6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Ethan
I see her the moment she walks into the room.
Black and white dress. Hair down to her shoulders. A pair of earrings catching the overhead lights. I haven’t been here for more than thirty minutes, evading conversations that have nothing to do with business—and even then, I’ve been awfully selective.
Even though the invitation arrived at my door, I wouldn’t have shown up if Anthony hadn’t worked his way into being the co-host.
“Do you want a drink, sir?” a server asks, balancing a silver tray with delicate glasses of frothy liquid.
I glance at him briefly, shaking my head. “No, thank you.”
With a polite nod, he moves on, but as I turn back, expecting to catch sight of her again, my chest tightens. She’s nowhere to be found.
My frown deepens as my gaze sweeps across the room, scanning through the mingling crowd. The seconds it took to decline that drink were all it took for her to vanish. I take a step forward, scanning more intently now. My eyes dart from corner to corner, over conversations and clusters of laughter. Nothing.
Where could she have gone?
I didn’t know she was going to be here… Natalie Monroe.
But I saw her—like her presence drew my gaze. I almost didn’t recognize her at first because she blended in so well and stood out at the same time.
The black-and-white dress clung to her bodice, and the skirt swept down from her waist to her legs, fanning out her silhouette. I would’ve never guessed that Natalie, in a cherry-red blouse and jeans, would own a gown that stunning.
And yet, I should’ve known.
Her laughter, the way she carried herself across the compound, and her easy, light, and almost flirty demeanor appealed to me in a way I couldn’t resist. If I wasn’t so busy picturing her naked, I might’ve imagined her in a dress like the one she was wearing.
Not that she doesn’t do a good job of turning my thoughts from logical to hazy whenever my subconscious gets creative.
“Like the party?” I groan when Anthony appears out of nowhere, throwing his arm over my shoulder. “Bet you didn’t think I could pull off something like this.”
“A party where people drink until they make stupid decisions?” I say with sarcasm, “I’ll say that’s right up your alley.”
He laughs and slaps my chest playfully. “You know it. But I’m not taking credit for the ever-flowing alcohol and the finger foods. That’s Natalie’s magic. I asked her to handle the food, and she did numbers.” He grins.
Oh ?
I didn’t question why she was here—which is the first thing that should’ve crossed my mind when I saw her. I was surprised, but she looked like she was meant to be here with the rest of the crowd.
“Did you have her wear a dress too?” I ask, unable to help myself. I wouldn’t put it past Anthony, either. As much as he pretends to be down-to-earth, my cousin can be unconsciously stuck up sometimes.
He frowns. “What dress? I haven’t seen her all evening, but that’s probably because I’ve been inside the entire time.”
And she was outside.
“Did you see her?” he asks.
I shouldn’t have said anything.
“Sure,” I shrug, keeping my tone measured with a level of disinterest. “It was a brief moment, but I saw her. Don’t you have other things to do?” I change the subject swiftly, taking his arm off my shoulders. “You’re the host for tonight.”
Anthony makes a sound like pfft. “ Which of the Crosses do you think they want to see? It’s you.” He nudges me. “The handsome, eligible bachelor. I’ve been fielding questions about your dating life all night because everyone either wants to try their luck or help someone else try theirs.”
That’s precisely why I hate parties—that and my general dislike of people.
I’m about to tell him off when I see her again. It’s her hair, but my gaze sharpens in that direction, and my eyes narrow when I see someone by her side, holding her arm.
She looks uncomfortable, although nobody around her seems to notice.
“I’ll be back,” I tell Anthony, crossing the room in strides.
As I get closer, I see that it’s more than what I glimpsed. The man, Henry Duvall, has his hand around her arm while sporting a predatory smile. Natalie, on the other hand, is trying to break free without drawing any attention.
“Come on,” he drawls in a voice that makes me gag as I reach them, “you know you want it. Stop playing hard to get.”
“Leave her alone,” I say, my voice low and threatening as I appear behind him.
It startles him enough to let go of Natalie’s arm and look over his shoulder, a flash of fear racing through his eyes when he sees me. But with men like him and Solomon, he tries to cover it with a cocky attitude.
“Ethan Cross.” He smiles, turning around. “I didn’t see you there. You look… well.”
Ignoring his obvious attempt to kiss ass , I turn my attention to Natalie. “Are you okay?”
She nods, though the flicker of surprise in her eyes is unmistakable.
