Page 102 of Delicate Storm

“Your what?” My brows shoot up toward my hairline as I stare down at the key.

“My apartment,” he repeats. “I’m sick of leaving it to chance to see you.”

“Ah…we could start with phone numbers. This is—”

“I’m not asking you to move in. I just figured we needed another option instead of sex in a goddamn gym bathroom.”

Sucking my lips into my mouth, I picture said bathroom and giggle until another location comes to mind. “We also have a very public event full of almost everyone you know.”

Easton smirks and it hits me in the chest. Don’t get me wrong, I like my grumpy asshole, but when he smiles… God, he could melt the most impenetrable heart.

“Very funny. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” I smile until I think his offer through. “What about Isaac? What if he comes in one night or hears me?”

“Isaac spends Wednesday nights at my mom’s. I have a late meeting, but I want you there when I get home.Waitingfor me.”

Jesus. Why is that so hot?

“How late is late?” I challenge him while my chest burns with excitement.

“I’m usually home by nine.”

“Oh, shame. I’m usually asleep by nine.”

“That’s fine by me, but I’ll be waking you with my tongue.”

My God, I love this man’s mouth. “Are you going to dictate what I’m wearing too?”

“If you’re wearinganything, I’ll be disappointed.”

I smile though I don’t think he’s joking. At all. And I kind of like that. Plus, it’s Wednesday today and I could definitely use some time together.

“So you trust me with the key to your family home?”

“Is that your way of saying that I shouldn’t?” He bites back another smile and I laugh. At least, I do until the gossip article reminds me that I shouldn’t.

“The media have been saying some things about me,” I say, deciding to give him a reason to trust me, by being open.

“I don’t care for gossip.”

“Some of it’s true.”

His eyes briefly widen before he schools his features. “Will it hurt Isaac?”

“No, I don’t think so. They’re just words. About me. And I’d never let that happen. But it’s not very nice and—”

Easton steps forward, his fists clenched. “Did it hurtyou?”

My heart slams in my chest at his protective stance, his penetrating gaze a force against my need to put him at ease. But I win.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” So what if it ruins my reputation and makes me look like the bad guy. There are more important things in life, right?

Easton continues his visual standoff, trying to catch me in a lie, and I stare right back before raising an eyebrow as I smirk. “I promise.”

I should be used to this by now, but I’ve worked hard to give myself a good name. I grew up in the public eye. Everything I do, say, or wear has been curated to portray the life I want people to see. Or the life my mom wanted people to see.

What they’re saying now may not align with that version of me, but it’s also not exactly a lie, apart from the reports that I hurt Christian.

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