Frost on Friday #8

Hey, everyone! I hope you enjoyed Control this week :)  Since I posted the last excerpt yesterday, I wanted to finish up this week with a Frost on Friday.  So here's another quick look at Ethan and Chloe.  Hope you enjoy :)

Blurb:
He’s the last man Chloe Girard should love . . . but the first she ever could.
 
Ethan Frost is a visionary, a genius, every woman’s deepest, darkest fantasy—even mine. And, somehow, I am his.
 
He stole into my life like a dream. Turned my reality upside down and made my every desire come true—especially those I never knew I had. He demanded everything I had to give and gave me everything of himself in return.
 
But dreams don’t last forever, and ours is no exception. Because my nightmares are darker, and my wounds deeper, than I could ever reveal. And as much as Ethan wants to protect me, the secrets we we share will only tear us apart.
Excerpt:

I get to work early on Monday morning so I can run by Ethan’s office to see him. And to drop off the blender.

His assistant ushers me right into his office, his eyes on the blender the entire time. I don’t know if that’s because he’s fascinated by the endless possibilities presented by the Vitamix, or if it’s because I missed a hickey in the great love bite cover-up that took the better half of my morning and he’s desperate not to focus on it.

Either way, I figure it’s not going to take much for the rest of the company to start talking about us. Strangely, I find that possibility much less concerning now than I did even a couple of days ago.

That old song about the difference a day makes is right on . . . or maybe it’s just that my perception has changed. Either way, I’m not going to let worry over that color these few stolen moments with Ethan.

He’s on the phone when I walk in, but he immediately smiles when he sees me. At least until he notices the blender I’m carrying.

“I’ve got to go,” he tells the person on the other end of the line. “Something’s come up.”

Then he’s walking around the desk to get to me, everything about him just a little more predatory than I remember from yesterday.

“Hello, Ms. Girard,” he says as he shuts the door.

“Hello, Mr. Frost.”

He takes the heavy blender from me, drops it on the corner of his desk. “I thought we took care of the whole present thing yesterday.”

“Maybe you took care of it. I certainly didn’t.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s a blender.”

“Exactly.” I smile as I repeat his words back to him. “What’s the big deal? It’s a blender.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day.”

I play coy, glance up at him through my lashes. “I thought it already had.”

He groans then, pulls me into his arms. “I missed you last night.”

“I missed you, too.”

He bends his head, nuzzles my neck. “Tonight you’re staying with me.”

“It’s customary to ask, you know.” It’s my turn to moan as he pulls the high collar of my blouse out of the way so that he can lick at the bruises on the side of my throat. Despite my determination to keep things professional during business hours, my head lolls to the side in an effort to give him better access.

“I asked yesterday and all it got me was an empty bed. I’m not making that mistake again.”