Chapter 30
Lucky
The drive home is quiet.
Not angry quiet.
Not awkward quiet.
Just… heavy. Charged. Like every breath between us remembers the sound of bone snapping.
Ethan keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift, fingers flexing every few seconds like he’s replaying every second of that fight in his head—cataloguing threats, cataloguing what he’d do differently.
Me?
I’m replaying it too, but for a very different reason.
Because I’ve never seen anyone move like that for me. Let alone, never been protected like that. And every strike he threw, lit up something low and feral in me, something I didn’t know I even had.
By the time we pull into my driveway, my pulse has migrated somewhere between my throat and my thighs.
He kills the engine. We don’t speak.
Inside, he slips immediately into security mode, scanning the windows, checking the locks he installed, moving with hard, precise purpose. His shoulders stay tense, jaw working like he hasn’t finished fighting yet.
I leave him to it.
Upstairs, I peel off my clothes without thinking—shirt, jeans, bra, panties—all of it landing in a little messy pile. The quiet should feel dangerous, but it doesn’t.
Not tonight. Not with him here.
I crawl onto my bed and sit back against the pillows, naked, legs loosely crossed, heart hammering.
By the time he steps into the doorway, he’s rolling his sleeves up, still breathing like he’s trying to come down from something dark. He stops dead when he sees me.
His eyes drag over every inch of me.
Slow. Disbelieving. Possessive in a way that makes my skin tighten.
“Lucky Vale,” His voice is rough gravel. “What are you doing?”
I smile, small and sharp. “Waiting for you.”
He exhales like I punched the air out of him. “You should be resting.”
“I am.” I tilt my head. “Just… not the way you’re imagining.”
A beat passes.
His throat works.
“You’re insane,” he murmurs.
“Probably.” I shrug, heat curling low in my stomach. “But watching you tonight…” I search for the right words, fingers brushing my own thigh. “I was terrified. For you. For me. For the entire damn restaurant.”
He steps inside, slow and wary, like I’m the dangerous one now.
“But it also—” My cheeks burn, but I don’t look away. “It did something to me. Knowing the man who can crack bones like twigs is mine. And that he’d burn down the entire world before he let anyone touch me.”
His eyes darken. Completely.
“I don’t like you seeing that side of me,” he says quietly.
“I do.”
His breath stutters.
“I’m not a violent person,” I whisper. “But tonight? You were the safest thing I’ve ever seen.”
That does it.
He crosses the room in three long strides, stopping at the edge of the bed, looking down at me like he’s trying to memorize the exact moment he loses control.
“You drive me mad,” he says, voice low. “Absolutely mad.”
“I know.” I grin up at him. “Take it out on me.”
He huffs a single, incredulous laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And naked,” I remind him.
His gaze drops to my body again, slower this time, appreciation blending with something darker.
He reaches for his shirt buttons. “I’m joining you,” he says, voice dropping into something that makes my knees go weak even though I’m already lying down. “But we’re going slow.”
“Why?”
He steps out of his shirt, then his belt, eyes never leaving mine.
“Because if I touch you the way I want to right now,” he says, voice like a promise, “the bed won’t survive it.”
My breath catches.
And when he climbs onto the mattress—controlled, deliberate, predatory in the softest, sweetest way—I feel it again:
Safe.
Wanted.
Claimed.
And I pull him down to me, smiling against his mouth.
“Good,” I whisper. “Break it.”
His mouth crashes into mine, hot and demanding, his body pressing me back into the pillows. Ethan's hands roam my skin like he's staking a claim, fingers digging into my hips, my thighs, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us.
But tonight, I want to take control. I want to show him how that violence—the way he shattered Jett and his men—ignited me. How it made me see him not just as my protector, but as the man who could unravel me completely.
I push against his chest, firm enough to make him pause. His eyes snap open, dark and questioning, lips parted from the kiss.
“My turn,” I murmur, my voice husky, laced with the need that's been building since the restaurant.
He searches my face, a flicker of surprise cutting through the hunger.
“Lucky…”
I don't let him finish. My hands slide down his torso, tracing the hard lines of muscle still tense from the brawl, over the ridges of his inked abs, until I reach his jeans.
He's already hard, the bulge straining against the fabric, and the sight sends a fresh wave of heat pooling between my legs.
I pop the button, drag the zipper down slowly, teasing him with my gaze locked on his.
“Watching you fight, like some action movie hero,” I say, my fingers wrapping around his cock as I free it, thick and throbbing in my palm. “The way you moved, so precise, so brutal… it made me wet. So fucking wet.”
He groans, head tipping back slightly, but his hands grip the sheets instead of me, giving me the reins. I stroke him once, firm and deliberate, feeling him twitch under my touch. Precum beads at the tip, and I swipe my thumb over it, spreading it down his length.
“You protected me,” I continue, shifting to kneel between his legs, pushing his pants lower until they're off. “Cracked skulls for me. And now? I want to worship this.” I lean down, my breath ghosting over his skin, and he hisses.
