He didn’t even know I was here. He didn’t see me.
All he saw was her.
But then his hand started reaching across the sofa in search of me, and the next thing I knew, he pulled away from Kristen and pushed her off, glaring at me.
I stopped breathing, realizing that he was pissed. He was really pissed.
He looked at me like I’d betrayed him.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, nearly in tears. “That was stupid.”
And I crawled back over into his lap, straddling him, ready to apologize.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” he barked, the vein in his neck bulging.
I shook my head, taking his face in my hands. “I don’t know,” I cried. “Just don’t let me go, okay? I shouldn’t have done that.”
And I kissed him softly, my whole body shaking with the sobs I tried to hold back.
I didn’t want to let him go. I was falling for him.
His angry breaths slowly calmed, and after a few moments, he wrapped his arms around me like a steel band and kissed me back.
I heard Kristen clear her throat next to us and then felt her shift off the sofa.
“Well, I’ll just excuse myself,” she said in a light tone, as if nothing had happened.
But then I felt her lean in and whisper in my ear, “And if you haven’t noticed, he’s in love with you, too.”
I gripped his jacket, not even hearing her walk away as I closed my eyes and saw only him.
TWENTY
EASTON
“
Y
ou messed up my books,” I commented, lying on my back on the floor of his study and gazing up at the bookshelves I’d so tirelessly organized a few weeks ago.
“Yes, I did,” he admitted without hesitation.
I wore one of his long white shirts with the sleeves rolled up and was supporting a glass of Scotch on my abdomen with my feet crossed.
“Did you do it on purpose?” I pressed.
“Yes.”
A smile spread across my lips, and I leaned my head up, taking a sip of the hearty liquid.
Christian was apparently spending the weekend with his grandfather across the lake, so Tyler brought me home with him from the club. It was one a.m., and neither one of us was the least bit tired.
I’d felt guilty about ruining our night out, but Tyler had said he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t like clubs anyway but had wanted to take me out.
After pulling me out of the club, he’d raced home, damn near getting into an accident on the way, and stripped off all of my clothes as soon as we’d gotten in the door. He’d carried me upstairs, my legs wrapped around his waist, and kept me good and occupied for more than an hour.
He’d gotten a few calls while we were busy, though, and since neither of us was sleepy, he’d come downstairs to take care of some business while I got drunk on his alcohol.
He stood behind his desk in gray lounge pants and no shirt, sorting through some papers.
“You’re not going to fix them?” he suggested.
I tapped the glass with my fingers, staring up at the hodgepodge he’d made of the books.
“I’m considering it.”
I heard his quiet chuckle. “Maybe you no longer need to be soothed,” he suggested. “Or maybe you found something else equally effective.”
“Cocky,” I shot back, teasing.
But actually, he had a point. A few weeks ago, those books, sitting there out of order, some facing the wrong way, had driven me bananas, and I could not concentrate on a damn thing until I’d gotten them sorted.
Now it just kind of bugged me. I still felt the pull, but there was something else in the room tugging at me, too.
“It’s such a strange feeling,” I mused. “Suddenly abandoning a habit I’ve had for seven years. I feel more peace now than I ever had doing it, though.”
“Seven years?” he repeated. “I thought you started when your parents died five years ago.”
I let out a breath and closed my eyes. “Shit,” I whispered under my breath, not loud enough for him to hear.
I’d forgotten that he didn’t know.
“Easton?” he prompted, clearly waiting for an answer.
I swirled the glass in a circle, watching the brown liquid coat the inside. “Yeah, that story was never in the media, was it?”
In his Googling, he wouldn’t have come across it, because my family had kept it under tight wraps.
“What story?”
I took a deep breath and set the glass down on the floor, tucking my hands behind my head as I started.
“I wasn’t always the sophisticated, capable, and charming woman you see now,” I joked.
He walked around the desk, leaning against the front of it and staring down at me.
“No?” He played along.
I looked up at him and, after steeling myself, opened up to him. “When I was sixteen, I was very naive and sheltered,” I told him. “I didn’t know how to make decisions or question anything. I had never even been on a date, and if my parents had had their way, I never would’ve been.”