I step back, touch the knob with my fingers. “Forget it. I’m being stupid.”
Fumbling with the door handle, I pause when he throws his comforter back and instructs, “Stay.”
I stare at him.
“Please.” It’s gentle and convincing.
My fingers slip from the knob. I move toward him and wipe my palms on my pajama shorts.
I’m the one who came here, who asked him. But he said “please” ... like he’s the one who wants me to stay. Like I’m the one doing him a favor.
I climb into his bed, his gaze on my skin. Lying on my back, my heart beats rapidly as I stare at the ceiling. A comforter is draped over me. It’s been warmed by his body, and it smells like him.
“I didn’t mean it,” I hear myself say. “What I said last night, before you left.”
“I did.”
I blink, turn my head to look at him.
He’s watching me, his face so close it’s nothing but hard lines, soft lips, and easy eyes. Butterflies dip low in my stomach, and I quickly look away again. If the lightning highlights his confidence so effortlessly, my uncertainty must flash in neon lights.
“What part?” I whisper.
“All of it.” His focus burns my skin, bringing heat to my cheeks. “Every word. Every second.”
My lips part, a rush of air escaping me. My pulse tap dances between my thighs.
His low voice skates across my skin. “Look at me, Eva.”
“Why?” I’m breathless. Apparently, I’m not the only one with the power to distract.
“Because you’re in my bed.”
Thump, thump, thump.
“Because I want to make sure I’m the only one in your head when you fall asleep.”
My eyes flutter shut as his words sink in.You’re the only one, I want to tell him.You’ve always been the only one. Slowly pushing my heavy eyelids open, I roll onto my side to face him, and Easton watches me carefully, one hand under his head.
He exhales, warm breath across my lips.
Our steady breath fills the room, deep and slow. The sounds are hypnotic. They console and soothe me because they’re Easton’s. They’re mine. They’reours.
Eventually, his eyelids start to lower. His breathing grows deeper. Mine follows suit, and my eyes shut. I start to drift away, my body melting into the comfort of his bed. Before I let the blackness pull me under, I whisper, “Thank you.”
A beat passes, and then another.
His voice is raspy when he mutters, “Goodnight, Eva.”
Easton
Ismell her first.
The scent of lavender on my pillow, in my sheets, my lungs.
My pulse picks up, and I slowly open my eyes. After Eva fell asleep, I lay there just staring at her. Hours passed before my blood cooled enough to drift off with her. We must have closed the distance in my king-size bed at some point in the night. Our foreheads touch. Our lips are so close I could brush hers with my own if I move half an inch.
Heat flares beneath my skin at the thought, reminding me of soft skin, parted lips, and the breathless sound of my name on her tongue when she came.
