The constant rain pummeled the windows, and I blinked awake, the only light in the room coming from the blue glare of the digits on the alarm clock.
Sitting up slowly, I combed my fingers through my hair and wiped away the sweat on my forehead.
Shit, it’s hot in here. The humidity from the rain always made everything so miserable.
Glancing to my side, I noticed the small form underneath the sheet, and I slowly leaned down on one elbow, my heart racing with pleasure at the sight of Easton Bradbury curled up on her side, her hand—palm up—resting next to her face.
Her eyelids, with their thick, brown lashes, rested calmly, with none of her usual little scowls tightening her pretty face. She looked peaceful.
I inhaled a heavy breath, suddenly feeling like the air was too thick.
What the hell was she doing to me?
I hadn’t felt like this in a long time.
Not since the first time I realized I wanted my son and I was losing him.
Christian had barely been a toddler the first time I’d seen him. And for the first time in my life, I finally started to realize there were things I might not be able to have.
And I’d been scared. Exactly like I was now.
Christian smiles so wide his eyes close as he kicks the beach ball with his little legs. His mouth makes an O when he sees how far the ball travels, and he takes off, running after it.
I look between Brynne and him, playing in the park and unaware that I’m there. My heart aches.
My son.
I can barely breathe.
I was driving down St. Charles when I’d spotted her car. I’d glanced around for only a few seconds before I saw her.
And him.
I don’t know why I did it, but I’d pulled over. We hadn’t spoken lately, and I hadn’t seen my son since he was born. I thought about him, but it still didn’t feel like he was real.
Not until now.
I swallow, seeing her pick him up and hold him over her head. He’s only about a year and a half, and I smile, noticing how happy and playful he is.
He looks just like me.
Life was scarier—and harder—when you had things you were afraid to lose.
Reaching out, I ran my thumb down her golden cheek, the skin as smooth as water.
She pursed her rose lips, her soft breathing sweeter than music, and I let out a breath, running my possessive hand down her side and over her ass.
What the hell was I doing? Why was she so damn addictive?
She reminded me so much of myself—the pride, the independence, the stubbornness . . .
But I rarely ever spent the night with a woman, much less brought them to my house, so why the hell had I done so with her?
I struggled with too many expectations from other people on me, as well as my own, to bring a woman into the mix.
This was a mistake.
She’d start getting demanding, I’d start disappointing her, and she’d eventually realize that she would never come first.
At least that’s the way it had always been.
Pushing away my warring thoughts, I slowly pulled down the sheet, exposing her perfect breasts, full with hard nipples that begged for my mouth.
My cock began to rush with heat and harden, and my chest swelled with the need to be something for her that I had never been for any other woman. I wanted to give her everything. I wanted to never disappoint her.
Reaching down, I took myself in my hand and stroked as I leaned over and flicked her nipple with my tongue and then caught it between my teeth, dragging out the sensation.
She moaned, and the sheet over my cock tented. I loved that little sound of hers.
“Do that again,” I begged, opening my mouth and sucking in as much of her tit as I could handle.
Her hand went to my hair, and I could feel the vibrations of her groan against my mouth as I kissed her body.
Fuck.
I let out a breath, feeling my groin tighten even further. “You got me hard again.”
And I grabbed her hand, laying it on my steel cock.
She mewed like a satisfied kitten, and I looked up to see her eyes still closed but a little smile peeking out.
I didn’t wait. I never fucking waited with her.
I rose and climbed on top of her, nestling between the warm legs she so graciously opened for me.
I grinded up and down her slick heat, feeling her wetness on my cock already.
“Jesus, you’re wet,” I whispered against her mouth as I laid my chest flush with hers with my forearms resting on either side of her head. “Is that what I do to you? Huh?” I teased.
But rather than her usual smart-ass comebacks, she blinked awake and gazed at me, looking so fucking innocent and dreamy.
“Yeah.” She nodded.
My fists balled above her head, and I covered her mouth with mine as I thrust my hips, sliding into her tight body.
What the hell was I doing?
—
The hot spray cascaded over my head and down my neck and shoulders, sending chills over my skin as my body finally relaxed. I’d woken up again during the night with another erection and realized it was because her mouth was wrapped around my cock under the sheets.
I leaned a hand against the black tiled shower wall and bowed my head, letting out a breath.
Biologically, neither one of us was at our sexual peak, but you wouldn’t know it. I was practically in high school all over again, with an insatiable young woman I couldn’t get enough of, and all she had to do was look at me or breathe and I was as hard as a steel pole.