“Good,” I reply before shifting my full focus back to Henry.
My gaze hardens as I step closer, my tone dropping a notch into something more menacing. “I’m aware you have a habit of not knowing where you’re wanted, but let me make something perfectly clear—this is not the time or place for your nonsense.”
I take another deliberate step forward, the space between us shrinking to a dangerous proximity. “If you put your hands on this young lady again, I’ll make sure you regret it in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”
He’s momentarily stunned and manages to recover with a cracked chuckle. “Put my hands on her? Please, I wouldn’t do that. I was just…” he shrugs, “helping her out. She approached me, as they always do, asking for favors. Right—?” He turns to her but cannot seem to remember her name .
I wait for Natalie to say something before I take my next step, half-expecting her to concur with him to keep things from escalating. After all, she thought she could get rid of him without making a scene.
Which is why I’m pleasantly surprised when she pins him with a death glare.
“I wouldn’t ask you for anything. I don’t even know who you are.”
It’s a crush on Henry’s ego, and his face contorts into an ugly sneer. “Bitch,” he mutters under his breath.
“What did you say?” I move closer to him, almost towering over his smaller figure.
He recants immediately, shaking his head. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
Then he turns around and walks away, but not before loudly calling Natalie degrading names. I start to follow after him with my fist curled, but she stops me—her fingers closing around my wrist. The unexpected contact sends a rush of warmth through me, and I glance back with an arched eyebrow.
“You don’t have to,” Natalie shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
She lets go of my wrist, but the feeling lingers. “I could’ve handled it myself… but thank you.”
My jaw clenches as I nod tightly. “You’re welcome.”
A faint smile touches her lips. “I should get back to work.”
I watch as she walks away, going further and further until she’s through the door. Sighing, I rub my wrist with my other hand, brushing my thumb across the path where her fingers were just a moment ago.
How?
How is it that she has such an effect on me? I’ve never been to dwell on things or people unless they directly affect the family’s business, but Natalie Monroe has wormed her way into my brain and under my skin.
Why else would her scent linger in her absence and her touch still my senses?
It shouldn’t be.
And it bothers me enough that I turn away. For the rest of the night, I deliberately included myself in a conversation I’d been avoiding—fraternizing with other party guests- to keep my thoughts away from her.
***
“Care for a drink somewhere else?” Anthony accosts me after the party as I head out.
I step away before he can throw his arm around my shoulder and give him a warning look.
He raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Force of habit. But a bunch of us are heading to the club to continue the fun. I know it’s not your scene, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”
“You have your answer,” I reply as I glimpse my driver standing by the car.
Anthony shrugs. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He wanders off, calling out to someone and then laughing. His laughter carries through the distance, and I shake my head with a slight distaste.
It’s as well that he didn’t turn out to be the family’s head.
“Home, sir?” The driver asks as he opens the back door for me.
“Yes, Paul,” I nod, getting in. He closes it and goes around. The car pulls away from the parking lot, taking a right onto a well-paved street. I lean back, intending to close my eyes, and take a short nap, when I see someone standing on the sidewalk.
The black and white dress has me sitting upright and peering out the window just as the car comes up close.
“Stop,” I say.
Paul stops. My eyes narrow as I stare at the person, trying— confirming— to see who it is. Then she turns, and I see Natalie.
What is she doing standing there? After our brief encounter earlier, she vanished from the event, yet somehow, I thought about her more times than I could count.
Each time she crossed my mind, I pushed the thoughts away, unwilling to entertain them.
It wasn’t until later in the evening that I noticed something odd: I avoided shaking hands with people using the hand she’d brushed. And she hadn’t even touched my palm.
“Paul—” I start to instruct my driver to continue past her, but I hesitate. I shouldn’t care why she’s standing alone by the side of the road, yet I can’t let it go.
I sigh, more to myself than to him. “Paul, could you find out what that lady is doing there?”
Paul casts me a curious glance but doesn’t ask questions. He nods and steps out of the car, striding toward her with his usual calm confidence. I watch from my seat as he approaches, noticing the way she hesitates before responding to him.
She’ll probably tell him off—stranger danger. Then, I wouldn’t have to worry about dealing with her presence in proximity. I wait for him to turn around and return with news, but Natalie starts walking towards the car.
My breath hitches as she gets closer, and my brain scrambles for an exit. She stops by the window and taps on the glass .
