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When I found the courage to move away a few minutes later, he found two plates for us and cut the pizza into triangles. He said nothing as I stared at his back, covered in small, scattered circular scars of burnt flesh.
I covered my mouth, trying to prevent the gasp from escaping, but obviously, he heard because he tensed.
“You were right about scars,” he muttered, dishing up two slices each and then turning to me with the plate extended in a shaky hand.
“East…” I took the plate, my fingers brushing his, and he flinched, breaking my heart.
“My foster dad didn’t like it when I disobeyed him,” he shrugged, “but he sure did like to smoke, and more than that, he loved to use me to put out his cigarettes.”
I hated the truth of his past. I hated the scars he carried and the armor that he wore like a second skin because of the evil he endured.
He leaned against the counter and slowly ate his pizza, but I struggled to lift the warm food to my mouth. I was too nauseous from his admission to eat.
Regardless, I took a small bite. Chewing slowly, I watched him. His eyes were on the floor, no longer on me, and I swallowed the food.
Time passed agonizingly slow as we both ate the pizza in silence. I was hungrier than I thought, but I could barely swallow each bite.
He finished the rest of the pizza and then placed his plate in the dishwasher. I put mine in beside his and helped clean the kitchen. Once we were done, he took my hand and silently led me to the couch in the center of his apartment. He flipped off the kitchen lights on his way, bathing us in only the moonlight that streamed in through the big floor-to-ceiling windows.
He settled into the middle of the couch, pulling me on top of him, my thighs straddling his lap as he cradled my face in his big hands.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Harley. Your eyes are my fucking kryptonite.” He leaned up to press a quick kiss to my lips, and my eyes fluttered closed in relief.
The night wasn’t over.
The buzz from my two martinis was long gone. The confidence they brought was slipping away with every minute that passed, and for just a fleeting moment, I wondered if this was the best idea.
Was I really going to sleep with a stranger?
What would Kennedy say if she knew I was going to have sex with a recent inmate?
What would my parents say?
Would they care?
Did I care?
“Where are you, little bird?” Easton’s blue eyes were laser-focused on me. And regret flooded me as I looked at him. Insecurity flashed through his eyes. He was a broken man trying to give me a piece of himself.
“Here. I’m here.”
“Things change when alcohol isn’t flowing, huh?” He whispered like he could read my mind, and I hated it.
Rolling my hips against his hard erection, he groaned, and I whimpered at the contact. I wanted him.
“No. The voices just get louder. Make them go away, Easton, please.” I leaned forward, squeezing my thighs around his.
“Your wish is my command, baby. You want them to be quiet? I’ll make them fucking silent.” He closed the space between us, stealing my lips in another searing kiss, sucking my soul straight from my body.
Somehow, he always understood, even on just a piece of paper.
And I didn’t care what anyone said or thought. Easton was the only one who mattered now. My hands slid up his neck and into his short hair, and I pulled him to me. He groaned into my mouth and nipped at my bottom lip.
“Bed.”
One word and he stood, his hands sliding beneath my butt, holding me to him. His lips left mine to trail kisses across my jawline to my neck. I held onto him, amazed at his strength, and when he threw me down on a plush mattress, a nervous giggle bubbled from my chest.
His eyes swept over me. Moonlight cast us in a soft glow as he towered over me. He undid his belt and then slid down the zipper of his pants, his eyes never leaving mine. I was shaking with desperation for his calloused hands to trail over my skin, to leave me burning with the rough sensation that was all him.
