Addicted (Ethan Frost 2)

“You okay, Chloe?” he asks, one eyebrow raised as he looks back and forth between us.

“I’m fine, Ethan. Thank you.” Still, I take another step away from Jace. Not because I’m afraid of him—he’s arrogant and insulting but I don’t actually think he’s dangerous—but because I’m concerned my close proximity to him might be hazardous to his health. Especially with Ethan prowling toward us like some kind of avenging angel.

“Shouldn’t you be inside, Mackenzie?” he asks in a voice so low and reasonable that it’s a threat all on its own. “I think your boss is looking for you. Something about your love of free caviar, I believe.”

Jace’s cheeks burn a little at the implied insult in Ethan’s tone. But when he opens his mouth to respond, a narrow-eyed look from Ethan sends him scurrying back toward the party without another sound. He’s moving so fast that the door slams shut behind him.

For long seconds we just stand there, looking at each other. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t so much as smile at me, and I grow more and more anxious as time ticks by.

“I should go in, too,” I finally say, moving to step around Ethan. A glance over his shoulder tells me most of the room’s occupants are watching us.

“Don’t go,” he tells me, reaching out to grab my elbow in his warm, strong fingers.

They’re the first words he’s said to me all day and I have to admit, they’re doozies, especially since he’s pulled out that dark, gravelly voice I love so much.

I take a deep breath, try to force air into my suddenly too-tight lungs. It isn’t easy, not with Ethan watching me like a jungle cat watches its prey. “The party,” I tell him. “You should be in there—”

“Fuck the party!” he snarls, and his grip tightens on my elbow. “What the fuck were you doing out here with Jace Mackenzie?”

“Excuse me?” I demand as shock ricochets through me. Ethan has never spoken to me like that. Never.

“You heard me.” He uses his grip on my elbow to propel me around the corner and into the shadows, away from prying eyes. “Why would you come out here with him? The guy’s a self-important asshole.”

“I didn’t come out here with him. I came out to get away from the party and he followed me—”

“The bastard.”

“It’s fine. He didn’t do anything. He just brought me a glass of champagne and—”

“Champagne? Did you drink it?”

“Seriously? Do I look like a total idiot to you?”

“No, of course not. I’m sorry. I just worry about you. Guys like that—”

“Believe me, Ethan, I know all about guys like that. Opportunistic assholes with a sense of entitlement a mile wide. We’ve had our run-ins before.”

It was a low blow and he flinches, just like I knew he would. He doesn’t let go of my arm, though, and he doesn’t step back to let me pass.

I know I should push him away, but he’s so warm and his touch feels so good. It’s only been two weeks since we were together, but it feels like two years. Like two decades. And though I know I’m playing with fire, I can’t help wanting to melt into him, to feel his body pressed against my own one more time.

“I’m sorry about what Brandon did to you, Chloe. I’m so fucking sorry. I’d kill him if I could. I almost did that first night, after I found out. I wrapped my hands around his throat and didn’t let go until—” He breaks off at my gasp, shoves a frustrated hand through his hair.

“That isn’t what I wanted.” I hate Brandon, have spent years thinking about exacting revenge on him for what he did to me. But that doesn’t mean I want Ethan falling victim to that same hatred, that same self-destructive need, especially when Brandon is his little brother.

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize to me, Chloe. Don’t you fucking dare,” he tells me, and now he’s got my back pressed against the restaurant’s wall, his arms on either side of me. He’s caging me in, blanketing me, and if any other man tried it I’d be going for his eyes or his balls. But with Ethan it feels good, feels right, like we were meant to be like this.

I close my eyes for just a moment at the thought, rest the back of my head against the building. Because whether we were meant to be like this or not, we can’t be. Not now, not ever again.

“Chloe.” It’s a whisper, a plea, maybe even a command considering how my body responds to him. Heart racing, nipples peaking, thighs aching.

“Ethan.”

He leans forward and I know he’s going to kiss me. I can see it in his eyes, feel it in the sudden tension sweeping through him. And I want him to. I really want him to. Except … except there’s so much shit between us and if I kiss him now everything will just come rushing back. Come tumbling down.

I’m not sure where I get the strength from, but I bring my hand to his face. Press two fingers against his lips.

This time, Ethan’s the one who closes his eyes, and though he tries to hide it I can see the pain etched on his face as he turns his head away and rests his forehead on the wall next to me. He takes one deep, shuddering breath and then another and another, before straightening up. Stepping away.