my breasts. His breath, his tongue, the side to side brush of his lips, the way his hands massage my sensitive mounds with such possession, is short-circuiting my brain. And then his hands slide up my outer thighs, gripping my hips beneath the dress and I have to trap a moan. “Lights and flowers have no importance.”
“No.” I struggle through the sensual haze he’s wrapped me in. “No, but I also want to know the person.”
He slides me closer, to the edge of the couch. The move hikes up my dress and his eyes lock on the juncture of my thighs, flaring with heat. “You don’t need to know me to get off.”
“It would be better if I did,” I say unevenly. “It would mean more.”
Easton curses and a line appears between his brows, the first crack in his façade. “I can’t mean anything to you, Scout. You can’t mean anything to me.”
“Why?”
Agitated hands curl in the material of my dress. “I get one night. One. Any more than that and you’ll become a target.” He leans in and presses our foreheads together, gathering me to him on the couch like a rag doll, crushing me to his hard body. “Like everyone else that had the misfortune of being in my life. Do you understand?”
I do.
Of course.
I never stopped to think how lonely the kingpin’s life must be. Other criminals want his position. There are constant threats. Culpability. Relationships must be impossible.
I don’t realize I’ve wrapped my arms around his neck until Easton gathers me tighter, rocking me on the couch, his face taking deep inhales in my hair.
“Well…” I pause, questioning the wisdom of what I’m about to do. Am I crazy? I don’t know. But I can sense this man’s need for me and my instinct is to fulfill it. “We have the night to get to know each other, then. To make this meaningful. Romantic.”
His laugh releases in a rush. “Is this where I point out I already have you half naked?”
“Fair point. But you don’t want me to regret my first time.”
I state it as a fact. Because somehow I know it is one.
He lifts his head and scrutinizes my features, as if memorizing them. “No, cutie,” he says hoarsely. “I…don’t.”
“So take me on a date, Easton,” I whisper, giving in to the urge to brush his hair back.
The gesture, plus me saying his name, seems to unnerve him and soothe him all at once. One affectionate slip and he’s a cornered animal. He yanks me forward and pins me down to the couch so fast, a scream lodges in my throat. And then he’s above me, his body poised above mine, lethal and powerful, his hand dropping down to grip between my legs. “I could fuck you right now. Easy at first. Then hard enough to make you sore. And you would love it, little girl. Are we clear on that?”
My vision doubles, I’m so dizzy. From shock, from lust. From whatever foreign and unexpected effect this man is having on me. “Y-yes, we’re clear.”
Something like agony slips through his eyes. “Then why don’t I?”
“Who are you asking?” I breathe. “Me or yourself?”
He swallows, leans down and bares his teeth against my mouth. “I don’t take innocent little virgins out on dates. I don’t take anyone out on dates.”
“Where are we going, though?”
I have no idea when I got so brave.
Am I the same girl who passed out when I walked in here?
I don’t know where this confidence is coming from, but I have the complete conviction down deep in my belly that this man is not what everyone thinks. And that he is incapable of hurting me. That when it comes to hurt…he’s the one who’s experiencing it.
“You get to know me,” he says in a low voice. “You might not like what you find.”
Following impulse, I lean up and kiss his mouth softly, working my mouth over his until he makes a broken sound, kissing me back, winding his tongue around mine, his lips voracious, his grip tightening between my thighs until I whimper, shift my hips. Sensing we’re reaching the point of no return, I pull away. “I’ll take that risk,” I manage through deep breaths.
For long moments, we stare at each other and he seems torn. Conflicted. Starved. But I know in my heart he’s going to do the right thing. I’m positive.
And he proves me right when he rips away, pushing to his feet. He stalks across the luxury box