I clear my throat, schooling my expression before lowering it. From the slight widening of her eyes and the surprised head tilt, I can tell that she didn’t expect to see me.
Paul must’ve told her my name, but she thought he was lying.
“Mr. Cross. I didn’t think—I didn’t know it was you.”
“I assumed it was you,” I say, keeping my tone measured, “but I stopped because you looked like you were in distress.”
Which means I would’ve helped anyone else.
She sighs, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah. My crew left without me, and I didn’t drive to the party. I booked a ride, and he had me come out here only to cancel.”
This is the part where I call someone else, keep my distance, and spare myself whatever this is.
But instead, I hear my voice, low and restrained, breaking through the space between us. “Get in. Paul will take you home.”
Natalie’s eyes widen, and she waves her hands, shaking her head quickly. “Oh, no. You don’t have to do that. I’m sure I’ll find a ride. I haven’t been waiting that long.”
Her words sound confident enough, but she’s shuffling on her feet, trying to hide her discomfort. My gaze drops to her shoes and catches on the broken strap of her heel. She must notice because when I look up again, guilt clouds her face.
“I’ll be fine,” she insists, her voice softer now.
This should be my out. This is where I nod, roll up the window, and mind my own business. But something tugs at me—a weight I don’t want to name, much less acknowledge.
“It’s no trouble,” I reply, my tone clipped. I hate how much I mean it.
She hesitates for a moment, then smiles softly. “Okay. Thank you. ”
Paul, in his ever-dutiful self, rushes over and opens the other back door for her. I can barely protest before Natalie is in, and the car is moving again.
The first thing I realize is how much I underestimated things.
I knew—of course, I knew—that her presence would affect me. But I didn’t account for the closeness of a car, the semi-darkness amplifying every subtle detail: the way her silhouette shifts when she crosses her legs, the soft sound of her breath, and the scent that clings to her. It’s floral but not overwhelming.
There’s something sensual about it, something intoxicating.
I clear my throat, forcing my eyes to the far side of the window, determined to keep the space between us intact.
I sit as close to the door as I can, the faint hum of the car’s engine only making the silence heavier. I tell myself I don’t want to risk an accidental brush of our hands.
But hell, I do.
Every improper thought I’ve kept locked away about Natalie surges forward, flooding my mind. My fingers itch, and I catch myself running them over the buttons of my shirt, popping one open, then another, until I’m almost half-undressed and still burning up.
“Thank you,” she whispers in the darkness, her voice brushing over my nerves like silk.
I nod sharply, but the words I mean to say get lost somewhere between my chest and throat. Instead, I clear it again, hoping she doesn’t notice the strain in my voice when I finally manage, “It’s nothing.”
“Not this,” Natalie says. “Earlier. I know I said I was fine, but I don’t think I could’ve handled it on my own. It’s my fault, though.” I turn at that, only to find her gazing at me.
I can’t see her eyes, the radiance that I know they possess, but I can feel it .
“I saw the way he behaved with the other women, but I still walked up to him and asked if he wanted something to drink,” she murmurs. “Maybe I did it because I hoped he’d black out faster and everyone would be rid of his presence.”
The last statement sounds like an afterthought, and my lips curl at how deviant it sounds. It looks like she’s not all sunshine and rainbows, after all.
“Anyway,” she sighs. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I say, just as we pass a building with bright lights. The lights streak through the window, briefly illuminating Natalie, and our eyes meet. Something sizzles in the moment and a smoldering heat pulses through my veins, stoked higher with every passing second I continue to stare at her.
The sound of heavy breathing fills the car, mine and hers mingling in the thick, charged air. My throat tightens as her wide eyes meet mine, questioning and vulnerable.
The space between us feels like a fragile thread, and all it would take is one move, one reach, to cross the line and quiet the ache that’s been clawing at me for weeks.
My fingers dig into the seat’s leather, and my knuckles whiten as I wrestle with the pull.
Rationality claws at the edges of my mind. Don’t . The warning echoes sharply. You kiss her, and you won’t stop.
The thought hits like a cold wave, jerking me back to reality just as I begin to shift away. But before I can fully retreat, the car jolts over a bump, and Natalie lurches forward.
“Ouch!” she gasps, her hand flying to her head as she winces.
“Paul,” I bark, my voice cutting through the tension like a whip. “Lights. ”
The interior is instantly bathed in light, and I’m already moving toward her, taking her hand in mine. Her skin is soft and warm.
