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“I’m concerned that you didn’t tell Sebastian.”
“We were standing in the middle of a crowded lobby, for God’s sake. Anyone could have overheard.”
“So what? I thought we were running off to Vegas to get married because you didn’t want to wait any longer. I didn’t realize it was because you wanted to keep it a secret.”
“Seriously? You think I want to keep it a secret?”
“Isn’t that what you just said?” she demands.
“If that’s what you heard, then I’m sorry. But no, that’s not what I said. It’s not what I meant.” I cross to her then, wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into my body. She holds herself stiffly against me at first, but she slowly relaxes as I rub soothing circles over her lower back.
“Jesus, Chloe,” I tell her when she finally leans into me, resting
her head on my chest. “Don’t you know by now that if it was up to me, I’d call my PR person and have him send a statement about our wedding to every newspaper and magazine in the country? I’d buy out the billboards in Times Square. I’d tell everyone. That’s how proud I am to be marrying you.
“But if I do that—or even if I let it leak—I’m not sure you’re ready for the publicity shitstorm that’s going to hit us. Paparazzi will follow you everywhere, hundreds of requests for interviews will come in, reporters will start digging into your life. It’s going to happen eventually, no matter what I do, but there are ways for us to control it. Ways for us to make sure it happens on our terms and not theirs.”
I lean down, press kisses to her temple, her cheek, her jaw. “I didn’t tell Sebastian in the middle of the hottest hotel lobby in Vegas because I was hoping to give you a little time to get used to being my wife before the circus starts. But if I was wrong and you’re ready to announce it, let’s do it. I’ll call Stu and have him work up a statement to release tomorrow morning, after we’re married.”
She shakes her head, buries her face in my chest. “No. No. You’re right. I’m sorry. I just—I don’t want you to rush into marrying me and then regret it, you know? You’re one of the most powerful men in the world and I’m—”
I stop her with a light finger over her mouth. “You’re the woman I love. The woman I adore. The woman, who, once she graduates from law school, is going to be one of the most kickass, formidable attorneys Frost Industries has ever had working for them.”
She laughs then, a low, melodious sound that has the tension leaking out of my spine even as it arouses me. “I never said I’d work for you after law school.”
“Frost Industries hires the best and brightest from all over the world. Why wouldn’t you want to work for us?”
“The same reason I’m not sure I’m going to come back as your intern. It seems—”
“Oh, you’re coming back as my intern,” I tell her as I start to unbutton the high collared blouse she wore to hide the proliferation of hickeys I gave her last night. “If I have to write it into our wedding vows, I will. But you’re definitely coming back. I need you.”
“You don’t need me.” Her hands are on the buttons of my shirt now, as well. “You just said you have the best and brightest working for you.”
“I need you more than you can ever imagine,” I tell her, pulling back so that I’m staring into her beautiful eyes. I want her to be able to look at me and see just how much she means to me. I want her to know it, deep down in her gut. In her bones. With our pasts, the future won’t be easy for us. If we’re going to weather it, she has to know—and I have to know she knows—just how much she means to me. “The last few weeks, when things have been so uncertain between us, have been the worst of my life. I need you in my life, Chloe. I need you in my arms. In my bed. In—”
“You have me, Ethan.” She gestures to The Strip outside our window, to the heavy bracelet she’s even now wearing on her wrist. “Obviously, you have me. And I’m not going anywhere this time. But being in your life doesn’t mean I have to work for you, too—”
“With me. Not for me.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m an intern, Ethan.”
“For now. But in a few years, you won’t be. When you’re a full-blown, passed-the-bar lawyer, I want you working with me because I’m not stupid enough to let the competition have you. I’m not lying when I say you’re one of the brightest, most proactive interns Frost Industries has ever had. The work you did on the Trifecta merger was top-notch. Better than Rick’s, better than any one of the interns who has been there longer than you. You’ve got an instinct for patent law, an intrinsic understanding of it. I’d be an idiot to let you go.
“Besides”—I lean down and press kisses to her collarbone, her shoulders, the tops of her beautiful breasts as I slide her blouse off her shoulders. She arches her back, presses her hips against my own—“we both know you want to come back.”
“I never said—” Her voice hitches on a breathy moan. “I never said I wanted to come back.”
Her hands are under my shirt now, sliding up my back and scraping lightly at the muscles on either side of my spine. It turns me on, gets me harder when I didn’t know that was even possible.
“You do, though. And I want you back. So what’s the problem?” I lick my way between her breasts, reveling in the way she shivers. The way she gasps and burrows closer.
“What…what problem?” The words are soft now, broken, as her fingers tangle in my hair and hold my mouth tight to her breast.
“That’s what I’m asking you.” I skim my mouth over her breast to her nipple, then pull the tight, lace-covered bud into my mouth and bite down gently.
“I don’t—oh, God, do that again—I don’t have a problem.”
“I do,” I tell her with a groan, sliding my free hand beneath her skirt to cup her lush ass. “You’re wearing too many damn clothes.”
