Apprehended

Apprehended: Chapter Twenty-Three

I awoke the morning after New Year's feeling tired and unresolved.

So unresolved that sleep eluded me. Ethan woke before me, heading into the shower quietly. I waited patiently, yearning to discuss what we had the night before. No matter how much pain it caused, I wanted to know where we stood. For the moment, we weren't in a good place. I didn't want that streak to continue. Nor did I particularly like the idea of Ethan being unhappy. Though-at this point-I wasn't too pleased myself.

"Good morning," he said, exiting the bathroom. "Did I wake you?

I ran a hand through my knotted hair, catching his scent. He smelled of soap and shampoo. "No."

He moved to his dresser wearing jeans and a tee shirt. "I would ask if you slept well. But your eyes say otherwise."

"Yeah, well, it's hard to find rest after what happened."

There was a heartbeat of silence. "Indeed."

I glanced at the time. "Why are you up so early?"

"I called Baldridge first thing." He wrapped his hair up in a bun at his nape. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I said.

"Any nausea?"

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Well, you can't stay without eating," he said.

"I'm not hungry, Ethan."

He stared, resting his weight against his dresser. "Nonetheless, you must eat to stay healthy."

"Look," I said, pushing hair away from my face. "You don't have to."

"I don't have to what?"

"Hover. I'm fine."

"Can I not protect my mate? Can I not make sure that you are comfortable? That my young is safe and well cared for within you?"

I shrugged, remembering what he told me. That he wasn't angry, but he wasn't happy about it either. As if it were solely

my

fault. "Not when you don't want this," I blurted.

"I never said that," he barked.

"You said that you weren't happy," I reminded him.

"Don't misconstrue my words," he replied, folding his thick arms across his chest. "I worry, plain and simple. Just because I am concerned for your welfare and the welfare of my young does not mean that I don't want this. I just can't be one-hundred percent on board the fucking happy train knowing that there is a high potentiality of miscarriage or death, Luna. My concern for your safety above all else isn't simply going to vanish. It doesn't work like that. It isn't going to be replaced by feigned sentiments either. Do you understand?"

"I get that," I said in frustration. "But being upset about it isn't going to help me in the long run."

"Not upset," he amended. "Concerned. There is a difference."

"Yeah, well it comes off as rather upsetting."

"Because you twist my words," he shot back.

Ugh. This was getting us nowhere. "I don't want to argue, Ethan."

"On that, we agree," he said, pushing off the dresser. "Get up. Shower. Get dressed." He looked at his watch. "Baldridge said he would be here soon." He approached the bed and removed the quilt, offering me a hand.

I scowled. I couldn't help it. He was obnoxiously infuriating sometimes. A trait I was beginning to truly loathe. Like some sort of immovable, impenetrable force unwilling to bend beyond the limits of its reach.

He gave me a look. "Be angry with me all you want, Luna. But I will still take care of you even when you're impossibly vexed." He wiggled his fingers. "Come here."

I muttered under my breath and took his warm palm with shaky fingers. He pulled me up as if I weighed nothing, invading my space to press a kiss across my forehead. His scent wafted into my nose and I inadvertently leaned in, stopping short of nearly burying my face in his chest and wrapping my arms around him.

Ethan had an odd capacity to break down my defenses. Even at my angriest, he penetrated my barriers with ease. Now was no different. And a small part of me hated it. Hated the fact that he had me wrapped around his finger; easily pliable and swayed.

Only...I didn't need to close the small distance. Ethan did it for me, pulling me into his large, hard body and pressing me into his muscular chest. He threaded his fingers into my hair and we simply stood there, holding each other. No more words were exchanged. And all the irritation and dysfunctionality of our situation washed away as if they never existed. I sighed deeply, feeling so fucking tired, that sleep alone could not ease the fatigue within my being.

I inched just a little closer, allowing him to wrap his arm around me and hold me for however long we had. It didn't seem like enough. Not nearly enough. All too soon, he pulled away, taking his warmth with him. He grabbed my chin and lifted my head, my eyes meeting his.

I expected him to say something...anything. An apology. A shared I love you. Perhaps even a nudge into the bathroom to get me moving. But he didn't do that. He kissed me instead.

And what a kiss it was.

It was deep and filled with the pain of what took place. It was filled with the love he had for me...and the passion that burned my own body in a flame of need. I lifted my body up a little to wrap my arms around his neck, pulling as much of him as I close as I possibly could.

