“But what if you get hurt? What if I hurt you?” It’s fucking stressful caring about another human.
His lips curve against my neck, and he returns to my mouth, pulling a long kiss from me. “You won’t. And, Eva, you should know, every word out of that mouth is only turning me on more.”
Warmth flares inside me, and I know I’m not going to last. I’ve already decided to give him more than he realizes, but the stubborn part of me makes one final, feeble plea. “I’m ...” He trails his lips down my throat again, and my thighs clench around him. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”
“Believe me, Eva. You are.” His exhale heats my neck, rough voice vibrates down my spine. “You’re taking such good care of me.”
Both hands still gripping my bare thighs, he moves his mouth along my collarbone, uses his teeth to lower the strap of my dress, then travels to the opposite side and does the same with my other strap. The dress slips, and his gaze darkens like night on the revealed portion of my black lace bra, the rapid rise and fall of my chest. Vulnerability crashes through me, and I wonder if he hears the chaotic beating of my heart. I wonder if he feels the endlessachelike I do. An ache that begs to be satisfied.
Maybe Google is overrated. Maybe essential oils and lavender baths and kale-pressed juice are so fucking far from who we are they deserve to be locked up in Bridget and Vincent’s ivory tower. And maybe ... maybe trusting my heart is enough.
“Easton ...” I breathe, drawing his focus upward. “I want ... I want you to show me what it’s supposed to be like. I’m ready to give you everything.”
His fingers dig into my flesh on the outsides of my thighs. He works his throat, studying my expression in that heady way he does. I thought once Easton’s golden-brown eyes were like a tornado, because they caught me when I was unprepared and didn’t release until they were done with me. I realize now how true that is. I was prepared for it this time, for his undivided attention, and it still raises goose bumps on my skin.
Finally, once my heart is about to beat out of my chest with anticipation, he stands up with my legs still wrapped around his narrow hips. “You’re sure?” Despite his uneven breathing, the possessive grip that’s traveled to my ass, his gaze softens on mine. “Remember ... once we do this, there’s no going back.”
I swallow, wrap my arms around his neck. And I let my words spill from the most honest part of me. “I don’t want to go back. I’m never going backward ever again.” He stares at me, taking in my certainty, and I realize what’ll prompt him into action. Leaning close, I whisper into his ear, “I have condoms in the nightstand. Take me to bed, Easton.”
His muscles tense against me. Then, he runs a hand up my back, curls it lightly around the nape of my neck, and brings my mouth to his. He kisses me deeply as he walks us to the bedroom, and my head spins so fast I’m light-headed. The roller coaster I was suspended on before he entered the hotel room drops, crashes, bursts into a million unspoken promises.
I’m still latched onto him when he lowers us onto the bed and my back touches the comforter. Propping himself on his forearms on either side of me, he pulls away from my lips to peer down at me.
“You ... you should be the one lying down,” I breathe.
He shakes his head. “Not yet.”
My pulse skips, breaths heavy, at the slow, deliberate way he slides his gaze down my body, as if he’s trying to memorize what I look like beneath him. The backs of my eyes sting, a rush of emotion hitting me.
I knew my past sexual experiences felt wrong. I knew all along it was supposed to be different. This past week, I’ve tried so many times to picture it, what my first time with Easton would be like—myrealfirst time. But how could I have pictured this? How could I know to imagine the slow part of his lips, the warm tickle of his breath, the soft, reverent burn in his gaze? No one ever told me the magic was in the details, or that those details would take my breath away.
Reaching up, I trail unsteady fingers along his jaw. His eyes fall shut, and when my thumb glides over his lips, he presses a kiss to my skin. The softest kiss I’ve ever felt.
“Eva ...” My name is hoarse on his lips when he meets my gaze with heavy-lidded ones. The soft burn I noticed behind whiskey intensifies into a warm glow. “I don’t want to scare you away. But I need ... I need you to know ...” His brows slant, and I recognize the desperation in his voice, the pleading. “I need you to know I’m in love with you.” He pushes out a shaky breath. “I’ve loved you since that night I left orange juice for you in my backyard, and I’m going to love you for the rest of my life. You don’t have to love me back, not yet, but if you’ll let me, I’ll love you better every day. I’ll love you enough for the both of us.”
A tear slips past my lashes. Something wraps around my chest, tight and permanent, and I think it might be happiness.
He waits, watches, hangs onto the silence until I speak.
“Six,” I finally whisper. Confusion crosses his expression, and I add, “You saidlovesix times,” as if that clarifies anything. “It’s been eleven years since anyone’s told me they love me, and in ten seconds, you’ve said it six times.”
He exhales, drops his forehead to mine, and shakes his head. A breathy chuckle fans my cheek when he says, “I’m just getting started.”
His mouth skims mine, and I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he dips lower. My heart thumps as he kisses my neck, my collarbone, between my breasts. He reaches up to pull my bra down slightly, exposing them fully, and I gasp when his tongue grazes my nipple. Then, he wraps his hot lips around it and sucks.
I shiver beneath him, my legs falling open, and he groans as he sinks between them. Even through our clothes, the heat and pressure of his erection against my panties combined with the wet lick and pull on my nipple sends my body into overdrive. My fingers find his hair, lips parting with my broken exhales. He moves to the other nipple, stroking and caressing, but just when my eyes start to flutter shut, his mouth disappears. My eyes snap open, and I watch breathlessly as he moves down my body until his face is between my thighs. He lifts my dress above my belly button, hooks his thumbs into the material at my hips, and drags my panties down my legs. Then he looks right at me—legs spread, completely revealed to him. The heat in his gaze makes me squirm, his closeness prickling my skin. I can’t imagine what it will feel like when he actually touches me.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited to taste you here?” he rasps, harsh breath stroking where I need him.
I tremble at the sensation. “I hope as long as I’ve fantasized about it.”
His nostrils flare, and he makes a low rumble of appreciation at my response. Then, without warning, he grips the insides of my thighs and drags his tongue along my slit. I draw in a breath, and before I can collect myself, he does it again. Only, this time, he stops when he reaches my clit and closes his mouth around it with a longpull. A burst of heat spreads through me, tightening my core, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes. He continues licking and sucking and pushing me to the edge, and with each hungry stroke of his tongue, pleasure pulsates deep inside me. He’s not the first to try this with me, but—my hips jolt up—holy shit, he is the first to make it feel good.
One of his hands on my thighs disappears, then I feel fingers, pressure, at my opening. My eyes fall shut when he slips a finger inside me, and the sensation reaches me so deep it sparks along my spine. When I start to grind against him, he groans against my clit and adds another finger. That’s all it takes to send me over. Heat rushes through me, drawing a delicious quiver from my core and rolling my eyes into the back of my head. He doesn’t stop until languid gratification warms me, and I sink into the comforter with heavy breaths on my lips and stars in my eyes.
I’m still coming down from the high when he places a tender kiss below my belly button. Then on my hip bone, and the other. A long sigh spills from my mouth, every touch from him a seductive caress. He pushes my dress up my stomach inch by inch, trailing soft kisses higher, higher. When he reaches my breasts, I raise my arms. He pulls the dress over my head and drops it on the floor. He gazes down at me, heavy-lidded, Adam’s apple bobbing as I reach behind me and unclasp my bra. A heady buzz prickles over my bare skin at that look, and I pull it off the rest of the way, letting it fall beside my dress.
My heart pounds, pulsing with the selfless desire to please him. To give him everything he’s given me.
