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"Two-point one million dollars, yeah. You saw the numbers."
"You're famous."
"I know."
"You're a fucking rock star, Ethan. I'm a math grad student. You're the one who's important."
"No. You're important." He drags his lips over my cheek. "You're the only person who makes me feel important."
"I…"
"This." He drags his lips over my neck until I'm groaning. "Is important."
"What is this?"
"Filling you with pleasure."
"You say that to all the girls you get off in crowded clubs?"
"No, I don't. I say it to you." He slides his hand between my legs. "Not gonna lie to you, Vi. Even after everything, I'd never lie to you."
I nod.
"I've fucked a lot of women. I'm always generous. Always make sure a woman comes. But it's not like with you. It doesn't mean anything. It's routine. A way to get out of my head. A way to forget about you."
"Ethan…"
"I need to feel you come on my hand now." He presses his lips to mine. "Tell me you want that too."
"Someone will see."
"Do you care?"
"No."
"You still like feeling dirty, Vi?"
"Yes," I breathe.
From the hungry look in his eyes, it's clear we're done talking. That should bother me—the stuff we're saying does not in any way imply this is casual—but it doesn't.
Right now, nothing bothers me. I'm light. I'm free. I'm a fucking cloud.
And I want to feel dirty. I want to feel all the pleasure Ethan can give me.
He strokes me over my panties. I look up at him, watching the wonder spread over his face as he watches me back.
Goddammit, he looks so sexy in control.
He strokes me harder. He pulls me closer. He brings his lips to my neck. Then his teeth are sinking into my skin.
I gasp much louder than I should. But I don't care about that eith
er. Knowing we have an audience makes me hotter. Knowing we can get in trouble makes me hotter. The truth is, I trust Ethan to wipe away any complications.
I trust him to erase everything that hurts, to turn all the pain in my life into pleasure.
This—us bringing each other pleasure—is the only thing, besides math, that has ever made sense to me.
