Addicted (Ethan Frost 2)
“I already told you that I’d marry you eventually.”
He grins. “Then let me rephrase that. Marry me today.”
“Today? We haven’t even known each other two months yet!”
“So? Are you planning on changing your mind?”
“Of course not!”
“Then why does it matter if we get married today or next year?”
He’s grinning but I can see the insecurity peeking through, and suddenly I can’t think of a reason in the world that we should wait another day, let alone another year. I reach into the jewelry box and pull out the bracelet under Ethan’s watchful eye.
I unclasp it, then stretch it out in front of him. “You know what this means to me, right?”
He looks at it, swallows tightly. “I know exactly what it means.” He holds his hand out and we both watch, silent and solemn, as I fasten the bracelet around his wrist.
When it’s done, I pull his mouth down to mine and kiss him, hard. “You’re mine,” I tell him.
He wraps a hand around my waist, his fingers burrowing under my clothes to stroke the platinum links of the belly chain. Links that match those of his bracelet exactly. “I always was, Chloe. I always will be.”
It’s exactly the right answer. But then again, this is Ethan Frost. He always has the right answers—except, of course, when he doesn’t. But I’m okay with that. More than okay. Because he’s mine and I’m his and everything else can take care of itself.
Suddenly, his idea doesn’t seem like such a bad one, after all. “You know, Vegas is only an hour plane ride away,” I tell him. “Do you think you can find us tickets on such short notice?”
Ethan’s mouth drops open and for long seconds he just stares at me. And then he smiles, so wide that I swear I can see forever. “Maybe, maybe not. But I know where I can find us a helicopter.”
Epilogue
At this moment, she truly is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something considering how many times I’ve thought that very same thing.
We’re at my vineyard in Tuscany, where the grapevines go on as far as the eye can see.
Where the sky turns burnished orange and gold and red in the early evenings.
Where there is beauty—rich, powerful, unforgettable beauty—in every inch of land, in every particle of air.
And still Chloe Girard Frost is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
At this moment, she’s standing barefoot in the middle of an old-fashioned grape press, head down, long blond hair blowing in the wind, skirt tucked between her thighs. Her feet are dyed a deep maroon as she stomps, stomps, stomps at the grapes and her hands are curved over her gently rounded belly.
One of the vintner’s says something to her and she throws her head back and laughs and laughs and laughs. It’s a gorgeous sound. A magical one. And one that I will never take for granted.
It’s been a year since she walked into my life, a year since she turned it upside down and inside out. A year since she burrowed inside of me, laid me open. Laid me bare. And I don’t regret one moment of it.
How can I when she’s given me everything I didn’t know I was missing? Everything I didn’t know I needed?
I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, heart pounding, chest heaving, body so tense that I feel like I’m going to break in half. Terrified that she’s gone. Terrified that I’ve lost her.
But she’s always there, her hand finding mine in the darkness, her body curving itself so perfectly around my own. In those moments I know that I would die for her, would kill her for.
She says I’m her addiction, her obsession. It only seems fair since she’s that
and so much more to me. She’s my heart, my soul, my everything and she has been almost from the moment we met.
I don’t know how I got so blessed, but I thank the universe every day. And every day I vow to take care of her and our unborn child. To make her happy. To make her smile.
Because she is beautiful, inside and out. Beautiful and perfect and mine.