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.” 

Control: Part Four

Okay, everyone, here's the final installation of Control, an outtake from Ruined.  Hope you enjoy :)

Excerpt:

“Ethan, please-“

The need in her voice turns me inside out even as it breaks the last chain of my restraint.  I slide my hand up her thigh, under the prim skirt that’s been driving me insane all day.  My finger skates along the edge of her panties and I’m desperate to delve inside. To stroke her clit, her sex, to slip inside her and feel all that heat clench around me.  Except she freezes, her whole body going rigid against me as she pulls her mouth from mine.

“Ethan.”  She’s shaking harder now, but this time I’m afraid it’s from more than desire.  More than the need that continues to crawl through me.  She’s frightened and that wounds me in a way I don’t even know how to explain. 

                “It’s okay.” I stop.  Stop my hand from slipping into her panties, stop my body from moving against her own.  I even put a chokehold on the need that’s ripping me apart.  Because she’s what’s important here.  Doing this right, for her, is what matters. 

“I’ve got you, Chloe.”  I whisper the words in her ear, trying to soothe her—and myself.  “I’ve got you. Let me make you feel good. Nothing else. Just that.”

She doesn’t answer right away and I don’t make another move.  Not until I know that she’s okay and that she wants this as much as I do.  Despite her strength and her sassiness, there’s a delicacy to her, a fragility, that brings out every protective instinct I’ve got.  Yes, I want to fuck her, but I want to take care of her, too.  To cherish her.  It’s not a feeling I’ve ever had for a woman before, but that only makes it more powerful.  More overwhelming.

I know she’s thinking, can practically hear the wheels turning in her head.  I wait, patiently, for whatever she decides.  I want her so badly that my hands are shaking, but this is her choice and I won’t coerce her into doing what I want.  What I need.

Suddenly, she burrows closer and I feel her open to me.  Relief swamps me as she buries her head against my chest and I bring a hand up to cup the back of her head, to hold her in place even as start- once again—to stroke my fingers along her sex.

She clutches at my shirt, her whole body turning liquid against me even as she rests her head against the wall. She’s so beautiful like this, so fucking beautiful with her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed, with her eyes hazy and unfocused.  I want to stay like this forever, right here, with her wrapped around me and her need for me a wet heat on my fingers.

I kiss her cheek, her ear, her neck, as I stroke my way inside her panties and into the very heart of her.  She gasps, whimpers, starts to tremble in earnest.  I murmur soothingly to her, nonsense words that are meant to do nothing but calm her mind even as I stoke the fire inside of her.  She’s wet, so wet, and I’m dying to feel her come.  To feel her body clench rhythmically around my fingers, my tongue, my cock.

But that’s later.  This, right here, is about her.  About Chloe.  I slide my fingers along her slit, press one gently inside of her just to see how she’ll react.  She gasps again and I wait to see if she’ll accept me or if this is too much for her.

“Ethan,” she moans, hitching her leg up higher on my hip.  Opening herself to me more fully.

It’s the sign I’ve been waiting for and I press a second finger inside of her, reveling in her wet heat as she clenches around me. S he’s tight, small, and I’m careful with her as I curve my fingers and stroke them gently against her g-spot.

She cries out, clutches at me, so I do it again. And again. And again.  At the same time, I press my thumb against her clit and circle it gently, searching for the spot that brings her the most pleasure.

“Ethan.”  She says my name again even as her body clutches at me.  It nearly sends me straight over the edge.

 “God, Chloe, you feel so good.”  I want to feel her come, need it with an intensity that burns me straight to the bone.

“You too,” she gasps, her hips moving of their own volition now.  She’s riding my hand, arching into me, and I follow her lead.  Learn her body.  Find which spots and which kind of touch brings her the most pleasure.  She’s close, I know she’s close, but she won’t go over.  Won’t let me give her the pleasure I’m so desperate to.  There’s something inside of her, a resistance, a fear, that’s holding her back. 

I won’t have it.  Not now when she’s so close to climaxing, not now when she’s so close to me. I want so much more than her body. 

