The Specialist (Norcross #3) - Anna Hackett Page 0,42
the warmth?”
Her pulse went crazy. Oh, God.
“You don’t think when I’m deep inside you, I don’t feel happy?”
Harlow’s mouth dropped open. His words hit her in her heart, but— “Easton, your mother is standing right there!” Heat flooded her cheeks.
“My mother knows her kids have sex.”
Clara laughed softly. “And she has sex, too.”
Easton’s face froze, then he winced. “Ma, not another word.” He refocused on Harlow and cupped her cheeks. “You don’t think when you sleep pressed against me, I don’t feel fucking everything?”
“Easton, language,” Clara said quietly.
He ignored his mom.
Harlow swallowed, her chest about to burst. “My father—”
“You are not your father. You’re not responsible for his actions, or his mess.” Easton pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re beautiful, smart, hard-working—”
“You should be with someone extraordinary. Some gorgeous woman with four degrees, who speaks French and Italian, who started her own business and turned it into a multimillion-dollar empire with her intelligence, grit, and savvy.”
“I don’t want your imaginary perfect woman, Harlow, I want you.” He nipped her lips. “You see me. You see Easton. You don’t see my bank account, or my position, or my influence. You’re about as easy to give anything to as hugging a hedgehog.”
Harlow sniffed. “Hedgehogs are cute.”
His lips quirked. “You’re mine now.”
She melted against him. She could only put up so much of a fight, and she had no defenses against Easton Norcross.
“And you can always learn French and Italian.”
She elbowed him.
“Wonderful.” Clara clapped her hands together, her face filled with satisfaction. “Now, time for dessert.” She pulled a tray of cannoli out of the fridge.
Harlow met Easton’s gaze and he ran his finger down her nose. Then he tugged her back into the dining room.
She ate until her skirt waistband was digging into her skin.
“Time to go home,” Easton murmured.
Home. Together.
“Harlow,” Gia said. “We’re doing drinks tomorrow. It’s Saturday, and you need to destress.”
“How about we go to Charmaine’s?” Haven suggested.
Oh, Harlow had only been to the funky rooftop bar once, and loved it.
Easton leaned forward. “I want Harlow safe until the issues with her father are sorted. No going out.”
Thinking of her father made Harlow’s contentment from the evening dim.
“Fine,” Gia said, undeterred. “Drinks at Easton’s bar.”
Harlow frowned. “Easton’s bar?”
“He has an entire bar room in that big house of his. There’s a pool table, and the bar is fully-stocked.” Gia reached out and squeezed Harlow’s hand. “We’ll make our own fun.”
“Maybe I have plans,” Easton said.
“Now you have better ones,” his sister countered.
He shook his head.
Finally, they said their goodbyes.
“I’ll call when we have something,” Vander said. “Your dad can’t have gotten far.”
“Thanks, Vander,” Harlow said.
Ethan Norcross hugged her, and for a second, she wanted to hold on to his solid body and absorb as much of his paternal comfort as possible.
“Let my boy take care of you, Harlow. He needs it.”
She nodded.
“And take care of him back.” Ethan winked.
Clara hugged her too, pressing kisses to both her cheeks. “Everything will be fine, Harlow. You’ll see.”
In the car, Harlow stared out of the window as they drove back to Pacific Heights. She looked at Easton through the shadowed car. He drove well. It was sexy to watch those long fingers on the wheel.
“What’s going on in your head?” he asked, as he pulled into his garage.
“I can’t just sit around doing nothing, and letting Vander do all the work. I need to help find my father.”
Easton’s face hardened. “You aren’t traipsing around San Francisco—”
“No,” she interrupted him. “I’m not stupid.” They headed to the elevator. “I’m going to make a list of dad’s friends. He could be staying with one of them, or they could’ve helped him.”
Easton nodded slowly as the elevator ascended. “That’s actually a good idea.”
She shot him a dry look. “I do have them once in a while.”
“I know. The best one you had was when you decided to sleep with your boss.”
“I don’t remember sleeping with Meredith.”
He tugged her closer and nipped her jaw.
“I’m going to make the list tonight, and I’ll call around tomorrow.” Harlow felt energized. This was a way to help and take control of the situation.
“Come on.” He pulled her down the hall and into a media room. The walls were a dark gray, and the screen was enormous. Huge, black-leather chairs filled the space, and framed, classic-movie pictures were lined up on the walls.
“This is awesome,” she said. “Movie nights must be amazing. Big screen. Popcorn.”
She saw Easton blink.
She put her hands on her hips. “You’ve never done a movie night?”
“I