Ethan is the first one to tell me that it isn’t true. That I’m worth more than what his brother did to me, worth more than what his parents paid to make it all go away.
I believed him once and then that belief shattered under the weight of what I didn’t know. Of what he didn’t tell me. I walked away, not because I didn’t love him, but because I loved him too much. Because I knew that if he treated me like his brother had, if he treated me like his parents or my parents had, that I would break forever.
And here we are, weeks later. Both miserable, both in pain, both broken. And still he’s choosing me, not just over his brother, but over himself. Over his own well-being, over what he wants and needs.
If I love him, how can I do any less?
The answer is, I can’t.
My resolve breaks and with it goes the last ounce of restraint I’ve got. I reach for him, for Ethan, my arms wrapping around his neck as I twine my hands in his hair and pull his mouth down to mine.
The moment our lips meet it’s like all those jagged pieces inside of me suddenly slip back into place. Like all the tears and pain and trauma of the last two weeks just disappear.
“Chloe,” he murmurs against my lips. His hands are around my waist, his fingers stroking under my suit jacket and blouse, finding the sensitive skin of my lower back. “What are you doing?”
“It’s only been two weeks,” I tease him softly, reveling in the feel of his warm breath mingling with mine. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to do this already?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything.” He steps closer, walks me backward across the sand until I’m once again trapped between the cold, hard restaurant wall and his hot, unyielding body. But he lifts his mouth from mine, looks straight into my eyes as he says, “Including the fact that you said you couldn’t be with me. That it hurt you too much.”
I stand on my tiptoes, then wind my arms around his neck and try to pull him in for the kiss I so desperately crave. But Ethan’s got a will of iron and despite the very impressive erection I can feel pressing against my stomach, he’s not budging until I say what he needs to hear.
Most days, I would appreciate his restraint—and his obvious concern for me. But right now, all I want is for him to kiss me, to touch me, to make love to me the way he used to, like I’m the most important thing in his world.
“Yeah, well, it turns out that it hurts way more to be without you than it does to be with you.”
He closes his eyes at that, rests his forehead against mine. We’re pressed together now from head to hip and I can’t help but feel the tremor that runs through him at
my words, can’t help but feel the way his big, strong body is shaking against my own.
“Are you sure?” he asks hoarsely, his breath hot and cinnamon scented against my cheek. “You have to be sure, Chloe, because I can’t—”
“I’m sure, baby. I love you. I need you. Please—”
Before I can finish the plea, his mouth crashes down on mine, hot and hard and desperate. So desperate. He bites at my lips, thrusts his tongue into my mouth, licks at my own tongue, my teeth, the roof of my mouth.
He’s claiming me, taking me, using his lips and tongue and teeth to brand me in a way I won’t soon forget. In a way I’ll never forget.
And I let him. More, I beg him for it.
For the pleasure he gives me with each stroke of his tongue and press of his hands.
And for the peace he brings me with the strength of his body and the beauty of his soul. All around us, the wind picks up, whipping the ocean into a frenzy and sending grains of sand skittering on the breeze. It works me up, too, the cool brush of it against my skin only adding to the pleasure and the pain of being touched by Ethan again after what feels like forever.
“We should go home,” he says, without lifting his mouth from mine. “The things I want to do to you can’t be done against a dirty wall on the beach.”
“They’re going to have to be, because I can’t wait that long,” I whisper back. I shove his suit jacket off his shoulders, then tug and yank at his dress shirt until I can run my fingers along his narrow waist and flat stomach.
“Damn it, Chloe,” he growls even as he does the same to my suit, his fingers making quick work of the buttons on my blouse. “We’re in public. Anyone could walk by.”
“Then you’d better be quick,” I tell him, reaching for his belt.
“More like, you’d better be quiet,” he teases, slipping my shirt down my arms. “Because if we do this here, I’m not leaving until you come at least twice.”
“Hey, I can be quiet!” I complain, even as a heady wave of arousal skitters down my spine.
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Then he’s pushing my bra out of the way and drawing my nipple into his mouth with a suction so strong that I feel it in my knees. With a sob, I reach for him, my fingers tangling in his dress shirt in a futile effort to keep myself from crumbling into a heap at his feet.
“Relax,” he tells me, his lower body pressing me into the wall, holding me upright even as my knees buckle. “I’ve got you, baby. I won’t let you fall.”