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When I heard that, I almost asked what they meant, but I couldn’t react, not after what happened between us in the water, when I touched him like that in front of everyone.
Luckily, Kai, without realizing it, gave me all the answers I needed.
He said he represented Ethan when his contract with Antonia was registered—the one in which they agreed to pretend to be a couple for a while.
I didn’t just feel relieved. I was ecstatic.
But then the conversation shifted to the paparazzo caught earlier trying to take their photos, the one who injured Ethan. Colt’s men released him after finding out he worked for a no-name publication in New York.
He’d already been in Zanzibar when we arrived, chasing an actor who happened to be vacationing here, but when he saw Ethan and the others, he decided their story was far juicier.
They even found out how he slipped into the resort, though they didn’t share those details, and no one pressed for them—especially not me or Sierra.
“Going to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” Ethan says, his voice pulling me out of the avalanche of my thoughts swirling through my head.
A second later, panic flashes through me. “Fuck,” I hear him mutter, his voice rough, followed by a low groan as he throws his head back.
“What happened? Are you okay?” I ask quickly, sitting up, my pulse spiking.
My mind jumps immediately to the wound on his side. What if it hurts again? What if what we just did made it worse? I didn’t even think about that while we were in bed, and now guilt crashes over me all at once.
“I’m fine, Thalia,” he says, his tone steady but his posture tense, head still leaned back, chest rising and falling too fast. “I just… don’t know if you’ll be fine with this.”
His face turns toward me, eyes dark and conflicted, and then he says seriously, “But I fucked you bare.” He gestures toward his cock, still catching his breath.
“What?” The word escapes me in a whisper before rising. “Ethan… oh my God.”
Shock floods me, every thought colliding at once. How did I not realize? How did I not feel the difference? The other two times, we'd used a condom. How could I have missed that?
God, Thalia, how careless can you be?
“I’m sorry,” Ethan says, voice softer. “It wasn’t intentional.”
He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling hard, then meets my eyes. There’s frustration there, like he’s angry at himself for losing control.
“I’m on the pill,” I manage to say, my voice unsteady.
It’s the truth. I’ve been taking them since before I even started having sex, my doctor prescribed them because of my irregular periods.
He nods firmly, as if trying to process it.
“Are you…” he starts, then stops.
His jaw tightens, and he drags a hand through his hair again, wincing this time as the movement pulls at his abdomen. I catch the flicker of pain on his face, though he doesn’t make a sound.
“Are you clean?” I ask instead, my voice softer but direct. I’m sure that’s what he wanted to ask me too, but he knows I was a virgin when we first slept together, and maybe he doesn’t know how to phrase it.
He chuckles quickly—sharp, dry, carrying more tension than humor. His expression hovers somewhere between amusement and irritation.
He looks at me like he’s deciding whether to be offended or impressed that I even asked.
I hold his gaze, refusing to look away. He can think whatever he wants. I know what kind of man he is, what kind of life he lives. From the first time we slept together until now, I’m sure there have been plenty of other women.
“I’ve never fucked anyone bare before, Thalia,” he says, holding my gaze.
Am I relieved? Of course I am.
Do I feel that knot in my chest at the thought of him with other women—so many of them? No. Obviously not. Why would I?
