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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ASH

T he next morning felt like waking up to a dream. It started slow, with Ethan soft and pliant in bed. He kissed me awake, and within ten minutes, I was back inside his body. He let me hold his wrists again, and I kept it going for the better part of an hour, in no rush to end it for either of us.

Afterward, as we caught our breaths, I dipped my toes back into reality, checking my messages from Aria. Even so, I allowed myself to be as affectionate as I wanted. I pulled Ethan into the shower with me, taking my time to wash every inch of him. My hands worked through his hair, and I kept him close, savoring the quiet intimacy.

We had room service delivered, and as Ethan settled into the chair beside me, I tugged his legs onto my lap, draping them over mine. I sipped my coffee, my hand lazily caressing his skin while I checked emails. Ethan kept shooting me curious glances, his lips twitching like he was suppressing a question. I met his gaze with nothing but smiles, letting the comfortable silence linger between us.

Aria helped me rearrange my schedule for the week, giving me as much free time with him as possible. By lunchtime, we picked Ethan up, and I took him shopping. He teased me mercilessly about my “shopping addiction,” laughing as I searched for things I knew he’d like. It didn’t escape my notice that he still wore my bracelet every day. While he wasn’t looking, I ordered a custom-made gold chain for him, set to be delivered to New York.

Back at the hotel, arms full of shopping bags, Ethan was already itching to head out again. He was relaxed, happy—his smile easy and effortless, such a stark contrast to the day before. I found myself constantly trying to pull more of them from him, drawn to the way he lit up.

Every time I took a work call, Ethan listened intently. He’d been doing that for a while now, but lately, something had shifted. He wasn’t just curious—he was invested . He asked sharper questions, challenged ideas, even offered insights that were surprisingly on point. It never failed to amaze me how quickly he picked up on things, how naturally he understood the way power moved through business.

It wasn’t just casual interest.

I could see it, even if he hadn’t fully admitted it to himself yet—he was starting to piece together what he wanted for his own future. And I had a feeling my world, the one he was slowly learning to navigate, had more of a pull on him than he realized.

The next couple of days followed the same rhythm—easy, full of laughter, filled with us . And I could say with certainty that I had never been as happy as I was in those moments with him.

* * *

Henry arrived on Saturday, and even though I was a little reluctant to share him, Ethan was happy to see him.

We went out for drinks in the early afternoon, and I watched them chat animatedly, passing around Ethan’s vape, while I wrapped up work calls.

“Just bars and restaurants,” Ethan was saying as I hung up.

“What was that?” I asked, setting my phone down and lacing my fingers with his.

“I asked if you’ve been to any clubs,” Henry said, taking a drag and glancing at our joined hands.

“I do that for you, not for my idea of fun,” I replied dryly.

Henry chuckled. “Well, then do it for me again,” he said, widening his eyes dramatically. “It’s corporate espionage.”

I turned to Ethan. “Do you want to go, darling?”

Ethan looked back at Henry with a smile. “Sure.”

Henry gave us a puzzled look. “I’ll make some calls,” Henry said, pulling out his phone. “We could hit a couple of places.”

“Whatever you like,” I said, lighting a cigarette and pressing a quick kiss to Ethan’s hand.

“You know what I’ve never done?” Ethan said suddenly.

“What?”

“Gone to a gay club.”

Henry snorted. “Figures. Fair warning, Spanish men are far more aggressive than Americans, and you look like bait.”

“He’ll be with us. It’s fine,” I said dismissively.

When Ethan excused himself to find the restroom, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Henry gave me a pointed look.

“What?”

“Nothing. You keep surprising me, that’s all,” he said with a shrug.

“With Ethan?”

He nodded emphatically. “I thought you had it bad before, but it’s nothing compared to now. Did you give up on your time frame?”

I hesitated. “No…”

“That sounded convincing,” he quipped sarcastically. “Did something happen?”

“We had a bad fight.”

“So this is you trying to make it right? It was on you this time?” he asked, setting his phone down to look at me intently.

“Yes and no. The fight was my fault, but it’s not about that,” I explained, and he waited. “I really like him, Henny. This is the first time I’ve connected with someone like this,” I said softly, watching his eyes widen. My gaze drifted to Ethan, making his way back to the table. “I just want to make the most of it while I still have him.”

