Reverse (Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

THIRTY-NINE “Heaven Sent”

THIRTY-NINE

“Heaven Sent”

Mr. Little Jeans

Natalie

“Y ou owe me one hell of an apology,” I scold as Easton’s lips roam over my stomach.

“I believe,” he licks a slow, seductive path along my gold chain, which is surprisingly still intact after endless hours of intense lovemaking, “I’ve been apologizing profusely for hours. But I’m sorry,” he offers, pausing to look up at me. I expect to see a smirk, or at the very least, a sly smile, but instead am met with sincerity.

“Do you know what you’re apologizing for?”

He frowns. “Have you been dating nothing but toddlers? I’m sorry for being a dick yesterday,” kiss, “and last night,” kiss, “and for the song. I’m not proud of myself.”

“That song . . . you believe that’s who I really am?”

“No, I believe that’s who you portray yourself to be when you’re uncomfortable dealing with real shit.” This time he does smirk, “ Sleeping Beauty .”

“Ah, so there’s the double entendre to my nickname. Thanks for ruining it.”

“It will only feel condescending when you play immune.”

“I told you when we met that I’m aware of my behavior at all times, even if I’m not acting in a certain way or saying things

other people want or expect me to.” I run my fingers through his thick, damp hair. “And those are two distinct definitions. Playing immune —not affected or influenced by and acknowledging —to accept or admit the truth of. I’ve never been immune to you, Easton, I just refused to acknowledge it, and you know why.”

He runs a lazy finger around my navel. “Desperate times, drastic measures. You were leaving, again . You weren’t going to answer my calls, again .”

“So, you threw a party to try and convince me?”

“No,” he clips out, lowering his gaze.

“Oh, way too abrupt of an answer. What are you omitting?” I pull his hair—hard—so he’s forced to look up at me.

“Damn, woman,” he grits out as I continue to pull on his thick tresses. “Jesus, okay. Fuck, okay.”

I soothe his scalp with a caress as he blows out a harsh exhale. “The party was already planned because I was going to attempt to hook up to try and get my mind off you.”

Truth stinging, I nod as he covers my torso with a warm palm. “But I made a better, wiser decision by picking you up in Austin.”

“I can’t hold that against you, and I won’t. I gave you no reason—”

He shakes his head. “Let’s not go back there.”

“Okay, and technically, Tack told me about the party anyway.”

“Because I decided we weren’t going the minute I got you into my van. So, was the party planned for you? No.” He rakes his bottom lip to cover a smile. “Did I decide to lure you to it after I ramped it up to prove a point? Maybe .”

“You sure you’re not a toddler?”

“I know it was bad. It was meant to be, but only because I wanted to confront your suspicions.” He groans in frustration. “It took you fucking forever to get here.”

“ That was purposeful,” I grin.

“Trust me, I know.”

“Well, you threatened me.”

“I’m sorrier for that than anything else. That was the biggest dick move of them all.” His expression turns earnest. “I wouldn’t have carried through with that threat.”

“I know that . . . now .”

“I was so fucking miserable thinking you weren’t coming.”

“Poor baby, it must have been sooo agonizing with all those titties and bare-naked asses bouncing around you.” Batting my lashes, I dole out my best Southern drawl. “However did you cope until I arrived? Bless your little heart.”

He digs his chin into my stomach, and I giggle and squirm, palming his jaw to stop his assault. “Sorry, but it’s just a little hard for me to imagine that you were waiting so impatiently for me with designer drugs at your disposal and a literal clitoral circus running rampant around you.”

“I told you it’s not my thing anymore. Drugs aren’t either. I prefer to acquire my adrenaline and endorphins naturally.”

“By riding motocross and chasing F3 tornadoes, I’m aware.”

“It was an F4,” he corrects with a grin.

I roll my eyes. “So, no parties, ever ?”

“I mean, yeah,” he lifts a shoulder, “sure, occasionally. Why the hell not? I’m in this life for the ride like everyone else, and I want to make the most of it—but everything in moderation. And a party like that ? Only with you next to me.”

