Chapter 46 You Ask For It
I was halfway through my punishment—ten squats down, ten to go—when Ethan's hands suddenly gripped my waist, stopping my movement. His expression darkened as his eyes met mine.
"Where did you learn that?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave.
The abrupt question caught me off guard. My body tensed, muscles tightening involuntarily around him. He let out a low groan, his fingers digging deeper into my skin.
"Relax," he commanded, delivering a quick tap to the small of my back.
I tried to lift myself off him, but he yanked me back down with unexpected force. His fingers captured my chin, forcing me to look at him.
"Answer me. Where did you learn that?" His voice was ice.
Fear made me reckless. Or maybe it was some self-destructive instinct to test his limits. Either way, I found myself deliberately provoking him.
"Who do you think?" I shot back. "I learned it from other men, of course. They taught me hands-on—"
Before I could finish, his hand clamped around the back of my neck. "Olivia, you're asking for it."
The car door flew open. Ethan lifted me out and pushed me against the side of the vehicle, my cheek pressed against the cool glass window.
"You bastard!" I cried, tears springing to my eyes.
His long fingers pressed harder, and he leaned close to my ear. "Tell me. Who taught you?"
I could only surrender. "No one! I saw it online. There was no one else."
Ethan shifted, propping one leg against the tire and gathering me onto his lap. The aggression drained from his movements as he gently wiped the tears from my face. He kissed the corner of my eye, his voice rough with emotion.
"Don't deliberately provoke me," he murmured. "Even if it's a lie, don't say things like that. Remember that."
"I will," I promised, my voice small.
That night, back inside his villa, Ethan showed me exactly how possessive he could be. By morning, I was grateful for the weekend break from classes, sleeping well into the afternoon while he worked from his home office.
---
For Halloween break, Ethan surprised me with a trip to Paris. We toured the Gothic architecture of Notre-Dame, admired masterpieces at the Louvre, and walked along the Seine at sunset. The ancient streets were adorned with carved pumpkins and mysterious decorations, adding a magical dimension to the City of Lights.
What surprised me most was Ethan's depth of knowledge about Renaissance art and world history. He guided me through each landmark with an eloquence that seemed at odds with his usual hard-edged businessman persona.
"You're different in France," I said, nestled in the crook of his arm as we watched the Eiffel Tower's lights shimmer against the night sky.
He kissed my forehead. "You're testing my self-control, saying things like that."
---
Back in Los Angeles, Ethan suggested we experience Halloween properly by walking the decorated streets of West Hollywood where the famous Halloween carnival takes place. He selected an elegant witch costume for me, while he opted for a simple but devastating vampire count ensemble.
Santa Monica Boulevard had transformed into a fantastical parade ground. Orange and purple lights illuminated the palm trees while elaborate decorations hung from every storefront. The air smelled of cinnamon churros and spiced rum as costumed revelers pushed past us.
"Stay close," Ethan murmured, his hand possessively at the small of my back.
I felt the weight of curious stares throughout the evening. A group of women dressed as cats whispered when we passed. A man in a zombie costume approached, offering me a drink that Ethan smoothly intercepted. With each interaction, I felt his grip tighten, his body positioning itself between me and the admiring gazes.
That night, back at the estate, he claimed me with an intensity that left me breathless—on the couch, in the shower, against the cool marble bathroom counter, and finally on the balcony under the stars, the ocean crashing below us until dawn broke over the horizon.
The weeks that followed settled into a rhythm. I spent my days sketching designs, working on pattern-making, and building my portfolio. I'd occasionally meet Grace for coffee between studio sessions, then return to my Westwood apartment in the evenings to wait for Ethan. The days passed quickly, peacefully.
---
For Thanksgiving, I used some of my scholarship money to buy Ethan a custom-made deep blue silk tie. I was nervous when I presented it to him, watching his face for any reaction.
"This is the most thoughtful gift I've ever received," he said, genuine surprise in his eyes. "What would you like in return?"
I shook my head. "You already give me too much. Those jewels and clothes—I can't even wear them all. But I've never given you anything. Your birthday is still far away, so I thought Thanksgiving would be a good occasion."
Ethan pulled me into his arms, looking deep into my eyes. "Liv, you don't need to try so hard to please me. You don't need to give me anything. You are my best gift."
I playfully smacked his shoulder. "Come on, do you want it or not? If not, I can take it back."
He laughed, the sound vibrating against my skin. "I want it. And I want you too."
In one swift movement, he lifted me high against him, making me squeal as my feet left the ground.
"Ethan! Put me down!" I protested, smacking his shoulders.
He carried me straight into the bathroom, closing the door behind us before setting me on the vanity counter.