I want her desire, her trust, her need. 

I want her open to me.

I want her to need me the same way that I need her.  With everything inside of me.

I know I may be rushing her, but I’m determined to bring her off, to pleasure her, so I drop to my knees in front of her.  Shove her skirt up to her waist and push her panties aside.  Before she can do more than clutch at my shoulders, I put my mouth right on the heart of her. 

I plunge my tongue inside her sex, stroking deep inside her as the scent and taste of her arousal nearly drive me mad.  She tastes so good, feels so good.  I want more.  Need more. 
                I grab her leg, the same one she had wrapped around my waist just a little while ago, and drape it over my shoulder.  She’s wide open to me now, totally vulnerable.  And in these crazy, burning moments, she’s totally mine.  Exactly as I want her to be. 

I crave her. Crave her body, her sex, her mind.  Crave everything that she’ll give me.  Crave everything that she is.  I need her to crave me the same way.

I lick across her clit, then back to her lips, fluttering my tongue against her one minute and then pressing firmly the next.  She whimpers, moans, begs, words falling out of her mouth that make no sense except that they tell me she wants me.  Needs me.

I quiet her with a low growl, determined that Chloe will trust me in this.  That she’ll let me take her over the edge of pleasure into oblivion.  She bites her lip, tangles her fingers in my hair and pulls me even closer.  It’s what I’ve been waiting for—her surrender and her trust—and I take instant advantage.  I pull her clit into my mouth, suck at her for one second, two, even as I thrust my fingers deep inside of her.

That’s all it takes.  With a shudder and a shout, she tumbles over the edge into an orgasm that goes on and on and on.  As she comes—as her body clenches rhythmically against my fingers and my mouth—an overwhelming tenderness wells up inside of me.  For this woman, this girl, who has somehow managed to wrap herself around my head and my heart in such a short time.  This woman whose hold on me is growing with every touch, every kiss, every moment that passes. 

Control: Part Three :)

Hi Everyone!  Thanks so much to all my fans and all the amazing bloggers out there who helped make
Ruined's release day so freaking unbelievable!  You guys are the best!!!!!  Seriously, the best :)  One of my favorite review quotes so far comes from Under the Covers, who says, "Ethan is everything I wanted Fifty and Gideon to be."  Woo-hoo!!!!

Today, here's the third part of Control, the outtake from Ruined that is in Ethan's POV.  Hope you like it!!!!

Excerpt from Control:

The question hangs in the air between us.  It has so many layers, so many levels, that she’s having a hard time sorting them all out.  I want to help her, to tell her that I mean every single one of them.  But she won’t believe me.  It’s in her eyes, in the way she’s holding her body like she’s poised for a blow.

I rub my thumb over her inner elbow in an instinctive need to soothe, angling my body so that I’m curved around her though we aren’t actually touching.  For a second, it looks like she wants to curl into me, wants to give up on the resistance and just let me hold her the way I’m dying to. 

But then she stiffens, her spine going ramrod straight.  “I need to go.”

She doesn’t move away, though.  Doesn’t try to disguise the huskiness of her voice or the trembling of her hands. 

I tighten my hand on her elbow to steady her, to let her know that I’m right here and that it will be okay.  That she can trust me.  And then I pull her closer until her soft breasts are against me, her lush hips cradled against my throbbing dick.  It’s a gamble, letting her see how much I want her, but I don’t want to hide anything from her.  Not when I have a feeling this thing between us is going to be more than I’ve ever imagined. 

I hold her eyes with mine as long as she’ll allow, but then she shakes her head, looks away.  I feel a wrenching deep inside me.  She’s standing right in front of me, but she’s disappeared inside herself until it feels like all I’m holding is air.

“Where’d you go?” I ask, leaning forward until my mouth is only centimeters from her ear.  I want Chloe back, want her hear with me.

Her breath catches in her throat, and she sucks in a gulp of air, shakes her head as if to clear it.  “I’m still here.”

