by Kim Loraine
The tile floor is cool on my bare feet, and as I go, I marvel at the modern decor. Everything is clean lines and neutral colors. It's peaceful in comparison to the insanity of a Vegas casino.
"Where are you, Easton?" I murmur to myself.
Farther down the hall I hear the gentle strum of a guitar and my heart leaps at the promise of seeing him. I round the corner and stop in the doorway of a room clearly meant for music. Guitars line the walls and a piano sits tucked in the corner. Easton looks completely at home here, feet bare, hair falling into his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. I lean against the doorframe, heart in my throat as I watch him work. After every few strums of the strings, he stops and writes something down in his notebook, then returns to his composing. It's magic.
The song is beautiful, but when he starts from the beginning and his lyrics rise over the chords, I have goose bumps. His voice brushes over me like velvet across my skin as he sings. I could stay here forever. But I'm so wrapped up in his song I don't realize he's noticed me until our eyes lock. My breath catches, and a smile turns up my lips as he stops strumming and rests his arm across the top of his guitar.
"Sounds good," I say, forcing the words through my tight throat.
"Thank you." His answering grin has my heart fluttering. "It's because of you."
"I didn't do anything."
"You don't have to. This is exactly why I wanted you with me. I'm inspired by your energy."
I fidget with the holes in my cover-up, poking my fingers through the crochet design. His heavy gaze on me is making my skin heat.
"Going for a swim?" he asks, his voice rough.
"I was thinking about it. I came to see if you wanted to join me, but you're working, so..."
He sets his guitar in a stand and rises. "I'm done." He doesn't even try to hide his happiness at my invitation.
As he strides across the room, I stand up straighter, conscious of his gaze on my form. He runs his finger over the hem of my cover-up and gives it a playful tug. "What's the point of this? I can see right through it."
A laugh escapes me. "It's to give the illusion of clothes."
"Illusion. Hmm, that's one word you could use."
"What would you use?"
"Tease. It's definitely a tease."
I take his hand and pull it up until the tips of his fingers are at my lips. Pressing soft kisses to his fingertips, I watch his eyes go dark with lust. "I know you don't think I'm a whore but I also know this can't go anywhere. Let's just have fun with what time we've got."
His jaw tightens but he takes a deep breath and nods. "Fine. Let's have fun." He threads our fingers together and that familiar buzz of connection hums between us.
We walk together, hands linked, silent. His calloused fingers tickle the inside of my wrist when we reach his room. "Give me a minute to change."
The thought of him changing clothes with me separated by only a wall makes something tighten low in my belly. I nod and wait for him to leave me, but he doesn't.
"Are you going to change?" I ask.
"If you let me go."
What is he talking about? But then I look down at our hands. Fingers still linked, mine gripping his tightly. "Oh," I say, releasing him and stepping back. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize for touching me."
"I'll just... meet you at the pool." I back up and head into my own room, needing a minute to remind my stupid heart that he's not here for forever. Easton is a passing fancy. He'll roll through my life and I'll help him write his album. I need to stop letting myself fantasize about keeping him. That's what got me hurt with Nick.
It takes Easton less than two minutes to change and when he emerges, stepping onto the patio like a freaking GQ model in his navy swim trunks that hang low on his hips, I have to swallow past the lump in my throat. I knew he had a great body under those clothes. I'd felt the muscles under his shirt yesterday. I didn't expect the six-pack, the tattoos, or a nipple piercing. The man is pure sex.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer." His amused tone makes me smile.
"Using my words against me?"
"Absolutely."
He dives into the pool, the water rippling as I watch his figure swim under the surface. When his head breaches the surface, he grins and says, "Come on. I'm waiting."
I grab the hem of my cover-up and pull it over my head, baring my toned body to him. It's obvious he likes what he sees from the low, "Fuck me," that falls from his lips.
I don't dive straight into the blue water. Instead, I ease myself down, letting my body adjust to the temperature change. My nipples harden from a combination of lust and the cold. At first, I think maybe he hasn't noticed, but when his hands encircle my bare waist, he leans in and nuzzles my neck.
"Cold?" he asks.
"A little."
He helps me down until I'm standing on the bottom of the pool, water up to the tops of my breasts. "You're the most stunning woman I've ever known."
My chest tightens and belly flips. This man has dated supermodels and he thinks I'm the most stunning? I can't wrap my brain around that one. "You're charming," I say, splashing him.
He laughs and splashes me back, making me squeal when the cold water hits the parts of me that haven't gone under yet. We laugh and play in the water together, the sun low in the sky and nothing else to worry about. It's freeing and wonderful. An hour later, we're both floating in the water, staring at the cloudless sky as it turns the purple only a Nevada sunset can offer.
"Did you always want to be famous?" I ask.
"No. I wanted to be a firefighter when I was a kid. Like my cousin."
The idea of him rushing into a burning building to save people sends a wave of desire through me. "Really? I could see you doing that. You'd look hot in turnout gear."
"How do you know what they wear?"
I laugh. "I watch TV."
"Oh, good. I thought maybe you'd dated a firefighter."
