Page 88 of Claim to Fame

“But If I hadn’t—”

“We could go back and forth all day. I’m not letting you beat yourself up over this, Han.” His tone brooked no argument.

“Micah thinks some reporters might come here.”

She thought of the photo taken from her fire escape, the feeling that nowhere was safe or private anymore. She hated imagining the vineyard swarmed by paparazzi, yet another safe place turned upside down because she’d gotten herself in over her head. Why had she thought she could lie to the press in the first place? Why had she thought any of this was a good idea?

“Then we’ll deal with them together,” he said.

“If I left, they’d leave you alone.”

His eyes hardened, his features turning harsh. “Do you want to leave?”

“No, but I—”

“I’m not letting some assholes with nothing better to do than spread gossip all day take you away from me. We’ll figure it out.”

She swallowed back a sob. “How?”

“I don’t know, but we will. I’ll fix it.”

“Ethan—”

“I’m sure I can find a way to fix it.”

“Ethan, stop.” His eyes darted between hers, worry making them sharp and bright. “I’m scared.”

His breath gusted out of him, his eyes narrowing. “Of me?”

“No. Well, maybe a little.” He looked stunned and she hastened to add, “Of losing you. This is a lot for anyone to deal with and… You could break me, Ethan. You could devastate me in ways nobody ever has before.”

“You think I’d hurt you?” he asked, his voice lanced with pain.

“Not intentionally... I’m not afraid of the press, even though they keep finding new ways to blow up my life. But I am terrified of losing you.”

He kissed her, his lips slanting over hers with such urgency it nearly knocked her back, but she clung to him as she opened for him, kissing him back. She’d never tire of this, of his fingers tangling in her hair and his tongue sliding against hers, of the hum low in his throat when she pressed her hips against him and the feeling that, if she could keep kissing him, keep holding him, everything else would work itself out.

They parted on a gasp and he pressed his forehead to hers. “You’ll never lose me, Han.”

“I hope not,” she whispered.

“All I want is to make you happy, sweetheart,” he said in between kisses.

“We’ll make each other happy.”

He caught her behind the thighs and tumbled her backwards onto the bed where they landed with a startled laugh. “I’m gonna marry you, city girl. One day, when we’re both ready, I’m gonna put a ring on your finger.” He drew the finger in question between his lips, dragging his tongue over the digit.

“I’ve always wanted to be Mrs. Slade Hardcastle,” she teased, already feeling lighter.

Ethan threw his head back and laughed, the sparkle of his joy mixed with relief. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her sweatpants and tugged, shimmying them over her hips and down her legs. “You can call yourself whatever you want, as long as you’re mine.”

She didn’t have time to respond before his tongue hit her core, sliding between her lower lips. She dug a hand into his hair, lifting her hips towards his mouth and he hooked his hands around her thighs, holding her open as he lapped at her clit.

“Ethan,” she groaned, giving herself over to the heat gathering low in her belly.

“Christ, you taste so good,” he rumbled before diving back in, teeth and tongue and fingers driving her closer and closer to orgasm. “Tell me you love me, Han,” he demanded.

“I love you.”

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