He followed on a growl, pressing me into his warmth until I could barely breath from the severity of his strength and need. God, he felt so good. His body was thick, wide and strong; blanketing me perfectly in his warmth and safety. He continued to kiss me thoroughly, his mouth tasting of toothpaste and mouthwash. My fingers delved into his wet hair, coiling and knotting the strands around my palm tightly until the bun at his nape spilled free and his glorious locks were on my knuckles...in my palms...in my nails and in my soul. I never wanted to let him go. No matter how angry I was. No matter how infuriating he was. He was mine as much as I was his.

But...

Then he stopped.

He pulled away slowly, his breath short and his chest heaving. He made a sound in the back of his throat. One of protest and I could tell that he wanted to continue just as much as I did.

"As much as I want to pleasure you right now, mea vita, you must get ready. Baldridge will be here in less than ten minutes."

I sighed heavily, feeling a bit grim...and needy. It felt like the beginnings of make-up sex. I wanted that. I wanted to close the metaphorical space between us. If not now, then definitely later. "Can we finish later?" I asked, my voice a little thick from desire.

He smiled. "I vow it." He tucked hair behind my ear and lowered himself to sweep me into his arms.

"Ethan!" I gasped, flying high into the air. I was

not

expecting that. "What are you doing?"

He tucked me into his body as he carried me to the bathroom. "Carrying you," he said. "Obviously."

"Obviously," I repeated. "The question is why? I am perfectly capable of walking."

"What if you accidentally slip?" he asked. "Or trip?"

I tried not to laugh, but failed. "Walking isn't that difficult."

He placed me on the counter near the bathroom sink. "Well, you must adjust to it. Because I'm going to be doing it most of the time regardless. I refuse to take any unnecessary chances when it concerns you and our young."

I watched him turn the knob on the tub to get the warm water flowing. He tested it, slipping the stopper over the drain to let it fill. When he was satisfied, he halted the flow and approached to pull my shirt over my head.

"Ethan," I said.

He continued to undress me.

"I can do this on my own," I pointed out. This was ridiculous.

He stopped, tossing my leggings in the hamper and slipping a warm hand in between my thighs. "I know you can, Luna. I know you are capable of independence. But I would like to clarify something." He settled in between my legs, my thighs opening wide to accommodate his large size. Then he cupped my face, lowering his head to brush his soft lips over mine. Teasing but not taking. "You are pregnant. With

my

young. Which means you will be well cared for. All day. All night. I will carry you. Feed you. Bathe you. Clothe you. And do anything and everything you need to see that you are satisfied. To see that you are healthy. To see that you are safe and protected. You're simply going to have to deal with it," he finished, taking my mouth in another kiss.

A kiss that made me gasp as he slipped his tongue into my mouth with a greed that border-lined on the desperate.

And I quaked with the need to finish what we started.

"Can we do it quick?" I asked in between hot, wet kisses. God, I needed him more than I needed air to breathe. The anger had been replaced with the desire to make sweet, passionate love. To wash away the hurt and that pain. Which was not all that healthy, but at this point? I didn't really give a shit.

He laughed, his deep voice like satin. "That depends," he said.

I pulled away, looking into his golden eyes. "On what?" I asked breathlessly.

In an instant, he fell to his knees, not answering my question as he pressed against my inner thigh to widen my legs.

Rrrrriiiiiiippppppp.

My panties disintegrated, tearing down the middle and falling to pieces like ash. Warm air brushed against my core, the shock of quick exposure making me tremble and shake. With every passing second, I grew greedy for him. I was raw, wild and unhinged.

Ethan moved in between my legs, his broad shoulders sliding underneath my thighs to hold my weight as his head settled near my aching center. His eyes examined my folds. He snarled, his upper lip lifting to reveal his fangs.

I swallowed hard, my breathing harsh and loud in the bathroom.

Then Ethan answered my question, blowing a tantalizing flow of hot air against my core. "It depends on how wet you are, my female."

I groaned, aching for more.

Though his mouth and face were close, he didn't move. He simply stared at my desire, blowing lightly against me and driving me wild. "Are you wet for me, my Luna?"

I nodded. "God, yes, Ethan."

Son of a bitch. Never had I wanted him more. He was beauty and sex personified: a golden male with the body of a sexual predator. And I wanted all of him.

