Page 62 of Easton


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It was too much. I didn’t know what to do with it all. The emotions too big, too scary, too intense. I wanted to run away while simultaneously throwing myself at Easton.

My thoughts were all over the place.

Scattered. Jumbled. Messy.

I didn’t know how to fix this. I’d been taught from a very young age how to prioritize my thoughts. Arrange them in logical steps. According to Charlie, order was paramount.

But how was I supposed to organize thoughts that were flitting in and out of my mind—one flew in and darted out, and on its heels another flashed in.

My life no longer made sense.

My emotions were up and down.

My mind all over the place.

One thing was for certain; prolonged exposure to Easton Spears was bad for my mental health.

I felt a hand cup my cheek.

Calloused. Work-rough. Hard.

At the feel of it my eyes shot open.

And there he was, up close and in my personal space. His blue eyes, shades darker than mine, zeroed in then locked onto mine.

It wasn’t the sandwich, it was what it represented. It was what his eyes were right then confirming.

Care.

Concern.

Thoughtfulness.

“Hey,” he whispered.

I opened my mouth, but when no words formed I clamped it closed, my teeth catching on my bottom lip. His gaze dropped but only for a moment and when I got his eyes back I could only define them as stormy.

Yikes.

A minute. Five. An hour. I don’t know how long we stared at each other. I don’t know why or how it happened, only that it was me who pounced.

Suddenly my lips were on his and I was kissing him.

Easton went stiff.

His hand convulsed on my cheek.

Just as mortification started to set in, his palm slid into my hair, his fingers tangled in my damp strands, his other hand went around my waist, and he kissed me.

There was a distinction.

My kiss had been clumsy.

His was anything but clumsy.

It was deliciously demanding.

So delicious I lost what was left of my mind. No thoughts could possibly penetrate. All I could do was feel—the way his tongue demanded entry, (which I gladly gave) the way his hand held me exactly where he wanted me, (which, I happily stayed) but mostly I felt his hard body pressed against mine (which I seriously liked).

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