“That was some show,” I widen my eyes.

“Truth?” He lifts to hover over me, sporting a devilish grin. “That was tame compared to some of the crap I’ve been exposed to.”

“That’s . . .” I shake my head, “I can’t even imagine what that would look like.”

He turns on his side and props his head on his hand, eyes glittering down on me. “My parents tried their best to shield me, but I’ve snuck into far worse.” He sobers with his next admission. “I’m no saint and won’t ever claim to be. I’ve done my fair share of questionable shit over the years. But since I’ve been on the road, I’ve created a new norm. After we play, I write, work out, order some good food— real food—shower, and crash.” He holds my chin with gentle fingers commanding my full attention. “And now, when I can work it in, I’ll add my new favorite pastime,” his accompanying smile lights my chest, “making my beautiful girlfriend come so hard I put her to sleep.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Moving too fast?” He groans before collapsing back against his pillow. I catch his gaze on me in the mirrored ceiling above us as he addresses my reflection. “Are you really going to keep denying this didn’t get serious back in Seattle? I did patiently wait eight fucking weeks in between dates.”

Sliding my leg over his torso, I lift to straddle him. Soaking in his every detail, I trace his beautifully healed tattoo with my fingers. So much is clear to me now since I’ve allowed my rejection cloud to disperse. Part of that clarity is the fact I’ve never in my life wanted anything more than to keep the connection I feel with the naked man beneath me.

“No. I’m not denying it. My reality is on this side of the glass now, remember?” I admonish with ease, utterly done with that aspect of it, no matter how much the potential consequences scare me.

Easton’s eyes flit with relief. “ Finally, Jesus.”

“Oh, shut up.”

He runs his fingers gently through my damp hair before pushing it behind my naked shoulder. After an explorative and thorough shower, we changed the sheets with a spare set we found in a closet. After a handful of hours of sleep, we woke up hungry, only to soil them all over again. We’ve spent most of the day exhausting each other before collapsing, naked and entangled while grabbing cat naps.

Rinse and repeat.

When day turned into late afternoon, we dragged ourselves into the shower to wash off one last time with the intent to dress and get me in the direction of home. Joel had picked up my suitcase for me and checked me out of my hotel before delivering it to this room. Even with my luggage waiting nearby—and a long workday looming tomorrow—we only managed to make it as far as the bed, wearing nothing but our jewelry. Admiring his now, I run my finger along the smooth black cross resting against his chest. “Speaking of messiahs. When did you become religious?”

“I’m not.”

“So then, not a believer?”

He tilts his head. “I believe in the soul,” his response thoughtful. “I’ve heard too many bleed and crack through my speakers not to, so it’s only natural I believe that a higher power created them. But if there’s a religion I subscribe to—”

“It’s music,” I finish for him, and he dips his chin as he pinches the cross between his fingers.

“This is a talisman of defense to ward off evil gifted by an overprotective mother. I guess you could say ‘it’s a Stella thing.’”

When I tighten my grip on his hips with my thighs, he frowns. “What? Is that more of a deal-breaker than me not liking the Cowboys?”

“It’s the Longhorns, Crowne. Get it straight. And no, it’s not that at all. I feel exactly the same. I don’t buy into all the condemnation in organized religion, but I do believe in God and love. So, I guess if I have religion, it’s human-interest stories because that’s what feeds my soul and makes me a believer in the miraculous.”

“Okay, so we agree there, which is a good thing.”

“Right.”

He palms my thighs. “So why are you bruising my hips?”

“It’s just . . . what you said afterward. It took me by surprise.”

“What did I say?”

“Don’t get weird, but ‘it’s a Stella thing’ reminded me of our parents.”

“Don’t get weird?” He rolls his eyes upward. “We’re fucking naked, in bed, and you’re thinking of our parents.”

“Unfortunately . . . yeah.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“It’s just that my dad used to say that exact thing to your mom verbatim when he was wooing her. ‘It’s a Stella thing’ was

their thing, an inside joke between them I read in some of the emails.”

