Her groan carved itself inside him.
He thrust again, slow, deep movements. Returning to her felt like coming home.
She trailed her fingers down his neck and set them on his shoulders. Her nails dug into his skin, the bite of pain in such contrast with everything else she made him feel.
This woman wasn’t simplyenoughfor him. He was a slave for her. Chained in every way. It had never been a choice to love her, she’d simply walked inside his heart and never left.
He cupped her breast, palmed it. Found her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.
She tipped her head back, her chest heaving, the sound of her breathing so loud it annihilated the quiet.
He lifted her and turned. When he reached the bed, he lay on his back, keeping her on top of him. Without missing a beat, she moved, rising and lowering onto his cock, her breasts bouncing, palms flat on his chest.
Watching her ride him was the most beautiful fucking thing he’d ever seen.
He touched her core, running his thumb over her clit.
Her strangled cry cut through the room.
He continued to touch her, watch her, absorb every emotion that crossed her face.
When she lowered to kiss him, he thrust up into her, his movements fast and deep. Taking everything she had and giving it all back.
He knew the second she was close. Her breathing became loud and ragged and uneven, and the muscles in her body tensed. He kissed behind her ear and ran a circle over her clit.
And that was it. Her cry was loud and almost pained as she broke, her head dropping to the crook of his shoulder.
He thrust inside her three more times before breaking with her. Losing himself in the feel of her walls pulsing around his cock. The whispers of her breath on his neck and the way her soft, warm body surrounded him.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed. It could have been seconds. It could have been minutes. When he could finally breathe again, he asked, “Are you okay?”
She nuzzled into his chest. “I’m not sure ‘okay’ quite covers what I am.”
He chuckled, arms tightening around her.
For a while, neither of them moved. They just remained exactly as they were, holding each other, still connected in the most intimate way.
But finally, Ethan got up and carried her to the shower, where he washed every inch of her body. He did it slowly, worshipping her. Because God, she deserved it.
Back in the bedroom, he helped her into one of his shirts before basically forcing her into bed while he prepared dinner. And it was only when he left the bedroom that he allowedhimself to feel it again. The return of the rage, the frustration, the million emotions that had been living inside him since last night at the bar.
He could have lost her. The sheer fucking thought made a hollowness settle inside him. It felt big and gaping and made him want to press a palm over his chest to dull the ache.
But hehadn’tlost her. She was okay. She was safe in his bed.
He shot back some whiskey and was about to put together a quick meal when his phone vibrated with a text.
Connor: Ethan, did you and Maggie get home from the hospital okay?
Ethan: Yeah, we’re good.
Ryan: Need anything from us?
Ethan: Not right now. But I appreciate the support this last twenty-four hours.
He set down the phone and opened his fridge to see it fully stocked. His lips twitched. Shit, he loved his team.
He took out precooked chicken and some stuff to make salad. He was slicing the cucumber when his phone vibrated with another text. He didn’t look at it. He already knew it would be the guys. Once their text chain got started, it went for a while.