“I want you, Chloe.” No need to beat around the bush.  Not here.   Not now.  Not in this.  I skim my mouth across the satiny skin of her cheek, down her jaw. “And I think you want me, too.”

Again, she shakes her head, but this time it’s more acknowledgment than denial, and we both know it. “Ethan—”

The thrill of those two syllables on her lips has me pulling back, grinning at her.  “You said my name again. That’s progress.”

She arches her brows. “Most guys wouldn’t consider that progress.”

“I’m not most guys.”

 “Yeah, right. I’ve heard that before.”

She’s teasing me, actually teasing me. It’s even better than I expected it to be and I laugh, something I seem to do a lot around her.  “That didn’t sound nearly as clichéd in my head.”

“Really?”

“Or maybe I just didn’t think it through well enough.”

“Yeah, maybe not.”

“Since we’re on the subject of clichés, we could try another one.”  This time I’m the one to lift a brow questioningly.

“I have to admit, I’m a little jealous. I’ve always wanted to know how to do that.”

“What?” I’m baffled, thrown off my game by the abrupt twists and turns of her mind—and our conversation.

But then she’s reaching out, stroking a hand over the eyebrow I just raised.  It calms me down even as it sends heat rampaging through me. 

“That whole one-eyebrow thing. It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

“Oh, yeah? Maybe I’ll teach you someday.”

“I’d like that.”

We’re close now, even closer than we were just a minute ago, and she’s not moving back.   No, she’s pressing into me, her sweet body flush against mine. It’s all I can do not to press her down onto the couch and do everything imaginable—everything I’ve been fantasizing about for two days—to her.  But she’s nervous.  I can see it, feel it, all but smell it coming off of her in waves.  So I figure I should probably start with a kiss.  Just a kiss.

I lower my head slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull back.  To call a halt to the kiss though I’m dying to get my lips on her.  Dying to taste her.  She’s so close that I can see the freckles on the bridge of her nose, can feel her body trembling against mine.  I can hear the hitch in her breathing, smell the sweet strawberry scent of her breath.

It’s not enough.  I want to taste her.  Need to taste her.

I close the last little gap between us, brush my lips gently against hers. Once, twice, then again and again. Little glancing kisses that do nothing but stoke the flames deep inside of me, nothing but make me want more. Make me want everything.

She kisses me back, parting her lips in an open invitation that I’m dying to take.  But I don’t want to rush this, rush her, so I continue with the soft, gentle kisses—on her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth, her upper lip, her lower lip, the other corner of her mouth.  She’s delicious, amazing, and I want to savor every part of her.  To explore everything that Chloe is.

She moans deep in her throat, slides her hands up my arms to rub at my shoulders before walking them slowly up my neck. It’s my turn to groan a little as heat whips through me, and this time when I take her mouth, it’s no light, glancing thing. It’s a full-fledged kiss, one that sends need slamming through me.  I harness it ruthlessly, determined to make this good for her.  Determined to show her how it can be between us.

I nip at her lower lip, and she opens to me.  This time I take instant advantage, my tongue stealing inside to explore.  I’m careful not to rush her, not to demand everything she has to give.  Chloe needs to be coaxed, seduced.  The last thing I want is to startle her into running.

I slide the tip of my tongue gently against hers, circling slowly, slowly, slowly. Licking along the top of her tongue, then the bottom before moving on to the inside of her cheek, the roof of her mouth. I play with the tender frenulum between her upper lip and my gum, careful to only bring pleasure.  Triumph wells up inside me when she shudders, her hands coming up to tangle in my shirt.

I cup her face, tilt her head this way and that so I can delve deeper. So I can find out all of her secrets, everything that she is.  I expect her to pull back, to protest the intimacy and the obvious possession in my touch.  But she doesn’t.  Instead, she welcomes me in and for a few, sweet moments, gives me everything that I ask. 

She tastes like she smells, like strawberries and honey and sweet, sun-warmed flowers.  Rich, decadent, delicious.  I want more, am desperate for it.  I want all of her.