I hadn’t felt an urge to go more than twice a night in years, and here I was, four times in the last eight hours, with muscles I’d forgotten existed aching.
I couldn’t be more satisfied. Or less.
Plus, I had a shitload of work to do—I shouldn’t have overslept—but if I took her home, I knew I’d only be running back to her in a matter of hours.
I turned off the water and grabbed the towel hanging off the hook. After drying off my face and hair, I wrapped it around my waist and stepped out of the shower.
But as soon as I walked back into my bedroom, I stopped and hardened my glare.
“What are you doing?”
Easton was fully dressed in her wrinkled skirt and blouse from last night and sitting on the edge of the bed, bending over as she slipped her feet back into her flats.
She glanced over at me briefly before turning away again.
“I need to go home.”
I ground my teeth together to prevent myself from shouting at her, instead walking over to yank a pair of dark-washed jeans out of my closet.
“You got a dog?” I asked, ripping off the towel and tossing it.
“No.”
I peered over at her as I slipped my legs into the pants. “A cat? A kid? You left the stove on?” I went on.
She pursed her lips, knowing I was mocking her. Turning away, she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame it.
“Take your clothes off, Easton. They’re dirty,” I ordered, buttoning my jeans. “I have a T-shirt you can wear.”
Her posture straightened, and I could see she was taking a deep breath. I combed my fingers through my wet hair as I walked over to her.
“I’m a gentleman only when I need to be,” I warned. “It’s a monsoon out there. You’re not walking out of here.”
She spun around, her worried eyes pulling at my heart.
“I shouldn’t have come back here.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Christian could come home unexpectedly, or . . .”
“Christian won’t be home,” I cut in. “Trust me. This is the last place he wants to be.”
She shifted on her feet, refusing to meet my eyes.
I tipped her chin up, making her look at me. “I want you to spend time with me,” I told her. “I’m not saying I want a relationship. God knows, I suck at that. But I’d like us to relax for a day, okay?”
She looked away, letting out a sigh. “I hate not knowing what to expect.” She gave a sad little laugh. “I hate not seeing what’s coming at me, and I get nervous when things go off course. I—”
“You’re on the pill, right?” I shot out, but I managed to keep my voice light.
She blinked, straightening her back at my sudden change of subject.
“Excuse me?” she blurted out, looking confused.
I almost laughed. “I haven’t been pulling out, and you never answered me last night.”
“Well, you didn’t really ask,” she reminded me. “And you didn’t seem too concerned about it, either.”
“In the moment, no,” I agreed, walking over to my chest of drawers and getting her a white V-neck. “And after feeling you without one, I doubt I’ll want to start now.” I walked back over to her and handed her the shirt.
“You are on the pill?” I asked again. “Right?”
Her eyebrow quirked, and the mischievous grin she offered delighted me.
“Easton.” I gave her the warning tone I usually reserved for my son and my employees.
Her smile spread wide, actually revealing teeth. “Of course,” she soothed. “I would’ve stopped you if I wasn’t.”
I shook my head, taking her shirt and lifting it up over her head. Whether or not getting involved with my son’s teacher was a huge mistake, getting her pregnant would definitely be a disaster.
“You see?” I told her. “Problems can always be bigger.”
I undid her zipper and let her skirt fall to the ground. She was completely nude underneath, and I felt my heart pick up its pace when I remembered her lacy underwear were probably still lying somewhere in the French Quarter.
I slipped the T-shirt over her head and then reached down and grabbed her ass, bringing her closer.
“You distracted me on purpose,” she accused, a hint of amusement in her eyes.
Yes, yes, I had. Her head had been starting to work again, just like last night, and I didn’t want her worrying about half a million things that wouldn’t happen today.
Or to start counting things, for crying out loud.
“Yes.” I trailed my lips across her cheek and down to her neck. “Because you can’t go home,” I whispered as her arms circled my neck and held me close.
“Why?”
I squeezed her ass, pressing her to my hardening cock. “Because your pussy is like gold, and in a matter of hours, I’ll want more of it.”
“Ugh,” she growled, pushing me away but smiling. “I see men in their thirties are no tamer than men in their twenties.”
I pinched her chin between my thumb and index finger. “Lucky you,” I replied.
She shook her head at me, probably deciding to pack away her escape plan for now. She was stuck.
“I’m going to go make some phone calls,” I told her, backing away. “Feel free to use the shower, and there’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”
