Lexi #3
He leads me into the living room, and an entire wall is windows. A stone fireplace starts at the floor and goes to the ceiling. I spot the bookshelf across the room. Behind me is a staircase that spirals to the top floor. It drips elegance and sophistication but still feels like home in a warm way.
“And where will I sleep tonight?”
“There are five bedrooms, and they’ve all been prepared for our arrival. It’s your choice.”
“How long are we staying?”
“Until Thursday, unless you’d like to stay longer,” he says.
He’s dressed in black from head to toe, staring at me like the devil he is.
“I can do basic math, Easton. We’ll leave here on day fourteen.”
“And your point?”
“What if, on day fifteen, you realize this was a mistake?”
He narrows his eyes. “And what if, on day fifteen, I realize I want more than a year?”
“See, when you say things like that …” I nervously laugh.
He shrugs. “I can’t predict the future. Can you?”
“Well, no.”
“You’re dreading something that might not even happen,” he says, leading me to the second floor. He gives me a quick tour of the house. “You can back out, but I need to know now.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I confirm. “At this point, I’m continuing through with this out of spite. To confirm I’m anti-love.”
“And what if you bust your myth?”
I press my lips together. “I guess I will win either way. But right now, I’m not convinced it’s possible.”
I say those words, but do I mean them?
“To be truthful, I’m not either,” he tells me.
Easton lets me choose where I’d like to stay, so I take the suite at the end of the hallway. It’s at the opposite end of the house from his dark gray room, which looks like the living quarters of the vampire, Lestat. It even comes with a wooden carved bed and a Gothic chandelier.
Easton sets my suitcase beside the oak dresser and leans against the doorframe. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, thank you,” I say, kicking off my shoes.
Then, I open my suitcase and pull out something to sleep in.
“I can feel you staring,” I say with my back toward him.
I know he’s watching me. He always is.
“The difference between me and you is, I’m not ashamed.”
I glance at him over my shoulder, meeting his eyes.
Fuck. I cannot handle him looking at me like that.
“Good night, Easton.”
“Good night, Lexi.”
He lifts a brow, as if waiting for me to say something, but no words come. I turn away from him, not daring to get captured in his dangerous web.
When the door closes behind him, I wiggle out of my pants and thin sweater, sliding on an old, faded T-shirt I’ve had for years.
I turn off the light and slip between the silk sheets, staring at the vaulted ceiling in a house tucked into the mountains. Everything about Easton fills my thoughts, and I squeeze my thighs together as my body begs for a release.
I haven’t touched myself in months, but right now, as I envision his blue eyes watching me and his mouth on me, I slide my fingers between my legs. My pussy is slick, and I slam my eyes shut as I rub gently against my clit.
A whimper escapes me as I imagine him hovering above me. My heart races, and I’m already so worked up that if I don’t pull away, I’ll come. And I want to come. I need to come.
I think about him in the other room, grabbing his thick cock and stroking it to the thought of me, and I dip one finger inside my pussy. I’m wet, and I need more, so I give myself a second finger.
“Easton,” I whisper. His name falls from my lips like a prayer.
My body tenses, and as I’m about to spill over the edge, I hear a knock on the door.
“Lexi?” Easton asks from the other side.
I try to suck in air to speak, but my breathing is so ragged that I’m nearly gasping out.
“Mmhmm?” I urge, then cover my mouth.
Every rustle of the sheet as my hand moves is enhanced, so I slow my pace. I’m about to explode, but I hold off.
“I thought I heard something. Do you need any help?”
Fuck, if he only knew what he could help me with right now, in this very moment.
The thoughts of him turning the knob and climbing into bed with me are almost too much. I want his lips and tongue and eyes on me. The fantasy could be a reality.
“No,” I pant out, slowly returning to my cunt, knowing he’s on the other side of that door as I teeter on the edge to thoughts of him.
“Are you sure?” I hear something in his voice. Desire.
My hand falls back to my clit, rubbing torturous circles as my body begs for release. And then it happens; the orgasm takes hold, and I come so fucking hard that my vision blurs. My pussy pulses and it nearly rips me to shreds.
“Yes,” I say breathlessly.
“Mmm. Good night, darling,” he growls.
And I realize what he’s doing to me—getting under my skin.
I fold my arm over my eyes and lick my lips, knowing I’ve never experienced anything quite like that.
And it’s all Easton.
He’s right; he is a goddamn drug. Even in my fantasies, he has me begging for more.
I roll over, feeling the exhaustion take over. And as I fall asleep, I think getting away will be good for us.
By the end of his two-week vacation, I’ll know this man better than anyone else.
Hell, that might go both ways.