Chapter 27 JADE #2
I do. And there's something in his expression that catches my breath. A vulnerability beneath the desire, a need that goes beyond the physical.
His thumb finds my clit again and rubs tight, coaxing me higher with every stroke, every thrust.
"Come with me," he grits, voice breaking.
The third orgasm builds differently than the others, a slow-rising tide rather than a sudden crash.
When it breaks, it takes me under completely, my body clenching around him, pulling him deeper.
I hear him groan my name, like it's the only word he remembers, as he follows me over the edge, his body shuddering against mine.
We collapse together, breath tangled, skin slick. He cradles me against his chest, both of us trembling with the aftershocks, too dazed to speak.
We stay joined for long moments afterward, both reluctant to separate. Finally, he rolls to the side, gathering me against his chest, one hand stroking lazily up and down my spine.
The silence between us is comfortable, intimate in a way I've never experienced before. I find myself tracing patterns on his chest, connecting his scars like a map.
We lie there, wrapped in each other, in the quiet aftermath of what we've just shared. But beneath the contentment, there's something else stirring in me. A need to share, to reciprocate the vulnerability and courage that he finally showed me.
"I need to tell you something," I say finally, my voice soft in the dim room. "About why I haven't been with anyone in so long."
He stills beneath me, his hand pausing on my back. "You don't have to explain anything to me."
"I want to," I insist, propping myself up on my elbow to look at him. "I need to."
His eyes search mine, and whatever he sees there makes him nod. "Okay. I'm listening."
I take a deep breath, gathering courage. "When I was younger, from about fourteen to sixteen, my manager... he abused me." The words are painful to push past my lips, like swallowing broken glass in reverse. "Not... not rape. He never went that far. But he would touch me. Make me touch him."
Ethan's body goes rigid beneath me, his jaw clenching so hard I can see the muscle jump. "Who?" The single word contains more menace than I've ever heard.
"His name was Charles Mercer." Even saying his name makes my skin crawl. "He discovered me at a mall when I was twelve, convinced my mother he could make me a star. And he did. But the price..." I swallow hard, fighting back the memories. "The price was too high."
"I'll kill him," Ethan says simply, the words flat and terrifyingly sincere.
"He's already dead," I tell him, placing a calming hand on his chest. "Three months after I got emancipated at sixteen, he had an overdose."
Some of the tension leaves his body, but his eyes remain hard. "Good."
"I felt relief when I heard," I admit, the confession both shameful and liberating.
"Not just because he couldn't hurt me anymore, but because he couldn't hurt anyone else.
I'd been afraid... afraid that if I came forward, no one would believe me.
That I'd lose everything I'd worked for.
That he'd just move on to another girl."
"You were a child," Ethan says fiercely. "None of it was your fault."
"I know that now," I say, though the truth is, some days I still struggle to believe it.
"But for a long time, I felt that I could have done more for myself.
To remove me from that situation. You see, the whole thing started sweet enough.
He was like a father figure to me. His own daughter lived distant with her mother.
But when she came to visit him, it was like the sister I never had.
The four of us, him, my mother and Becky for a while we were like a new family that had found each other.
But slowly, things started to change. His touching became more invasive.
He started calling me..." I take a deep breath and whisper, "little doll. "
I lift my gaze to him and see that he understands now. So I carry on, "Little by little I stopped feeling grateful to feel shame, disgust with myself, afraid that me and my mother would lose everything that we had..."
"Why didn't you tell your mother?" Ethan asks with hardly contained anger.
"I did." I admit, feeling empty remembering her dismissiveness. "She... she said that we all have to make sacrifices in life."
Ethan growls. He legitimately growls.
"Anyway, Gloria started working as his assistant and noticed something was off. Long story short, she helped me get rid of Charles and my mother and has been helping me ever since."
I feel his hand running circles on the small of my back, so I draw courage and tell the rest of my story.
"Later on, when I was about nineteen, I fell for the charms of a boy, only to find out that he didn't really want me.
He just wanted to sell the story to the tabloids on how he took the virginity of the most beautiful girl in the world.
" I say, rolling my eyes. "And voilà, the Ice Queen was born.
I never let anyone get that close anymore. "
He cups my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I'm so sorry for what you went through. If I could go back in time I would kill Charles myself. He got away easily. About the other boy, I only have one question: name?"
I smile at his protectiveness. "Let it go. It was a long time ago... and it turns out, it relaunched my career. I was no longer a girl, but a woman. The three worst things that happened in my life turned out to have a pretty good silver lining."
"Three?"
"Charles, the boy who will remain nameless, and the attack at the hotel pool. If it wasn't for the attack, we never would have met," I say, grinning and trying to lighten the mood.
"I don't know how I feel about being in the same sentence as those two," Ethan grumbles.
"Oh... I think I can make you feel good again," I say teasingly, kissing his large chest, moving up the collarbone...
"Hmm... hold that thought," he says, stopping my advances. "What we just shared, what we'll share in the future if you want, is sacred to me. It isn't about taking anything from you. It's about giving. Both of us giving to each other."
Tears prick my eyes at the sincerity in his voice. "I know. That's why I wanted to tell you. Because this, you... it feels different. It feels right."
He kisses me then, so gently it makes my heart ache. "Thank you for trusting me with this," he says when we part. "I know it wasn't easy."
"Only my mother and Gloria knew before now," I admit.
He's quiet for a moment, his fingers trailing through my hair. "No more secrets between us," he says finally. "That's my promise to you."
"No more secrets," I agree, settling back against his chest.
He hesitates, and I can feel the shift in him, the tension returning to his body. "There's something else we need to talk about," he says carefully.
I know immediately what he means. "Declan and Mateo."
He nods, his expression unreadable. "I've seen the way they look at you. The way you look at them."
I consider deflecting, downplaying, but the promise of no more secrets is too fresh. "I have feelings for them," I admit. "Different from what I feel for you, but still real. Still strong."
I wait for anger, for jealousy, for him to pull away. Instead, he sighs, a sound of resignation rather than surprise.
"I suspected as much," he says. "The three of us, we've been through hell together. Built our lives around each other after everything fell apart. We're a unit. A family."
"I would never want to come between that," I say quickly.
"I know." His arms tighten around me. "That's part of why I fought this. Fought us, for so long. I couldn't bear the thought of causing a rift."
"And now?" I ask, holding my breath.
"Now..." He pauses, considering. "I think you are free to do whatever you want. I don't own you. You already have too many restrictions in your life. I will not become another one."
I stare at him, stunned. "You mean..."
"I mean that whatever happens next, it needs to be honest. Open. If you want to explore what you feel for them, you should trust them with your secrets too. Your fears. Your past. Like you've trusted me."
The enormity of what he's suggesting washes over me. Not jealousy or possessiveness, but understanding. Acceptance.
"Is that even possible?" I whisper.
"I don't know," he answers honestly. "But I know that what I feel for you is too important to let fear dictate my actions anymore. And what I feel for them, my brothers, is too deep to sacrifice for anything."
He kisses me again, slower this time, deeper. When we part, he rests his forehead against mine. "We'll figure it out. Together."
As I curl against him, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath my ear, I feel something unfamiliar unfurling inside me. Not just desire or affection, but hope. Real, fragile, beautiful hope.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, I allow myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, I can have what I truly want. Not a piece of a life, but the whole. Not fragments of love, but its entirety.
No more hiding. No more secrets. No more fear.
Tonight, wrapped in Ethan's arms, I feel safer than I've ever been. And as sleep claims me, one last thought drifts through my mind: I'm falling in love with him. And I think, just maybe, he's falling for me too.