Ruined (Ethan Frost 1)

“I bet. I’m exhausted just looking at you. ” She pouts. “But tomorrow I want every single detail, no matter how small and insignificant. ”

I roll my eyes. “We need to get you a boyfriend. ”

“You are preaching to the choir, baby. Maybe you can check and see if your gorgeous, sexy man has a clone somewhere. ”

“Nope, sorry. I’m not sharing. ”

She laughs. “You didn’t even pretend to consider it. ”

“No, I didn’t. Ethan Frost is all mine. ”

“Does he know that?”

I think of the way he held me as I cried. The way he patiently, determinedly claimed every part of my body for his own. The way he growled that he was never letting me go—and how I told him that went both ways. “Damn straight,” he told me right before he drove me to another explosive orgasm. Thank God.

“He does,” I say to her, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before I walk toward my room.

“Ew,” she says, pretending to wipe my kiss off. “Careful! Who knows where that mouth has been!”

It’s my turn to laugh as she intends me to. “I know exactly where it’s been. ” I pause for dramatic effect. “Everywhere. ”

She groans, then reaches for the bottle of wine and pours herself another glass. I don’t want to fight, so I pretend not to see that the thing is more than 75 percent empty. Which means that before I got here, Tori was doing nothing but sitting alone in the living room and drinking. Something she seems to be doing more and more of lately.

I’m going to have to find a way to talk to her about it, one that won’t make her shut down, as she is wont to do in situations where she doesn’t like what she’s hearing. I know we’re college students, I know it’s summer. But she can’t go through a bottle and a half of wine or more every night and think that she’s doing okay. Because she’s not.

Tomorrow, I tell myself as I make my way down to my room. Or maybe Tuesday, during movie night, when she’s relaxed and the conversation is not so fixated on my new and exciting sex life. I don’t want to give her a chance for any ammunition.

“By the way,” she calls down the hall after me. “Your mother called a few times. She says it’s important. ”

“Thanks. ”

I get to my room to find three sticky notes on my door, each with the time my mother called and exactly what she said when Tori answered. My best friend is nothing if not an excellent message taker.

I rip them off the door, toss them into the trash can under my desk. Whatever she wants can wait. I have better things to do with my time tonight than worry about her. Especially when there’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to climb into bed and go over every delicious thing Ethan did to my body today.

Processing, I tell myself as I strip down and climb into my pajamas, my fingers lingering for long seconds on the belly chain that fits like it was made for me. I did say that I needed to process, after all…

* * *

I get to work early on Monday morning so I can run by Ethan’s office to see him. And to drop off the blender.

His assistant ushers me right into his office, his eyes on the blender the entire time. I don’t know if that’s because he’s fascinated by the endless possibilities presented by the Vitamix, or if it’s because I missed a hickey in the great love bite cover-up that took the better half of my morning and he’s desperate not to focus on it.

Either way, I figure it’s not going to take much for the rest of the company to start talking about us. Strangely, I find that possibility much less concerning now than I did even a couple of days ago.

That old song about the difference a day makes is right on…or maybe it’s just that my perception has changed. Either way, I’m not going to let worry over that color these few stolen moments with Ethan.

He’s on the phone when I walk in, but he immediately smiles when he sees me. At least until he notices the blender I’m carrying.

“I’ve got to go,” he tells the person on the other end of the line. “Something’s come up. ”

Then he’s walking around the desk to get to me, everything about him just a little more predatory than I remember from yesterday.

“Hello, Ms. Girard,” he says as he shuts the door.

“Hello, Mr. Frost. ”

He takes the heavy blender from me, drops it on the corner of his desk. “I thought we took care of the whole present thing yesterday. ”