Ethan sat down, looking between us with a chuckle. “What?”

Henry was still staring at me, slack-jawed. I cleared my throat, and Henry shook his head, snapping out of it.

“I found the place. Let’s get another round, shall we? The night is young,” Henry said, downing his drink.

* * *

We went to a couple of bars before it was late enough to hit the clubs. Henry saved the biggest one for last, and as we walked inside, Ethan laced his fingers with mine. He had stayed close to me all night, but the moment we stepped into the pulsing, crowded space, I noticed a flicker of nervousness in his expression. His eyes darted around, then back to me, looking for reassurance.

It didn’t take long to realize what he was uneasy about—it wasn’t the possibility of anyone getting too aggressive with him. It was us. Being here, together, in a space where possibilities seemed endless. I caught the way he looked up at me as we walked, like he was making sure my eyes were still on him.

I tried to contain my smile, moving closer to him to leave no room for doubt. My arm brushed against his as I tilted my head down to murmur near his ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Henry worked his magic once again, securing us a table that gave us a little breathing room. Ethan sat close to me, his gaze darting around as he took it all in. I draped my arm over his shoulder and tilted his chin gently up to mine.

“Have I told you how great you look tonight?”

A playful smile stretched across his lips, his eyes bright as he leaned closer, his hand warm on my thigh. “Am I like your trophy in this crowd?”

“In every crowd, my darling,” I replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah, but in here—” Ethan leaned in closer, his breath brushing my ear as he added with a wicked grin, “—you really are. My daddy.”

My head dropped back briefly as Ethan burst out laughing, thoroughly amused by his own antics.

“You need to stop with that,” I told him, my tone half warning, half exasperated.

“Not a chance,” he said, still laughing.

I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss, cutting off his laughter. Ethan melted into it, his lips parting against mine, his hand tightening on my leg.

“You’re going to cause an uproar if you keep that up,” Henry called out, his voice carrying over the music.

We broke apart, both of us turning toward him.

Henry set a bottle down on the table, pouring himself a drink as he leaned in toward me. “Careful with the attention, Ash.”

I gave him a nod, and the three of us settled into the rhythm of drinks and conversation. After a while, I noticed the faint flush creeping up Ethan’s cheeks and the way his smile lingered just a little longer. He was nearing the edge of tipsy, and I started spacing out his drinks.

Then he leaned in close, his hand tugging lightly at my collar. “Are you going to dance with me?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I’m not a fan of dancing.”

Ethan pulled back, his expression shifting to one of mock disapproval. “I can’t do this right if I don’t dance.”

I leaned back in my seat and caught Henry’s attention. He looked over, eyebrows raised in curiosity, and I gestured toward Ethan.

“Are you serious?” Ethan asked, laughing as realization dawned.

“Ethan wants you to take him dancing, Henny,” I said.

Henry laughed as he stood, extending a hand to Ethan.

Ethan shook his head at me but took Henry’s hand anyway, letting him lead him toward the dance floor. He glanced back over his shoulder, and I met his gaze with a grin.

I watched him move. He and Henry were talking and laughing, Ethan occasionally turning back to catch my eye. As the music took hold, his movements became more fluid, his body relaxed, and his smile lit up the room.

Ethan was mesmerizing. A diamond in the rough, still unaware of just how much he shone. Watching him dance—free and unguarded, the way he bit his lip and let himself feel the music—I saw every set of eyes on him, just as fixated as mine.

He had everyone in the room under his spell.

A couple of men tried to approach Ethan and Henry after it became clear they weren’t together. Ethan handled it with effortless grace, offering polite smiles and shaking his head. Even that was mesmerizing to watch—the way he carried himself with such ease. After it happened a few more times, Ethan glanced my way before walking over.

He reached for my hand. “Come dance with me.”

I shook my head.

“Come on, Ash. Please.” He took a step back, jutting out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. He looked so damn precious I had to take a steadying breath. Still, I shook my head again.

