58| A Night of Intimacy

Ethan returned to the living room, his face still visibly tense and upset. He thought Sophie was asleep, but she wasn't—and he had forgotten to mask his emotions.

Shit.

Sophie noticed immediately, and her heart sank.

"Ethan, are you still mad at me?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her voice did something to him.

"Mad?" Ethan repeated, almost incredulous.

How could he ever be mad at her? Just how could he tell her that?

"Sophie, what do I do?" he murmured. "Ever since I saw those men hovering over you, my heart won't stop beating. I'm mad, but not at you."

Sophie's palm rested over his heart, feeling the erratic rhythm beneath her fingertips.

Wild. Uncontrolled.

Her breath hitched.

It wasn't just fear—it was something else entirely. Something she had never felt before.

Did his heart always beat this fast when she was around?

"Ethan, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "If I knew things would turn out like this, I wouldn't have done what I did."

Ethan shook his head, his gaze softening as it locked onto hers. "Sophie, I'm mad at those men for threatening you, for making you feel unsafe. I'm mad at myself for not handling those loan sharks better. But I could never be mad at you."

I'm mad that I wasn't someone you trusted.

But then—

She lifted her gaze, determination settling in her features.

"Ethan, I trust you the most in this world," she said, almost as if she had read his mind. "As much as I trust you, sometimes I feel like I have to hide the part of me that's not pretty."

Her voice wavered but didn't break.

"Because I'm Sophie. I'm cheerful, happy Sophie. But I'm not always happy. Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I'm exhausted. Sometimes... I just want to cry."

She let out a soft, shaky laugh. "I guess I just want to be perfect to you, because for some reason, I care so much about your opinion of me."

Ethan froze.

Because God—he understood.

In fact, he understood perfectly.

More than he could ever admit.

He, too, only wanted her to see the good parts of him.

He wasn't sure if he was ready to show her the ones that weren't. The ones that felt too raw, too broken.

And yet, he had never found her more beautiful than she was in this moment.

Vulnerable. Raw. Honest.

And his.

But something about Sophie's words made him want to hold her. Hold her tighter. Maybe even tighter than he had ever held anyone before.

He wanted to kiss her.

So he did.

Ethan brought his lips to hers, kissing her deeply, pouring everything he couldn't say into that single moment.

How else could he show her what he felt? The feelings he couldn't even name? The ones that started with L—the one word he had convinced himself he could never have. Never accept.

The kiss deepened, and soon, Sophie's fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer. Ethan groaned softly in response, his grip on her tightening as if afraid to let go.

His hands found their way beneath her shirt, feeling the warmth of her skin. He trailed kisses from her lips to her jaw, then lower, nipping gently at the sensitive skin of her neck. Sophie arched into him, her breath hitching.

She wanted more.

Ethan had changed into a fresh shirt earlier, but her hands fumbled with the buttons now, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

She wanted it gone again.

As the fabric slipped from his shoulders, her fingers explored the hard lines of his chest—but then, she saw them. The bruises blooming against his skin. The ones she had iced earlier.

Her touch softened. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her fingers tracing the darkened marks.

Ethan's eyes darkened—not with pain, but with something deeper. Something more. He pulled her in, his hands steady on her waist.

Without thinking, Sophie leaned down, pressing her lips gently to one of the bruises. Ethan tensed at the contact, a sharp inhale breaking the silence, but the warmth of her mouth sent something dangerous spiraling through him.

He wanted her.

He wanted her bad.

Maybe tonight, they would finally cross the line they had both danced around for so long.

His lips found hers again, this time more urgent, more desperate. His hands slid beneath her blouse, lifting it over her head. He paused, taking in the sight of her, eyes dark with something raw, something hungry.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, voice husky.

Sophie's cheeks flushed under his intense gaze. "Ethan," she whispered, her voice trembling—not with hesitation, but with need.

Ethan answered her with another kiss, his hands exploring every inch of her skin, igniting something deep inside her. Sophie's hands roamed over his back, pulling him impossibly close. She needed to feel him. To be as close to him as possible.

Their kisses grew heavier, hungrier, urgency thick in the air.

Ethan's fingers found the clasp of her bra, unhooking it with practiced ease. She let it slip away, her breath catching as his lips traced a slow, deliberate path down her collarbone.

He was worshiping her. And she wanted him to.

Before she could think, Ethan scooped her into his arms. She gasped softly, clinging to him as he carried her toward the stairs, their eyes never breaking contact.

As they reached his bedroom, he set her down gently—his hands never leaving her body.

They shed what remained of their clothing in a tangle of urgency and tenderness. Their movements were hurried but careful, their touches soft but desperate, as if neither could bear to be apart for even a moment longer.

Ethan's lips trailed lower, leaving heat in their wake, his hands mapping out every curve of her body with reverence.

Sophie could feel it.

They weren't stopping this time.

And she was ready. More than ready.

Her hands traced the lines of his muscles, drinking in the sight of him above her. The tension between them coiled tight, ready to snap.

Ethan hovered over her, his eyes searching hers. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.

Was he serious?

They had come so far. She never imagined they would reach this moment—to know him like this, to touch him so easily, to have him.

That question was ridiculous.

Instead of answering, she kissed him—pouring all her certainty, all her longing into it.

That was all the permission Ethan needed.

His body lowered to hers, their lips meeting again as their bodies finally, finally came together in a way that felt both inevitable and perfect.

The world outside ceased to exist.

Nothing else mattered.

It was her first time, but it was more than anything she had ever imagined. If she hadn't been sure she loved him before, she was more than certain now.

Sophie's fingers dug into Ethan's shoulders, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure coursed through her.

Ethan's movements were both gentle and demanding—she could feel it in every touch, every thrust. He needed her just as much as she needed him.

And when he whispered her name, voice rough with desire, it undid her completely.

They reached the peak of their passion together, lost in each other, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

When it was over, they collapsed into each other's arms, their skin damp with sweat, their breaths mingling as they tried to come down from the high of their lovemaking.

Ethan's gaze burned into hers—dark, wanting, insatiable.

And when he gave her that look, the one that told her he already wanted her again, Sophie knew she was completely, utterly damned.

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