My tongue flicks out, tracing the underside of his cock from base to tip, savoring the salty taste of him.
He's rock-hard, veins pulsing against my lips as I take him into my mouth, inch by inch.
I suck him deep, hollowing my cheeks, my hand working what I can't fit.
Ethan's hips buck once, involuntary, and a low growl rumbles from his chest.
“Fuck, Lucky…” His voice is wrecked, fingers threading into my hair—not pulling, just holding, like he's anchoring himself.
I hum around him, the vibration making him curse again.
I bob my head, faster now, tongue swirling over the head each time I pull back.
He's close—I can feel it in the way his thighs tense, the way his breath comes in sharp bursts.
The power surges through me, knowing I have this fierce, unbreakable man unraveling under my mouth.
But I won't let him finish. Not yet. I want him desperate, aching for me the way I've been aching since he stepped into that danger for me.
Just as his grip tightens, as his abs clench and he mutters my name like a plea, I pull off with a wet pop, my hand squeezing the base to hold him back. He jerks, eyes flying open, wild and frustrated.
“Not yet,” I say, smirking up at him, my lips swollen and shiny from him. “I need you inside me first.”
Before he can protest, I climb over him, straddling his hips. My pussy is slick, dripping from the thrill of pleasuring him. I position myself above his cock, rubbing the head against my folds, coating him in my wetness. He watches, transfixed, hands finally moving to my waist, but I bat them away.
“Hands off,” I command, my voice breathy but firm. “Let me ride you.”
His jaw clenches, but he obeys, fists balling into the sheets again. The submission in his eyes— from this man who just dominated Jett’s thugs—sends a shiver down my spine.
I sink down onto him slowly, inch by torturous inch, gasping at the stretch. He's thick, filling me completely, hitting every sensitive spot as I take him to the hilt.
“Oh god,” I moan, pausing to adjust, my hands on his chest for leverage. His eyes are locked on where we're joined, pupils blown wide.
Then I start moving. Not gentle. Not slow.
I ride him hard, hips slamming down, grinding against him with each thrust. The bed creaks under us, protesting the force, but I don't care.
Every bounce sends jolts of pleasure through me, my clit rubbing against his pelvis, building that coil tighter and tighter.
“You feel that?” I pant, leaning forward to brace my hands on his shoulders, nails digging in. “This is what you do to me. Fighting like that… protecting me… it makes me want to fuck you until we both break.”
Ethan's control fractures. He thrusts up to meet me, deep and punishing, his hands finally grabbing my ass, spreading me wider as he drives into me. “Lucky,” he growls, voice raw with emotion. “You're mine. All fucking mine.”
The possessiveness in his words tips me over. I cry out, my pussy clenching around him as the orgasm rips through me, waves of heat pulsing from my core. I keep riding, chasing every last spark, my body trembling.
He follows seconds later, burying himself deep with a guttural moan, his cock pulsing as he spills inside me, hot and endless. The sensation prolongs my climax, drawing it out until I'm shuddering, spent.
I collapse onto the bed beside him, boneless, my face pressed to the crook of his neck. Sweat slicks our skin, breaths mingling in ragged harmony. His arms wrap around me immediately, strong and secure, pulling me close like he'll never let go.
Safe. Again.
Always.
My breathing finally slows enough that my brain comes back online. Ethan’s chest rises under my cheek—steady, grounding, already cooling from the high.
He drags a hand down my spine, slow and lazy. “You alive?” he murmurs, voice rough enough to bruise.
“Barely.” I nuzzle deeper into his neck. “You killed me. Congratulations. Add that to your résumé.”
A low laugh rumbles through him. “Mm. Right under ‘action movie hero,’ yeah?”
Heat hits my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“Oh, you did.” His fingers trace the back of my thigh, wickedly smug. “And I’m never letting you forget it.”
I lift my head, just enough to see that tiny, rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re impossible.”
“You started it.” His thumb brushes my hip. “Calling me a bloody hero while climbing me like a tree—hard not to get an ego from that.”
“Oh my God.” I drop my face back into his neck. “I take it back.”
“No, you don’t.” He shifts, rolling us so I’m sprawled completely over him, pinned by his warmth. “You like it. Admit it.”
I bite his shoulder, gently. “Fine. Maybe I like it a little.”
“A little,” he repeats, mock-offended. “Lucky, you were shaking.”
“That’s because you were—” I wave a hand vaguely, still draped over him, “—doing illegal things to my internal organs.”
He huffs a laugh, the kind that softens all his edges. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you,” I say, tracing the cut of his jaw with my fingertip, “are stupidly sexy when you’re being all protective and terrifying.”
His eyes darken, but not with danger—something warmer, deeper. “That shouldn’t turn you on.”
“Well, it does. Sorry. I’m morally complicated.”
“You’re insane.” He kisses my forehead, lingering there. “Utterly insane.”
“And you,” I whisper, settling against him again with a satisfied sigh, “are mine.”
His arms tighten around me, fierce and gentle all at once.
“Yeah,” he says into my hair, voice low and certain. “I am.”