One Kiss #2
I inhale shakily, and it's his scent that fills my lungs. Cedarwood. Clean laundry. Easton.
I just stare at him because I honestly don't know what to say.
No one has ever been this firmly on my side before.
No one has ever looked at me like leaving was the obvious choice.
“Come here.”
Before I can respond, he pulls me against him again.
One arm wraps around my shoulders, the other settling across my back, and he simply holds me.
Tears fill my eyes again, overwhelmed by everything I've been trying to hold together since I saw those photos.
I feel his chest rise and fall beneath my forehead, steady and unhurried, and somewhere beneath the tears and panic, I realize my own breathing has started to match his.
It's the most cared-for I have felt in six years.
I pull back, just enough to look at him.
“Thank you.”
I mean to say more. To apologize for the wet stain on his shirt. To tell him he doesn’t have to do all of this, but the words don’t come. Instead, I find myself staring into his eyes…
The hazel with green flecks catches my attention, and I mentally trace every detail.
And he doesn’t look away. He’s right there with me, his hand still at the back of my neck, and the air between us goes thin.
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” His voice is low, and the calm washes over me.
From the corner of my eyes, I see his thumb move. It swipes a lone tear on my cheek and wipes it clean. Then tucks a stray strand I hadn’t noticed behind my ear.
His touch is warm, sending shivers down my spine, and when I exhale, it comes out shaky.
His name is on my lips before I can think it through.
“Easton…”
It’s the last thing I say before his lips find mine, and I don’t hesitate. I kiss him back.
His lips are warm and softer than I imagined, which is ridiculous because I absolutely should not have imagined them at all.
But I have.
God, I have.
A moan slips free and he swallows it.
His hand cups my jaw, and the one on the back of my neck slides down to the nape, holding me in place. It’s firm, but I move closer, wanting more.
My eyes fall closed.
For one perfect moment, there is nothing except Easton.
The way he looks at me like he actually sees me. The way he stepped between me and the cameras in the parking lot without thinking twice. His knuckles brushing my back in the changing room. Every tiny kindness he’s given me without ever asking for anything in return.
And now this. His mouth devouring mine.
I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the heavy, rapid thud of his heart beneath my palms, before wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him down closer.
A low, primal sound rumbles deep in his chest. The restraint he was holding onto snaps, and the kiss turns hungrier, dirtier.
His hand shifts from my jaw, gripping my hip with a sudden, bruising intensity that drags my body flush against his. I can feel every hard line of him, the sheer heat radiating through his clothes, pressing against the sudden ache blossoming between my thighs.
My fingers curl tight into the fabric at his shoulders as he angles my face, his mouth parting mine with relentless pressure.
Warmth floods through me so fast my head spins, settling low in my stomach like a slow-burning fire.
Easton’s tongue glides over the seam of my lips, coaxing them open, and as he tastes me, sweeping deep and slow, nothing has ever felt so perfect.
He groans, a sound of pure satisfaction, his grip tightening on my hip. His thumb hitches the hem of my shirt up, bare skin meeting his warm, calloused palm.
The sensation sends a sharp shock of lightning straight to my core. His mouth leaves mine for a fleeting second to trail desperate, scorching kisses down the curve of my jaw, nipping lightly at the sensitive pulse point at my throat.
“Easton...” I gasp, tipping my head back without thinking.
He mutters a dark oath against my skin, his hips shifting forward as he pulls me flush against him, and there’s no mistaking just how much he wants me.
This is wrong.
I know it is.
I ran away from another man three days ago.
But Easton’s mouth moves over mine again, and nothing about this feels wrong.
His hand slides higher up my ribs, his thumb brushing the soft underside of my breast through the thin lace of my bra, making my breath hitch sharply.
My body suddenly freezes.
His hands fall away as I pull back, lips parted, eyes wide, my fingers still fisted in his shirt.
“Riley…”
“Oh my God.” I jump away.
“Hey…”
I’m already on my feet. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t…”
I step away, not looking at him. I can’t. My feet carry faster than ever to the stairs, and I hear him say my name once, gently, behind me.
There’s a plea in his voice, but I don't stop. I can’t. I don’t know what I’ll do… what will come of me if I look back, and meet those eyes again.
No. I’m not ready for that.
I take the stairs two at a time.
I shut the guest room door behind me and lean against it, my hand over my mouth where his mouth was three seconds ago. I close my eyes.
I don't know what I just did.
What I know is that I just kissed the man whose life I’ve decided to stop ruining, and the only thought in my head, the one I can't get rid of, is that I want to do it again.