Easton’s gaze connects with mine in the mirror. Sweltering, but patient. My breath catches in my throat. He’s not going anywhere, but he’s also letting me determine the next move. Finally, I get a good hold on the zipper and pull it down.
“How do you do it?” His low voice hums in the lowest pit of my stomach.
The zipper stops, and the dress falls to my heels. “What do you mean?”
“When you think about me.” Quiet but rough. Strained calm. “How do you make yourself come?”
An exhale escapes me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to answer that. Of course, I know exactly how I make myself come, but standing in front of Easton’s reflection, the brave fa?ade I’ve maintained crumbles, leaving something shy in its place.
“Show me.”
Those two words vibrate between my thighs, and my eyes close. No one has ever wanted to just watch me before. Not without demanding something for themselves in return.
I open my eyes. “Just ... show you?”
The air shifts as he walks to the chair against the wall beside my bed. Raking a hand through his hair, he sits and rests his elbows on his knees. Then his gaze locks on mine in the mirror.
I’m in nothing but a black bra, matching lace panties, and high heels. Yet he’s looking atme. Nerves prickle beneath my skin, and the heat of his stare only intensifies the sensation.
“I saw you, touching yourself.”
My breath catches, and I grip the edge of the vanity.
“It was an accident, but, fuck, Eva ... I can’t get the sight out of my head. This time, I want you to show me because you want me to see.” His eyes soften, flicking between my own, and a spark of vulnerability filters through whiskey irises. “If you’ll let me.”
My pulse slips into my throat, and my voice is scratchy and quiet. “I thought we weren’t supposed to do this.”
“We aren’t.”
The words fall to the floor, and the heavy beat of my heart fills the silence.
Slowly, I turn around and step out of my dress. I swallow at the heavy-lidded look he’s giving me. I take a small step toward him, slip one bra strap off my shoulder. “What about Whitney?”
“What about her?”
Another step, another strap. “You haven’t slept together.”
He gives a slow shake of his head.
I’m in too deep to turn back now. At this moment, I don’t think I could survive watching the only boy I’ve ever ached for walk away from me. “Why not?”
His jaw ticks, and he glances away. When his eyes swing back to mine, they’re stripped raw. The roughness seeps into his voice like a match and gunpowder. “It’s not her I want, Eva. It’s not her I watch when I know I shouldn’t, or who I check on every night to make sure she’s safe. It’s not her I obsess over to the point my fucking head spins. I’m here because when everything seems like it’s falling apart, you, Eva, you’rereal. So goddamn real I could almost ...” He lets his eyes drift to roam down my body, and his words are pained when he finishes with, “Almost touch you.”
My heart melts into a warm liquid, leaving me helpless, breathless,throbbing.
I reach for the clasp on my bra. Easton’s eyes blacken as they follow the movement, and tension tightens the line of his shoulders.
With a quick flick of my fingers, my bra unhooks. The heated look in his expression intensifies tenfold as the material slips past my arms and drops to the floor.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. His gaze explores every inch of me in a long, deliberate caress. I’ve never been looked at like this, with such transparent reverence. Despite the feral hunger etched on his face, he doesn’t move to touch me. He doesn’t move at all. He’s so still, it’s like he thinks he has no right to come any closer.
Butterflies scatter through me, making me quiver.
“What now?” I whisper.
“Show me what you do next,” he says huskily.
I grow drunk on the intoxicating weight of his attention as I walk toward my bed, crawl onto the mattress, and roll to my back.