He grimaces. “Their history really fucks with you, doesn’t it?”

“No, I’ve only been ignoring your phone calls twice a week for two months because it doesn’t affect me at all.” I deadpan.

“Point taken,” he chuckles before resuming his intoxicating touch.

“Will you at least read the emails?”

“Because you’re having such an awesome time dealing? No fucking thank you.”

“Easton, this is serious.” I sigh, and he grips my hand, threading our fingers.

“Okay, then let’s talk about it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, studying our clasped fingers. “Seriously.”

Eager for the conversation, I go to slide off him, and he grips my hips to stop me.

“No way,” he rakes his lower lip, “if we’re going to finally have this talk, I’m keeping my view.”

I can’t help my smile even as I roll my eyes. “Okay.”

He brushes his thumb along the crease between my brows in an attempt to erase it. “I don’t want this, us , to hurt you or your career. I also don’t want you to have to sacrifice anything, especially your relationship with your father.”

“I don’t see any way around that,” I shake my head. “I mean, how can we avoid it?”

“As much as I don’t want to have to—and as juvenile as it may seem—we’re going to have to hide this relationship from everyone .” He presses his lips to my knuckles before resting my palm on his chest. “For now, we’re in this to see what’s between us, so we’ll keep it solely between us .”

“Okay,” I agree readily, too readily, according to his rapidly darkening expression.

“But not for long, okay? I don’t lie to my parents.” He grimaces. “I’ve never really had to.”

“Same, and I hate it.”

Fear starts to slither its way in while my mind sifts through worst-case scenarios.

“Stop it,” Easton commands sharply. “We’ll figure us out first and feel them out later before we come clean. We’re only touring through the end of summer, and if we keep adding shows, possibly through fall. We can do it this way until I’m off the road. For now, I just want to concentrate on us, and I want you to know you’re safe . . .” He brushes my chest where my heart lay, “that

this is safe with me.”

“Agreed . . . then, can I ask who that girl was?”

He bites his lip to hold his grin. “I was wondering when that was coming.”

I narrow my eyes. “Stop stalling.”

“I’m not. She’s the daughter of one of my dad’s friends who owns a studio here in Dallas.” He eyes me warily. “Do you want the whole truth?”

“Yes.”

“We fucked when I was nineteen, and she was my potential hookup for the party, but I shut that shit down for good the second she showed up last night.”

I swallow, hating the fact I was right about them having history.

“I didn’t want to disinvite her after I already called, but I didn’t give her any inclination we’d be hooking up when I did. I was just fucking . . . frustrated. But before you got here, I made it clear I was waiting for someone.”

“Such a gentleman,” I sass.

He traces the faint tan line on my neck, his hands seducing and soothing, as his words bite. “I’m sorry if that bothers you.”

“It would bother me more if you weren’t honest about it.”

“Sure about that?” He lifts his hips, jostling me. “You look pretty bothered.”

“Shut up.”

“I’ll never lie to you , Natalie.”

“I know you won’t, and I love that about you.”

“I told you last night, nothing outside that door has ever compared to what I feel on this side of the door with you, and I mean it.” He grips my hips to command my attention. “I’ve never in my life been jealous in a way that could incite violence, so, touché, Beauty, because Chad bothered the fuck out of me.”

“Well, he caught on quickly to what was going on between us. That should tell you everything you need to know, but can we have a ‘no exes within ten miles’ rule?”

“Let’s make it a fucking hundred.”

“Suits me. But in my case, you don’t have an ex to worry about.”

“Same.”

“So,” I grin. “What’s an amped-up party like that cost anyway?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh,” I giggle and pinch his sides. “You going to get funny about money again?”

“No, but you’re already a flight risk, so I’m not telling you shit.”

“Thirty grand?”

He schools his expression in refusal of answering.

“Forty?”

“It doesn’t matter. It was worth every fucking penny. Couldn’t you tell how miserable I was?”

“I wasn’t really paying attention because I was too busy trying not to leap over a couch of naked women to claw your eyes out.”