Need, powerful and overwhelming, shoots through me as she slides her fingers into my hair and pulls me more tightly against her.  It’s an unexpected move, and a welcome one.  She’s the aggressor now, the one deepening the kiss and the contact between us.  And while I normally like to be in control, in this moment I’m more than willing to yield to her.  To give her whatever she needs as long as it means she’ll stay right here in my arms, where she so obviously belongs. 

There’s a wariness about her normally that’s gone now and I revel in that fact.  I want her to feel safe with me, to feel secure enough to let me in—and to take me the way I’m so desperate to take her.

She moans again, and I wrap my arms around her, pull her closer as her tongue strokes along the edge of my bottom lip, then my top one.  She teases the corners of my mouth and it takes every ounce of control I have not to seize control from her.  There’s so much I want from her—so much I want to give her and take from her—that it’s a raging ache inside of me.  I want to push her against the nearest wall and thrust into her, want to slide down her body and put my mouth on her sex, want to turn her around and take her from behind as I pet and shape and spank that gorgeous ass of hers.

But she’s not ready for that yet—I can feel the nervousness just underneath the desire.  The vulnerability underneath the passion.  Knowing that, feeling it, helps me stay in control even as she nips at and licks and explores every inch of my mouth.   And then, when I’m least expecting it, she slides a hand between our bodies, runs a thumb over my left nipple as she thrusts her tongue deep inside my mouth.

The last string on my control stretches out, frees me a little from the stranglehold I’ve got on myself, and I’m moving fast, shoving her against the wall as I plunder her mouth.  She arches against me and I grab her leg, lift it and wrap it around my hip so I can be closer to her. So I can feel her wet, intoxicating heat against my dick.

I stroke her thigh, pause at the sensitive flesh on the inside of her knee when I feel her shudder against me.  She clutches at me, arches into me and all I want is to bring her pleasure.  To make her as crazy as she’s made me.  I groan, my hand clenching on her thigh.  I’m careful not to press too hard, not to hurt her though there’s a part of me that wants to bruise her just a little.  To leave marks so that everyone knows that Chloe is mine.  That she belongs to me.

Her hands are back in my hair, tugging, pulling, claiming as the kiss goes on and on and on.  She’s panting now, making soft, desperate sounds in the back of her throat as her body shakes and shudders against mine.  I’m half insane with the need to take her now.  To claim her.  She’s mine and the sooner she—and the rest of the world—know it, the better.  

Ruined is Out Today!!!!

Yay!  I'm so excited-- Ruined is out today.  I feel like I've been waiting for this book to come out forever and I'm thrilled that release day is finally here.  Continuing with what I started yesterday-- and for those of you who are done with Ruined already and are asking for more-- here's the second part in Control, the novella I wrote from Ethan's POV.  Hope you enjoy :)  And to everyone who helped make release day so great for me-- and to everyone who has bought the book already-- thank you, thank you, thank you.

Part 2: Control

She raises her brows, looks down her nose at me.  “Pretty sure.”  But her voice shakes, just a little.

It’s the sign I’ve been waiting for.  I lean closer, until I’m in her space.  Not enough to really crowd her, but more than enough that she knows I’m her.  “I don’t think you are.”

“Oh, yeah?”  An obviously faked yawn this time. “What makes you say that?”

“I can see your pulse right here.” I reach over, runs my fingers lightly over the hollow of her throat.  Her skin feels like silk and suddenly I’m dying to know if she feels like that all over.  “It’s beating fast. That’s a big sign that someone isn’t telling the truth.”

“Don’t get too excited.  I’m just nervous.”  But she leans into me, her upper body arching into my hand.

I trace a soothing circle on her collar bone.  “Do I make you nervous, Chloe?”

“You’re my boss. Of course talking to you makes me nervous.”

My jaw clenches at her obvious attempt to derail this thing growing between us.  “Why do you always have to do that?”

“Do what?” She shifts a little but doesn’t move away.  She doesn’t move closer, either.  Instead, she stays where she is, legs primly crossed and eyes blazing with a heat that scorches me to the bone.