"Nope. I haven't dated in a really long time."
I hear the water ripple as he changes positions and I stand to see what he's doing. He assesses me, dark eyes raking my form. "How in the world has that been possible?"
"Well, I actively choose not to date."
He brushes my hair away from my face and steps close. "Until now."
We're not dating. I want to scream it at him. He can't act like I'm his when he knows this isn't going anywhere. "Easton," I whisper.
"Don't talk. Just let me kiss you. I'm addicted to the taste of your lips."
I moan against his mouth the instant it touches mine. He wraps me in his arms, the warmth of his body a contrast to the water around us. All I want is to be close to him. The steel ridge of his erection presses against my belly, a promise of more to come. I glide my hands down his chest and over the planes of his abs until I find my goal. He's long and thick and I'm ready to have him.
He groans when I slip my fingers under the waistband of his swim trunks and grip him. His fingers trail across my shoulders and he pulls on the strings holding up my bikini top. The red fabric falls free, baring my breasts and I shiver when my hard nipples brush against his chest.
When he breaks our kiss, I almost whine, but his big hands encircle my waist and lift me until I wrap my legs around his hips. I close my eyes and rock my hips, my clit rubbing the hard length of him through our bathing suits. Warm lips close around my nipple, sending shockwaves of need straight to my core.
"Oh, God," I cry, squirming in his hold.
He sucks harder, biting just enough to bring another moan from me. I need him inside me almost more than I need my next breath. I reach down and untie both sides of my bikini bottoms before I go to work on his suit. He releases my breast and groans when I free him and line his blunt head up with my slick and ready folds.
He's there, pressing inside, just the tip and it already feels so damn good. I want all of him. Right now.
"Easton, don't tease." Instead of sheathing himself fully, he pulls away, righting
his swim trunks before scooping me into his arms. He walks us to the stairs and we leave the water, me with my bikini top hanging off me. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not fucking you for the first time in a pool. You'll be under me, on a bed so I can watch your face when I make you come."
I'm not going to argue with that.
7
Easton
What the fuck is wrong with me? I nearly sank into Ireland right there in the pool--bareback. If it hadn't been for my need to take my time with her, I probably would have forgotten completely about protection. That's how you end up with a kid and child support payments. But my cock gives a jerk at the thought of filling her with my baby. I can't deny the caveman need to leave my mark, give her a piece of me so she'll never forget, but now isn't the time.
I slide open the door to my room and lay her on the bed, her wet body as beautiful as I'd known it would be. She's open for me, ready and trusting.
"Spread your knees, baby," I say, needing full access to the treasure between her thighs.
She does, no arguments, no sass. She knows how important this moment is.
I've tasted her mouth, but now it's time to taste her pussy. Fitting my shoulders between her legs, I spread her lips with my fingers and trail them over her smooth, bare skin. She's glistening with arousal and it takes everything in me not to dive right in. I sink one finger inside her, loving the little gasp of surprise that comes from her. She's tight and hot and wet.
"God, Easton, it feels so good," she moans.
"It's about to feel a lot better." I take the hard button of her clit into my mouth and suck. She tastes like honey and I could lap at her all fucking night. I swirl my tongue and pump my finger in and out until she's trembling.
"I...I'm, oh, God, I'm coming." Her broken words have my cock weeping with the need to be inside her and when she clenches around my finger, I have to press my own hips into the mattress to get some relief.
Then she's grabbing my hair, pulling me up her body. Her eyes are filled with desperate need. "Inside me," she breathes. I nod and move to grab a condom, but she holds me tight. "I'm on the pill. I need to feel all of you. Please?"
I should still get protection, I know that, but I want to feel all of her too. Shoving my swim trunks down my hips, I kick the wet fabric off and line my aching erection up with her pussy. "Ready, baby?" I ask.
She bites her lower lip and nods. "So, fucking ready."
I don't look away from her gaze as I slowly sink into her body. Instead, I watch her expression change from excitement to a little discomfort as she adjusts to my size, and then finally to absolute pleasure. I'm breathing hard, trying to keep from thrusting until I know she's ready.
"What are you waiting for?" she asks, that sass coming through again.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm not fragile. If you don't start moving, I'm going to take charge and ride you until I come."
My cock throbs inside her causing us both to moan. I'd love to see her on top, her perfect tits bouncing as she gets us both off. But this time, I'm owning her. I thrust, pull back, thrust again until the rhythm is steady and we're both panting. Her nails dig into my back and she cries out my name while I drive deep inside her. I never want to leave this bed.
"You feel so good, baby." I move into her holding on to every ounce of control I possess to stop the orgasm racing up my spine. "So fucking good."
I groan as she clenches around me, the telltale pulse of her around my cock. Her climax has her eyes fluttering, legs tightening, heels digging into my ass, bringing on my own release. "I never want this to end," she says and I can't agree more.
"It doesn't have to." I know the minute I say it, I've made a mistake. She tenses and shifts out from under me, standing and pulling a blanket off the chair. Then she wraps it around her and starts for the door. "Hey, don't do that."
