes of hers. But she hasn’t. Instead, she’s standing there, beaming at the both of us.

“What’s up?” I ask, bending down to brush yet another kiss against her swollen, upturned lips.

“He called me Mrs. Frost.” She kisses me back, then grins hugely at Geoffrey, who appears a little dazzled as her eyes meet his. I don’t blame the kid—I’ve felt the same way from the moment she refused to drink that blueberry smoothie. “You’re the first person, ever, to call me Mrs. Frost, Geoffrey. Thank you.”

He grins back at her. “You’re welcome. But I’m sure I won’t be the last.”

If possible, her smile gets even bigger. “Definitely not.” Impulsively, she leans forward and hugs him.

He stiffens for a second, looks at me in shock. I just shrug. Chloe might be rich now, but she’ll never be like the wealthy women he’s used to. It’s one of the many things I love about her.

“Good night,” she tells him as she steps back.

“Good night, Mrs. Frost.” This time we’re all three smiling as he says the words that make my wife so happy.

As we make our way up to our room, I’m tempted to take out my phone and check the media outlets, see if anything has hit yet about Chloe’s and my wedding. But I’ve got my best publicity people on it—I trust Stu and his team to handle it. Besides, right now I’ve got much better things to do than worry about the press. Things that involve peeling my wife out of her dress and laying her out on the bed so that I can kiss every single inch of her glorious body—twice.

But when we get to our suite, she brushes a kiss across my lips and whispers, “I’ve g

ot a surprise for you,” right before she disappears into the bathroom.

I can’t help being intrigued. Chloe’s never been the lingerie type—which is fine with me as I prefer her naked anyway. Still, knowing that her wild-and-crazy best friend helped her pick out whatever she’s going to be wearing…I’d be a fool if I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her all dressed up. Or dressed down, as the case may be.

As she changes, I walk over to the electric fireplace and turn it on. It’s the most intimate seating area in the suite, with only a small loveseat facing it, with a chair on either side. Room service has moved one of the chairs to the side, and replaced it with a white-clothed table sporting a bottle of iced champagne, a plate of chocolate strawberries and a bouquet of bloodred roses.