He inhaled my scent, growling deeply. "You certainly smell wet," he murmured. "You look soaked too." He blew against my lips again. "Shall I find out how wet you are, baby?"

"Yes," I moaned. "Yes, Ethan, please." I was breathing so frantically, I grew a little dizzy. He made me shiver. He made me lose myself to him. All cohesive thoughts no longer existed. Clarity no longer existed.

It was only us; sharing our bodies in the wild throes of passion.

"That's going to require me to taste you," he said, inching closer...closer...closer.

I moaned again, unable to take it any longer. "Yes, Ethan."

"I may devour you," he warned, his voice dark and heavy.

I felt a light brush of his lower lip against my own and I jerked, nearly orgasming. "Do it... please," I begged. "Please, Ethan...please."

He didn't need to be told again.

His mouth opened quickly, his tongue momentarily exposed as it slipped from his mouth...and slid deeply into my hot, wet walls. His lips closed over my core, forming a tight seal as his tongue bottomed out, filling me completely.

The stroke was so powerful and sure. So deep and fulfilling.

That I came.

Instantly.

All over his tongue.

His eyes closed on a vibrating groan as I fell apart. His tongue remained inside of me and I contracted around it violently. Ethan made a sound; an audible murmur of appreciation.

Then he was swallowing.

He drank me greedily, grabbing my hips to hold me in place during the sweet and violent orgasm. His fingers bit into my flesh, squeezing and restraining. The sight of him in between my legs with his mouth sealed over my core had me crying out and the sound of his swallowing only intensified the need for more. The need for his body to move in time with mine. The desire to join us no matter how long it took.

I found myself pooling, my wetness exploding forth and flowing into him. I wanted more of him. I wanted all of him. I imagined him entering me, his body connecting with mine and filling me to capacity with his length and girth. I imagined his deep strokes, pressing against my walls and making me tremble.

Then I imagined his release...blowing into me until I was bursting with him.

And I couldn't take it anymore.

It consumed me; the thought of having him release in me blocking out all else, rendering me a narrow-minded entity with one goal and one goal alone.

I all but yanked my core from his mouth and tongue, gasping at the sudden retreat and emptiness without him as I shifted.

"I wasn't done drinking you, female," Ethan snarled, his eyes filled with desire.

I shook my head back and forth, losing myself to the need. I sat up straighter and grabbed his arm to pull him in. He cleaned his mouth with a few fingers, sucking them deeply into his mouth to finish tasting me. He growled. "You are honey," he drawled, licking his swollen, moist lips.

I nearly orgasmed once more.

He moved closer, his bulged jeans brushing against my center and breaking the little restraint I had remaining. I sat up straighter and without warning, I unbuttoned his jeans and yanked the zipper roughly. I pulled forcefully at the material, slipping my hand to find him commando.

And deliciously hard.

I grabbed his thickness in my palm in desperation, using my free hand to pull his pants low enough to expose him.

"Oh fuck," he said, dropping his head forward to watch me.

His erection sprang free-proud and strong. Pink and swollen.

I gasped at the sight of his male glory. At the perfection of his gloriously smooth skin and defined muscles. Then I boldly pulled him forward by his shaft, directing him in between my legs.

He followed and I opened wide, releasing him to lean back against the counter-my back to the side of the mirror. I was so desperate, words tumbled out of my mouth like rain. "Take me, Ethan, please. God, take me now."

He gripped himself and let out a hiss, shoving his large body into me and spreading me even further. "Fuck yes, Luna," he growled, positioning himself at my entrance.

I arched, my eyes rolling into the back of my head, preparing for the penetration I craved. The penetration I would die without.

Ethan growled, rubbing his tip from bottom to top along the center of my lips, opening me...stretching me wide for him.

"Ethan," I said on a whimper.

"I know, baby," he whispered. "I know. I've got you. You know I do." He did it again and I nearly screamed. "I only want to coat myself in your honey, sweetheart. You're so wet, my female."

I swear I almost orgasmed again.

"Fuck yes, you are," he whispered. "You're dripping on me." He repositioned himself, gripping my hips and...

He slid in deep.

One stroke that had him immediately soaked and bottoming out in an instant.

"Jesus," he barked, breathing heavily.

I was lost to the sensation of fullness; my mind clocking out as the pleasure of having him within me took over everything else.