“It doesn’t hurt that much,” she says, gently pushing my hand away, but I can see the lie in her strained expression.
“You’re hurt,” I say, low and firm, brushing her hair aside to examine her head. My thumb traces her temple as I look for any sign of an injury, though part of me knows I’m lingering longer than necessary.
“It’s fine,” she insists, her voice unsteady, and her breath fans my face.
I look at her, really look, and my resolve wavers.
My hand stays on hers, unwilling to let go, even though I know I should. She pulls her lip between her teeth, biting down as I trace her temple some more, forcing myself to focus on her and not the lust curled around my chest, suffocating me.
But the sight—the way her lips part, the faint flush creeping up her neck—it’s too much. I lose sight of my intentions as my fingers caress her cheek, and my thumb brushes over her upper lip.
Natalie sighs shakily as the faintest shiver runs through her, and her eyelids flutter. It’s like a match to gasoline.
I don’t think. I don’t hesitate.
My restraint snaps as I lean in, capturing her mouth with mine in a brutal, searing kiss. The moment our lips meet, it’s heat and fire, a hunger that burns through me and spreads into her.
Natalie’s hands grip my shirt, pulling me closer as I press her back against the seat. My fingers thread through her hair to tilt her head just right.
I deepen the kiss, tasting her, losing myself in the intoxicating softness of her lips and the way she sighs against me. My tongue thrusts into her mouth as she whimpers, searching, seeking, claiming. My teeth graze her lip, and she moans, pulling me even closer and dragging her fingers down my back.
I can feel her nails through my shirt—the insistence in her touch fuels me.
Heavens.
The scent of her, the heat radiating from her skin, the way her nails drag lightly across my chest-it all sends my pulse racing, my breath short and ragged.
Her mouth moves with mine, matching my intensity, her body arching toward me as if closing the distance will somehow sate the wild, insatiable need consuming us both.
Pulling her roughly so she’s straddling me, I yank her dress up until it bunches around her waist. My hands grip her thighs, and I dip my head lower, running my tongue down her throat.
I can feel every curve of her body molding perfectly to mine—her soft breasts pressed against my chest, her warm thighs wrapped around my legs, and the dip of her waist moving under my touch.
She grinds down on me hard, and I groan, thrusting up to meet hers. The friction is unimaginable, even with my pants and her panties.
But I’ve thought about her in more ways than one—how it’d feel to sink my fingers into her, to put my mouth between her thighs while she begs me to continue.
My hand runs up her thighs as I pull down her dress from the top, exhaling in awe when her breasts spill out.
“ Fuck,” she whispers as I run my tongue over her nipple, flicking and licking until she’s gasping and arching, pushing into my touch. My lips close around her nipple, sucking as I slide into her panties, stroking her clit.
She gasps and buckles, falling backward with needy whimpers as she rides my hand. The air is mingled with the sound of my fingers slipping in and out of her, the breathy moans… and I grit my teeth as my hips jerk, wondering how much more I can take before I lose it completely.
Her hand slides between our bodies, and I curse under my breath when she touches me, rubbing her fingers and curling around my crotch.
“I have to—” I groan, unable to finish my sentence as she strokes me harder.
Haphazardly, I get my pants unzipped and pull them down. I lift my head to look at her—messy hair, swollen lip, and hazy eyes.
I’m seared.
Then she sinks, taking me to the hilt in one smooth thrust. I pause with painstaking patience, savoring the indescribable feeling of being in her. When she tilts her hips, I groan, capturing her lips in a kiss and quietly driving into her with steady, deep strokes.
Her mouth falls open in a soundless scream, and her eyes roll back as I fuck her hard and deep—so good and intense that she clenches around me, shaking all over as she climaxes.
I pull out immediately, finding a release that shatters me to stillness.
Natalie’s head falls on my shoulder, and my arms instinctively go around her body as we catch our breath. Her weight is nothing compared to the realization that dawns on me afterward.
Not post-coital clarity, no.
The realization that I liked this way too much that I should’ve. The knowledge that Natalie is now seared into my brain because I acted when I should’ve looked away.
It was reckless. And stupid.
It’s not like I can keep her around—Anthony was right about Natalie being too good for the Cross family’s stain. I should never have stopped, or at least I could’ve guilt-tripped Anthony into giving her a ride.
I’ll end it here in hopes that I never see her again.