Chapter 25 #2
He finally presses it between my legs, and I cry out, body jolting. The pleasure is instant. Hot. Sharp. He keeps the pressure steady, never too much, never not enough.
I writhe under him, moaning his name, and just when I’m right there, seconds from falling apart, he pulls it away.
“No,” I gasp.
“Yes,” he growls. “You’ll come when I say.”
My body is burning. Desperate. I nod frantically, begging.
He kisses down my chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth while the wand returns—this time lower, more precise. He watches me come apart, whispering filth and praise in equal measure. And when he finally gives me permission, I shatter.
It’s not soft. It’s not slow. It’s everything at once—blinding heat, spasms of pleasure, the sound of his voice anchoring me as my orgasm crashes through.
I’m barely coherent when he moves over me, shoving his pants down, sliding into me with a deep, claiming thrust. My cry is swallowed by his kiss. He doesn’t hold back, doesn’t pretend this is anything but raw and possessive.
“Mine,” he growls against my throat, thrusting hard. “All fucking mine.”
“Yes,” I gasp, clinging to him. “Always.”
His movements are frenzied as he chases his own pleasure, and when he comes, it’s with a hoarse groan, his entire body tensing as he spills inside me.
He stays like that for a moment, forehead resting on mine, our hearts pounding in sync.
The silence after is soft. Safe.
He unties the blindfold, kisses my cheeks, my lips, my eyelids.
“I needed that,” he whispers, voice rough with emotion.
“I know,” I murmur.
I curl around him, pulling up the sheets. “It’s going to be okay, Ethan. We’re going to be okay.”
He rests his chin on my head. “You can’t stop me from worrying.”
“I know.”
His hand comes to rest around my waist, fingers splayed protectively over where our child grows. “Once everything is over, let’s go somewhere. Just the two of us.”
“And this little nugget,” I chuckle.
“And the baby,” he agrees.
“How about Switzerland? We can go to one of the villages, get a cabin there, and stay for a few weeks.”
I look up at him, surprised. “Really? I was sure you’d say Paris or something romantic like that.”
“I can take you to all those places. But I want you to relax, get away from all this. Explore the waterfalls, walk in the rain. Sleep late, wake up when the sun is in the sky.”
I wriggle on the bed till I am lying on top of him, my arms folded beneath me, the slight bump of stomach pressing against his. “That sounds very unlike you, Mr. Workaholic.”
He smiles now, lifting his hand to wrap around a curl of my hair.
“You make me want to forget about work. I just want to lose myself in you. I want lazy mornings with you, even lazier afternoons. I want to watch you fall asleep in my arms. I want to be alone with you, away from the hustle of the city, of our jobs.”
My chest tightens, warmth spreading through me.
“Why are you so wonderful?”
He blinks in surprise at my words.
I press a kiss to his cheek. “Absolutely wonderful.”
For the first time, I see his cheeks turn slightly red.
He wraps his arms around me, his voice gruff. “Seems you’re ready for round two.”
“No.” I slide my arms around his neck. “I’m ready to tell you how I feel, how madly you’ve made me fall in love with you.”
He goes still, his eyes watching me, a hint of vulnerability in them now. “Natalie?—”
“Once this is all over, I want to wear that ring you got me. I want to wear it proudly,” I smile, tears in my eyes. “I want to tell the whole world you are mine, and only mine.”
He buries his face in my neck, and I run my fingers through his hair, savoring the silky texture against my skin.
“Fuck, you undo me,” he whispers against my neck.
“Like you’re any better,” I laugh.
When he kisses me, it’s fierce, love and desire pouring through to me.
I don’t resist, wrapping my legs around him, drawing him closer.
“I love you, Natalie Thorne, my beautiful, stubborn, gorgeous girl,” he breathes. “You drive me fucking insane.”
My head tilts back as he slides down my body, worshipping it .
As Ethan plays me like his favorite instrument, my heart overflows with these feelings of joy and warmth.
A month passes before anything happens.
The police haven’t caught whoever it was that tried to run me over. My assailant seems to be lying low.
“Natalie, dear.”
I look up from my desk and see Helen Wilder entering my office with a smile, unwinding a cashmere scarf from around her neck and unbuttoning her long wool coat. “I hope I haven’t disturbed you.”
I quickly get to my feet. “Of course not, Mrs. Wilder. Sit, please. Can I get you something?”
“No, no.” She shakes her head. “I was hoping we could get lunch together today. I already asked your dragon sitting upstairs.”
Hearing her refer to Ethan as my dragon makes me want to chuckle. “He’s just being protective after everything that happened.”
She smiles at me. “As he should be. And I see you have switched to a looser blouse. How about we go shopping for maternity clothes later? A woman should always have a sense of style, even if she is carrying a child. And I know the perfect place.”
“Mrs. Wilder?—”
“Helen,” she corrects me. “You’re family now. I won’t have any of this ‘Mrs. Wilder’ nonsense. I’m going to be very unhappy with you if you keep this up.”
