Page 93 of Ethan: The Untouchable CEO

Why would I deny it now, when my hand is wrapped around him and his is buried between my legs?

“Admit that you’re holding back because it’s complicated,” he continues, his tone edged with amusement. “Because you’re afraid of what people would think if they knew you are sleeping with me—my employees, my brothers, our friends.”

Did I mention I hate him? No? Well, I do.

“If you want to come, tell me the truth,” he murmurs against my ear.

Another finger joins the others, his thumb massaging my clit before pulling back again, teasing, denying me, making me desperate for more.

My hand keeps moving over him, matching his rhythm, feeling him grow harder with every second that passes.

“Admit that you hate wanting me this much when all I can give you is everything except the fantasy of a family, or a future.”

His tongue drags from my ear down to my shoulder, his teeth grazing lightly before he soothes the spot with his lips, and I shiver uncontrollably, my body responding to his touch.

“Speak, Thalia,” he whispers, his voice low, commanding.

His scent wraps around me—woody, warm, with a hint of cinnamon and sea salt—clouding my thoughts, pulling me under.

Fuck it.

“Yes, Ethan,” I breathe, letting the words settle, heavy and undeniable. “I want you, and I hate wanting you.”

There’s no hesitation, no shame as I say it, only honesty.

My hand moves to his chin, pulling him closer until our lips are barely apart.

“I want you to fuck me. Now, and every time I see you—unless you do or say something to piss me off.”

With one final stroke, I release him and slide both hands to his waist, dragging his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion.

“You’re the opposite of everything I want for me,” I continue, holding his gaze without flinching. “And you offer the opposite of everything I think I need for a peaceful life, but wanting you is not something I can turn off.”

Then I close the distance and kiss him, pouring everything I’ve been holding back.

He wanted the truth.

Now he has it.

He groans low as his hands grip my ass, pulling me firmly against the edge of the table, and the faint crinkle of a condom wrapper barely registers before I feel him align with me and push inside, urgent, hungry, leaving me breathless.

The sensation is overwhelming, filling me completely, making it hard to think, to breathe, to do anything but feel.

How can something so wrong feel so right?

My arms wrap around his neck as I lift my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, needing more of him.

“You good?” he asks, already moving faster, his voice rough, strained.

I nod, leaning back onto my elbows, creating just enough distance to watch the way our bodies move together, my eyes locked on the rhythm, on the way he moves inside me.

I could come just from this.

“All good, Ethan,” I murmur, unable to look away.

His fingers slide under my chin, lifting my face until I’m forced to meet his gaze.

“I want you to look at me when I fuck you,” he says, his tone serious, grounded in control. “I want you to know exactly who’s giving you this pleasure.”