Ethan rolled his eyes, stepping closer this time. He climbed onto the couch, kneeling over my thighs, and tilted my face toward his with his hands. His lips crashed into mine, hungry and demanding, and I couldn’t help but smile against his kiss, following his lead. When he pulled back, he grabbed my hands and placed them firmly on his waist.

“Come on,” he murmured, his breath brushing my ear. “Take me dancing. Isn’t that, like, a prerequisite for sugar daddies?” He leaned back, biting his lip with a teasing grin.

I groaned, half in amusement and half in surrender. “I’ll dance with you if you promise to stop calling me that.”

Ethan’s laugh rang out.

With a sigh, I let him pull me to my feet. His entire face lit up in triumph, and I followed him reluctantly toward the packed dance floor. Henry caught sight of us and smirked before turning back to the guy he’d been chatting with.

Ethan started dancing effortlessly, swaying to the rhythm, and I tried to mimic him, though my movements felt awkward and stiff.

Ethan’s eyes widen in comic disbelief. His face filled with unrestrained glee as he tugged me down by my shirt. “Sebastian, what the fuck?” he said through a laugh.

I sighed again. “I told you—I don’t dance.”

“I can’t believe it. You’re bad at this. You’re actually fucking bad at something. This is too good,” he said, still laughing, his delight contagious.

“Can I leave now?” I deadpanned, but Ethan only pulled me closer.

“No. I want to dance with you, even if you’re crap. It’s not about quality, it’s about you,” he insisted, his voice softening.

And just like that, he had me.

I let myself go along with it, indulging him, and Ethan lit up with joy. He kept trying to guide me into his rhythm, laughing every time I missed the beat.

“Holy shit. Look,” he said, wide-eyed, gesturing behind us.

I turned to see Henry making out with the guy he’d been talking to earlier. That familiar, uncomfortable pang twisted in my chest, but I pushed it aside, turning back to Ethan’s amused expression.

“What?” I asked, watching his grin stretch wider.

“A part of me thought he was lying,” Ethan admitted, his eyes flicking back to Henry. His grin turned mischievous. “It’s kind of hot.”

I frowned, but before I could respond, Ethan laughed and pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my neck. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he murmured in my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

About half an hour later Henry reappeared to say he was ready to leave. I agreed and grabbed Ethan’s hand, guiding him through the crowd. I knew the sight of us leaving together would draw attention, especially with Henry in tow, so I spotted a man with a cap, handed him some cash, and placed it on Ethan’s head. He shot me a questioning look, but I silenced him with a quick brush of my lips.

As we exited, I wrapped my arm around Ethan’s shoulders, keeping him close and shielding his face as we headed to the car. Henry, as usual, made no effort at subtlety, and his lack of discretion worked perfectly to keep the focus off Ethan.

Once we were back at the hotel, I got a real taste of Ethan’s hunger. It was staggering how much he had held back before now, only to transform into this insatiable, relentless version of himself. It was another thing we had in common—we could never get enough of each other.

After making a point, quite enthusiastically, about how consensual everything between us was despite the drinks he’d had, he stripped without hesitation. Climbing into my lap, he looked at me with that wicked, knowing smile, leaned in close, and demanded I take him right there on the couch.

But then, without any prompting, he slowed. He kissed me with a kind of intensity that left no room for distraction, and I matched him, savoring every sound, every taste of him. As I worked my fingers into his body, Ethan moaned into my mouth. I couldn’t get enough, couldn’t stop taking him in.

When he finally deemed himself ready, he reached back, steadying me with a sure hand before sinking down in one excruciatingly slow slide. Our eyes stayed locked, the connection between us as tangible as the heat coursing through our bodies.

He adjusted, his breath coming in shallow gasps, and his hands found their anchor in the hair at the nape of my neck. Foreheads touching, he began to move, rocking his hipswith an unhurried rhythm.

Ethan loved this—the closeness, the intensity, the way our gazes never broke. And I loved giving it to him.

Watching him—seeing the way he moved, hearing my name moaned from his lips as he surrendered to the pleasure surging through him—I was struck all over again by just how much Ethan was like fire.

He consumed every inch of me, claimed everything he touched until it was irrevocably his.

I couldn’t control him. He would never allow it.

And I found myself caring less and less about trying.