I laugh lightly. “Fine. But I can only do lunch. I have some interviews to deal with after lunch.”
“Of course. Then I guess we should leave now to make our reservation. ”
Her driver is waiting outside, and I grab my heavy winter coat from behind my office door, wrapping my scarf snugly around my neck.
The December wind cuts through the Manhattan streets, and I'm grateful for the warm layers as I exit the building and find myself looking around nervously, scanning every corner and shadow.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I see no car racing towards me and no one idling on the curb.
“Are you getting in, dear?”
“Y-yes.”
I slide in, hoping for a quick and comfortable lunch.
The café Helen has picked is quiet and elegant—exactly what I expected from Ethan’s mother.
It’s tucked into a quiet corner of downtown, with high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and pale gold tablecloths.
Everything about it whispers money and restraint.
It fits her. It doesn’t feel like me, but for her, I’ll pretend.
She orders tea. I order sparkling water. I can’t have coffee, and the thought of anything too rich makes my stomach turn. Even now, the scent of something buttery from the next table is making me queasy.
“You’re pale,” she notes gently, stirring her tea. “Still sick in the mornings?”
I nod. “Not just the mornings. Pretty much all day. Though it’s finally starting to ease up a bit now that I’m past the first trimester.”
She clicks her tongue sympathetically. “It’ll pass. For some of us, it takes a little longer, but it will. Once you’re through the second trimester, things get easier.”
Her voice is warm today, softer than I expected. I think I was braced for something colder—especially after all the headlines and the chaos surrounding my name. But this lunch? It’s... oddly normal. Comforting, even.
“I’ve started to show a little,” I say, laying a hand over my stomach instinctively. It’s not obvious yet—not unless someone’s looking closely. But it’s real. The change. The weight of it.
Helen’s expression shifts, something affectionate blooming in her sharp, poised features. “You’ll be beautiful. Pregnancy suits most women, especially strong ones.”
I try not to laugh at that. I don’t always feel strong.
We talk a little more about the baby, the nursery.
“Have you two started decorating?” she asks.
I give her a small smile. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. Aside from a crib, I don’t even know what a baby needs. We have our anatomy scan scheduled for next week though—Ethan’s more excited about finding out the gender than I am.”
It’s not like I can go to my mother for advice.
“Well, you need a changing table for starters,” Helen murmurs thoughtfully. “And ideally a recliner for yourself so you can feed the baby comfortably. And I believe baby monitors are a thing now.”
I give her an exasperated look. “I should know all this, shouldn’t I?”
She touches my hand lightly. “You’re a first-time mother. Nobody expects you to know everything.”
“Ethan bought parenting books. When I tried to read them, I nearly nodded off,” I admit, ashamed.
She laughs now. “You don’t have to read those books.
My husband also bought several of those when we first had Ethan and Jake.
I didn’t touch them. My mother used to tell me that a mother was born with instincts that told her what to do.
It’s the men who struggle. If you have questions, you can come to me.
If you want, I can also come stay with you two for the first few weeks, like my mother did with every child I had. It takes a village, after all.”
“Really?” Hope blooms within me. “That would be wonderful. Would you like to—” I hesitate, wondering if she would find my next question too imposing. “—come with me to shop for the baby’s furniture?”
Helen’s eyes fill with delight. “I wouldn’t be a bother?”
“I would love your input.” I flush. “If I had a better relationship with my mother, I might have asked her, but you’ve been more of a mother to me than she has.”
“My dear.” Helen wipes her eyes. “I am honored. And even moreso that you want to include me in all of this. Let’s set a date. Next weekend? I have some wonderful places I can take you. My interior designer will take a look at the room, and we can choose a color theme.”
As she goes on, I listen with a growing smile. Her enthusiasm is contagious.
When the check comes, she pays without discussion. And when we step outside into the biting December air, our breath visible in small puffs of vapor, I pull my coat tighter around me and feel oddly lighter despite the cold.
We reach the car, and she’s on the other side, opening her door, when I hear the sound of a door slamming shut. Without thinking, my eyes swivel to the right, just behind me.
“Natalie?”
The voice freezes me in place. Not because it’s loud. But because it’s familiar.
Too familiar.
I turn slowly.
“Rose.”
She's standing a few feet away, inches away from a black car, her long hair whipping in the winter wind despite being tied back, a soft blue dress visible beneath her open black coat. She's holding something in her hand, beside her purse, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold.
My stomach twists—and not from the nausea this time.
Her smile is too bright. Too cheerful. “We should catch up over coffee. ”
I don’t respond right away.
“Natalie, dear?” I feel Helen’s gaze on me from inside the car where she’s now sitting.
My heart is pounding.
“Natalie?” Rose’s cheerful voice has me flinching, and my eyes go to her purse and the small item beside it.
“Helen,” I mumble. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
She frowns. “Is that a friend of yours?”
“My-My brother’s ex. I have to go. Tell Ethan.”
I close the car door, my heart sinking.