Said eyes roaming, he shifts his hips, his cock hardening beneath me. “I saw your curiosity the minute you hit the landing, how intrigued you were,” he lifts to take my nipple into his mouth, sucking noisily before releasing it, “how turned on you were getting.” He grinds his hips beneath me, eliciting a low moan from my parted lips. “I was going fucking blind with the need to touch you,” he murmurs before laying back against his pillow and jostling me again, this time with his thick dick. “I wanted to pluck every filthy thought, every fantasy from your beautiful head and play it out with you.”

“How do you know they were filthy?”

“Are you kidding? I can read you so easily it’s ridiculous.”

“Well,” I hear the arousal in my voice as I plant my hands on his chest before running my center teasingly along the ridge of his cock. “You punished me instead.”

“It was a just punishment. But I’ve got so much more in store for you—for us—for that curiosity that was written all over your face.” He rakes his lower lip. “I’m going to be the man to satisfy every filthy fantasy you come up with. Bet. ”

“Mmm, so what am I thinking right now?”

“That you want to be kissed, fucked, and loved properly, and you want me to be the one to do it.” His words stun me briefly as he grasps my hips, controlling my movement while rolling his own, pulling me straight back to the brink of orgasm. He’s already mapped my body to the point he can get me there before I’m even aware I’m capable.

The part that has my heart fluttering faster is that he’s right. I do want him to be the one to kiss me, fuck me, and love me properly, but instead of admitting it, I grip his impressive length in my hand and lift to take him inside of me.

Seeing my intent, he jerks his chin in command, challenging me as he rubs me back and forth, inching lower to cover more of him with every teasing thrust. “You’re going to come first,” he declares, determination in his heated tone, “just like this.” He quickens his pace for emphasis.

My thighs begin to shake from the delicious friction he’s creating as his expression smolders.

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely, “you’re so goddamn perfect.”

His praise sends me into orbit as I rock against him, fueling the fire. Just as I start to come apart, he lifts me and thrusts in slightly. I tighten around him as the orgasm takes hold, the wave crashing into me so abruptly that I score his chest with my nails.

“Easy, Beauty,” he grits out as the shudder subsides. Sweat beads at my temple as pain and pleasure mingle in the most delicious mix. “I know you’re sore.”

“I don’t care. I want you, please, Easton, now,” I grind my hips in demand while trying to accommodate his size. As wet as I am, and even after the orgasm, I struggle to take him in.

“Damn.” Easton stills my hips, keeping my gaze before gently easing into me with prodding thrusts. I call his name as he slowly feeds me every delicious inch until I’m fully seated. Impaled on his perfect dick, he releases my hips, and I take over, palming the back of his thighs for leverage while slowly starting to circle my hips.

Jaw slack, eyes hooding, Easton gazes up at me like no one else on earth exists. And I feel that truth because when we’re connected like this, for me, no one else does.

“Everything,” he groans, gently pumping up and into me as I swivel my hips. “Every fucking thing about you,” he rasps out.

Together, we sync into perfect rhythm as I stare down at him, drunk on his expression, on the feelings he’s drawing out of me. Using the pad of his finger, Easton begins to lazily trail the chain around my waist, gliding his finger back and forth in a hypnotizing sweep in time with my hips. We maintain our silent tempo as I widen my thighs to take him deeper. His eyes go molten at the richer connection, his expression one of bewilderment.

I murmur his name, hearing the emotion in my tone, and his finger stops as he searches my gaze. Unable to voice what I’m feeling, I pray he can read my thoughts now as he seems to do so easily because what I feel for him in this moment is indescribable. In an instant, he lifts to sit, cradling the sides of my face. It’s there he holds me captive, as I vibrate inside my skin, on the precipice of handing myself over while giving him a clear view of the emotional overload—withholding nothing.

“Let go, baby,” he urges softly, “I’m coming with you.” My heart rockets as his words surround me. Knowing he’s with me in every way that matters, physically , spiritually , emotionally , I leap.