Then he moved.

Pulling out and nearly exiting. He groaned, his body shuddering with the same need. The same crippling desire.

Only to penetrate me once more, sliding even deeper than the first stroke.

I quivered like a wet leaf, on the brink of an orgasm so immense, I knew there would be no coming back from it unscathed.

It seemed Ethan was just as close, his pace quickening as his shaft penetrated and retreated. Penetrated and retreated in quick successions. As if he couldn't tolerate the slow pace anymore than I could.

His voice pierced the gasping and moaning, sounding hoarse and desperate. So desperate. "Goddamn it, Luna!" he all but shouted, his hips colliding into mine with force. "I can't hold back any longer. Come for me."

I shivered, yearning for it. Yearning for his release to cool and quell the intense heat of my aching need. The fire within my walls that burned to the point of pain.

What he said next was my ultimate undoing. And it had nothing to do with the need to find my own release. In fact it had everything to do with...

Ethan froze, sweating and shaking as his body tensed inside of me. As his rigid shaft burrowed as deeply as it could. "I'm coming," he murmured, squeezing my hips so tightly, I knew he was going to leave bruises.

But I didn't give a fuck.

He shut his eyes tightly, losing all control. Losing himself to the orgasm that raked his body. "Shit, I'm fucking coming."

Hot, wet, thick jets exploded within me, coating and cooling the heat within my aching core. The minute his release entered me, I orgasmed, contracting around his thickness and swallowing in his release.

Drinking him in.

Milking him.

I cried out and he sagged, shifting his grip to the counter to hold his weight. "Fuck!" he snarled. His fangs descended and he bit down on his lower lip hard, causing it to bleed. "Motherfucker...I feel you coming, Luna. Goddamn it, I feel you fucking milking me."

He lost it once more.

"You've got to be kidding me," he bit out, sagging even further. "I'm coming again." His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he nearly fell. However, he forced himself upright.

For me.

To hold my weight as we both fell apart.

"I'm fucking coming again," he whispered.

Never had I seen Ethan so lost to more than one orgasm; his body on the brink of a collapse.

And when it was over, we stood there. Frozen. With his body still within mine. He shook, his thighs going whoa-nelly as he was forced to slip free from my depths on a groan. He slumped forward, bracing himself on each side of my thighs with quaking arms.

"You okay?" he asked breathlessly.

I was floating on a fucking cloud. I smiled. "I'm fine...but...that was pretty-"

"Intense," he finished. He pushed off the counter unsteadily and stood up, his skin glistening in sweat. "It was pretty fucking intense." He offered me his hands, beckoning me. "Come, my female. Let's get you cleaned."

I took his hands lazily, getting higher than a kite as he lifted me from the counter. He didn't need to. "Ethan, no," I said, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

He stopped near the tub. "What's wrong?" he asked, his large body still trembling.

"I don't want a bath."

He laughed lowly. "Baldridge is coming," he reminded me. "I want you washed and covered." He made a move to place me in the water.

I held him tighter. "No, Ethan," I said, my voice shrill. I wasn't sure why I couldn't tolerate a bath. But the sudden sight of the water had me cringing.

There mere sight of it...the very

idea

that it could wash Ethan off of my skin...wash him away from me...

It was enough to make me physically ill.

And my mouth watered nastily.

I smacked at Ethan's shoulders in a panic. My mouth felt sour and I burped. "Ethan!" I nearly screamed. "Put me down! Put me down, put me down!"

"What is it?" he asked in instant concern. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

I didn't have enough time.

I hugged him tightly...

And puked over his shoulder, the vomit bursting forth like a waterfall. It fell on the floor in a splash, coating Ethan's legs and feet. His poor back and shoulder were also in the line of fire; the puke dripping down in nasty chunks along the length of his jeans-which were at his ankles- and tee shirt.

I heaved uncontrollably; the very thought of water making it worse. Of losing Ethan's scent on me. Of losing his release within me. Of losing any part of him that touched me.

It was completely and utterly ridiculous. But I couldn't stop myself.

Eventually, I was able to take a deep, shuddering breath and I sagged against Ethan, completely mortified...and exhausted. "I'm sorry," I said against him. "I'm so sorry."

He rubbed my back soothingly, holding me so tightly, I could barely breathe. "Don't apologize, Luna. Don't you dare apologize for being pregnant."