"But that's the point of this. It does have to end." Her voice holds no hint of sadness. She's matter of fact.
"Why?"
"You're only here for two weeks. This" —she gestures between us— "was never supposed to be more than a fling."
I stand and go to her, not willing to let her shut me down. "Stop. You feel it just like I do. This is more than a fling."
"You're going to leave and I won't see you again. That's how this works. No one stays in Vegas. This is the place people come to get away from real life. I should know. I've been hiding from my life for two years."
I pull her to me, holding her close and breathing in her vanilla scent. She's been hurt by someone, that much is obvious. "You'll see me again. I promise. What we have is special. It might have only been a few days, but I know. I feel it."
She doesn't wiggle out of my grasp or fight my hold. She melts into my arms and lets me comfort her. "I feel it too. I want you to be telling me the truth."
"I am. Now come back to bed and let me love you." I pick her up and carry her back to my bed.
I wake up with her in my arms, warm, naked, and pressed against me. Fuck. I could take her right now, I'm so ready. She gives a little moan and wriggles that perfect ass of hers so my cock is nestled between the firm cheeks. Her ass looks like a peach, plump and round, ready for me to take a bite of. I remember thinking that when she got in the pool. My hand slides down her hip and around so I can cup her beautiful ass. She moans again, and I move my fingers forward until I'm touching a very different part of her body. This part is hot and wet and needy for me.
"Morning, baby," I murmur against her shoulder.
"Mmm," she says, stretching and rolling her hips. The friction does fantastic things to my dick.
"I want you."
I play with her clit, making her shudder and spread her legs. Without another word, I line myself up with her entrance and slide into her waiting pussy. God, she feels like heaven. Like it's nothing but her and me, made for each other. I know right now, beyond everything else, that I want her forever. When this concert is done, when I'm ready to leave, I'm taking this woman with me.
8
Ireland
I fell back to sleep after Easton woke me up with amazing morning sex. He's everything I want. Tender and gentle while still being rough around the edges. He takes care of me and he opens up, shares his life even after only a short time. It might seem too fast for some, but we've spent more time together than most couples in their first few months of dating. We've just done it all at once.
The sound of his voice wakes me fully, bringing a smile to my face as I see him pacing the room. He's on the phone with someone.
"Did he like it? I thought it'd be a good surprise. I can't wait to see him. Yeah. Tell him I love him and I'll see him soon."
My heart lurches at first, but then I remember him talking about his brother. Maybe he's got a family gathering planned for after this trip. He seemed to really love his siblings. I close my eyes again, not wanting him to think I was eavesdropping. The bed dips and he leans in to press a soft kiss to my temple.
Then he leaves and I hear the bathroom door close and the shower start. I stand and run to my room, grabbing a nightgown and robe I'd brought when I wasn't sure what we'd be doing during this week. My hair is a curly mass of frizz and tangles. Decidedly not sexy. I pull it all up high on my head into a top knot and rush to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I'm going to make this man breakfast, then let him make love to me on the kitchen counter.
As I mix the pancake batter, my phone rings from its place on the charger in the kitchen. I ignore it. Nothing is more important than being here with Easton. But the damn thing rings again. And again. I finally pull it off the charger and answer.
"What?" I say, knowing it's Summer.
"Did you see?"
I roll my eyes. "See what, Summer?"
"The article."
"What article?"
She takes a deep breath, lets it out, and says, "I'll send it to you, but I think you were right to be worried about Easton in the beginning. He's... well, I think yo
u should read the article."
Dread curls in my gut. "Summer?"
"Just... read it. Call me if you need a ride home."
She hangs up and my phone pings with a text alert. With my jaw clenched tight, I click the link and begin to read.
Easton Harrison's Secret Double Life--Exposed
Easton Harrison, most commonly known for his swoon-worthy songs about love and loss comes across as the most eligible bachelor; the perfect man all women want in their hearts. But sources close to the star say things aren't always what they seem. After extensive investigation, it appears that until Harrison landed his big record deal three years ago, he wore a very different label. Daddy. That's right, ladies. Easton Harrison is a dad, and by the looks of it, a deadbeat. Sources say he doted on his son, now seven years old, until making it big, when he abandoned him and left without so much as a visit.
I can't read any more. My stomach turns and I feel like I'm going to be sick. There in the picture is Easton holding a little baby with a blue cap. He's smiling brightly with a hospital bracelet on his wrist. They don't give those to visitors. That's the kind of thing you get when you're staying for the long haul. When you're the kid's dad.
I toss the unused pancake batter in the sink and head back to my room. Easton catches me up in his arms in the middle of the hall, a lazy smile on his face.
"Hey, baby, where's the fire?"
"Get your hands off me. I'm going home."
His eyes widen with alarm before his brows furrow. "What's going on?"
"This isn't going to work. Take me home or I'm calling a car."
"Ireland. Tell me what this is about?" He holds my upper arms in his big hands, a slight note of panic in his voice.
"This is about you being so much worse than what I feared you'd be."
I wiggle out of his grasp and he runs a hand through his still damp hair. "I don't understand. How did I fuck this up between this morning and the shower?"