“Why do you have to bring everything back to the fact that I’m your employer?”

“Because you are. The power dynamics at work here are a pretty big issue whether you want to admit it or not.”

                The words—and the sentiment behind them—freak me out enough that I drop my hand, sit back.  Crowding her when I know she’s interested is one thing.  Messing with her if she feels like she can’t say no is another thing entirely.  Just the thought that I might be making her uncomfortable in a harassment sort of way makes me sick to my stomach. 

“Have I misunderstood?” I ask when I can speak through the horror. “Am I overstepping my boundaries?”

“Well, duh. I thought I made that clear earlier.”

 “I’m sorry. I thought I made it clear earlier that your internship is completely safe. No matter what happens or doesn’t happen between us, you’ll never have anything to worry about on that front.”           I start to stand up, to back off as completely as I can.  The last thing I want to do is make her feel like she can’t say no.

But she reaches out, rests a hand on my knee.  It’s the first time she’s touched me voluntarily and it feels good.  Probably better than it should considering our current conversation.  But then she says, “Jesus, Ethan, I didn’t say I thought you were sexually harassing me. I said that you’d overstepped your bounds when you went to my boss and gave me the best assignment. I don’t need your favors. Especially when they end up causing me nothing but grief.”

The obvious annoyance in her voice relaxes me as nothing else can. She’s not afraid of me and that’s all that matters.  Still, I want her to understand the truth, to know that she has nothing to worry about on that front from me.  And I also want her to know that I value her work very much, and will  no matter what happens between us.

“You’re wrong about why you got that assignment, you know.”

“Oh, really? So you’re saying I got it on my merits?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” I meet her disbelieving gaze levelly. “I told you, I read your file last night. I was incredibly impressed, not just with your grades but with the paper you submitted with your application. On intellectual property.”

“I know the one.”

“I was fascinated,” I tell her truthfully. “The argument you made was original, well researched, and well thought out, and also happens to be exactly what I believe about those cases and that particular issue.”

She looks like she wants to believe me, but just can’t. “It’s not a popular stand. In fact, I nearly didn’t submit that paper at all because I was afraid it would work against me.”

“But you did submit it. And while your opinion varies even from that of my chief counsel, it dovetails nicely with my own. If I hadn’t met you, I might not have given you the Trifecta merger based solely on the merits of that paper, but I would have seriously considered it. Having met you and been impressed by both your intellect and your spirit, it was a no-brainer. I’d decided to request that you do the research for the merger even before I saw you this morning.”

She studies me, and I’m pretty sure she’s trying to decide if she can believe me.  I try to look as trustworthy as possible—not because I’m trying to fool her, but because I’m being honest.  And because  want her to have faith in herself, to realize just how smart and strong she really is.  It takes guts to turn in a paper like that when she’s trying to get an internship.  Hell, it takes guts to write it in the first place and I am very impressed.  Would be even if I hadn’t spent last night staring at the ceiling and imagining what it would feel like to have her legs wrapped around me while I plunge inside of her.

 “Do you mean it?” she asks, after thinking over my words. “You think I’m good enough to do this project?”

“My company wouldn’t be as successful as it is if I was in the habit of putting incompetent people into positions that matter, Chloe. I don’t know how many other ways to say it.”  I look her straight in the eye as I answer her questions.

She smiles and it’s radiant.  Gorgeous.  “Thank you for giving me the shot.”

“You look like you swallowed the sun.”

“I feel like I did. I promise I’ll do a good job on the project.”

“I have no doubt.” I get serious again as I remember her earlier words. “But what’s going on over there? You said you’re having problems with the other interns?”

 “It’s no big deal. I can handle it.”

The thought that people are messing with her—even though I know she can handle it—pisses me off. “What exactly do you have to handle?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“You sure about that?” I push, because I want to know.  And because I want her to trust me.

“Positive.” I push to my feet. “Thank you for your time. I won’t keep you.”

I reach out, snag her elbow. “What if I want to keep you?”