A lot. Maybe watch a bunch of movies that will make me cry. I don’t know. So, I’m sorry if I’m being bitchy. What you do is not my business.”
His nostrils flare, and I notice his hands clenching at in his lap. “I had a shit night and Jay and I went out to let loose. There were no women involved. Just booze. We sobered up before even leaving the bar.”
My lips twitch. He doesn’t seem sober right now, but I don’t bring that up.
“It’s easier,” he murmurs.
That makes me confused. “What is?”
“Talking to you when I’m buzzed.” I cringe at how that must make me. Am I unapproachable when he’s sober? Do I act like I don’t care? Go me.
“Sorry?”
He sighs, his shoulders slumping. “It’s not easy for me to open up to people, Piper. But I do with you. It’s just easier when I’ve had a few drinks and get in a mood.”
One of my brows quirk up. “You need liquid courage to speak to me?” It’s wrong to find that amusing when he’s so … him. Sex on a stick. An inked orgasm waiting to happen. If anything, I should need alcohol to approach him.
Been there, done that.
“You love her,” he states randomly, his eyes locking on the picture of Danny. “I can tell how much you love her. That makes me respect you because you don’t have to.” Not knowing what to say, I just keep quiet and let him speak his mind. “People don’t have to love kids. They don’t have to give them their time. I know that first-hand. But you? Shit, Piper. You took in your friend’s daughter even when you could have found another way. But you love her and would do anything for her. That shit gets to me. You get to me. So, yeah. Liquid courage is sometimes needed when I feel like shit and need somebody to talk to.”
And he wants that someone to be me? I let my shoulders loosen from their tight stance, easing my back against the headboard. “Ainsley really did love the brownies you made. She had three even though I told her two was enough. I swear she cons me with just one little look.”
His eyes light up, and the barely-there smile on his face returns. Only this time, it lasts longer than the normal three seconds I’m used to seeing it. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I shouldn’t have come in.”
“Why did you?” Why did he tell me anything he did? He never talks about his personal life. His past. Maybe I don’t give him a chance to before I use him to escape mine.
His voice is soft. “Just needed to.”
There’s something familiar in his tone that has me reaching out and placing my hand on top of his. Defeat. I’ve felt it before, heard it lingering in my voice when I wished I didn’t.
Easton and I are a lot alike.
In pain.
Needing comfort.
Wanting to escape the reasons why.
So, I lean forward the same time he does until our lips meet in the middle. It starts as a soft kiss, lingering, exploring. He brushes mine with a gentleness I didn’t know he could possess. Once, twice, a third time. Each pass gets a little firmer, like he’s searching for something.
One of his hands goes to my hip, where he slides me down the mattress until I’m lying flat on my back with him hovering over me. Our lips never stop touching. His tongue sweeps my bottom lip until I open for him, and I can taste the bitterness of his choice of poison from the bar. But I ignore it and reach for his shirt, guiding it up and palming his hard stomach along the way.
He moves back peeling his shirt off, then helping me with mine. The movements are calculated yet slow, like he wants this but not with the same urgency as before. What he needs now isn’t to forget. He needs to remember—he needs my body, my warmth, the way I pant and whisper and plead.
And I give it to him.
Our clothes shed slowly as his hands caress my body. His lips find my chest, tease my breasts, nip my stomach, until they trail downward and meet the bundle of nerves that ache for him between my legs. He kisses me and sucks me and licks me and plays with me until I’m gripping the sheets on either side of my body and biting my bottom lip to keep quiet.