Page 130 of Sugar

Even once he was away from the incessant camera flashes, his smile stayed in place. If anything, it grew. He took in the room with the same wonder I felt before he spun to walk backward in order to speak to the people who followed him.

One of which being my incredibly attractive date.

Wow.

Easton might’ve come through the roped off area for staff, but he could’ve easily walked the red carpet and no one would’ve thought him out of place. His black suit and shirt combo was classic yet cool, and he screamed power and influence in an effortless way that some of the actors were working hard at.

And failing to achieve.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the room—one packed with some of the most beautiful people in the world—his eyes scanned the space. They didn’t stop until they landed on me. A smile began to form before his eyes dropped to slowly scan me.

Even from a distance, I could feel the searing heat of them.

His long strides ate up the distance as he stalked toward me, though I didn’t make him go the entire way. I was just as eager toget to him. As soon as I was within reach, I was in his arms and his mouth was on mine.

He kept it brief, though the frustrated curse he muttered made it obvious that wasn’t how he wanted it to go. “Christ, you look…Wow.”

“I was just thinking the same about you.” I grinned up at him, and his eyes zeroed in on my mouth.

“Okay, time to go.”

I laughed, though we both knew he wasn’t joking. Not really.

Thankfully—or not—Tripp chose that moment to join us. He kissed my cheek and attempted as much of a hug as he could get.

Which honestly wasn’t much since Easton kept me locked in his possessive hold with his arm around my waist and his hand splayed on my stomach.

And his hard-on pressed to my back.

Tripp seemed to find Easton’s greediness peak entertainment, and he chuckled as he gestured to me. “Maddie, an absolute vision.”

“Thank you.”

He barely lifted his arm when a tuxedoed server arrived with a silver tray. He plucked a flute of champagne off.

“Tripp,” Easton started, but it was unnecessary.

The champagne was handed to me before the actor grabbed one of the water bottles for himself.

I wasn’t sure how the added bubbles would sit in my nervous stomach, so I just kept hold of the glass and pretended to not feel out of place.

And pretended not to see the way some of the assistants were hardcore glaring at me.

Ohhhkay then.

“You should’ve been one of the interviewers out there,” Tripp said as he touched his water bottle to my glass. “I bet your questions would be better than what’s my best pickup line and what’s my most cringe first-date.”

“But those are the vital questions the worldneedsto know,” I said. “At least, the ones that’ll get clicks.” I took a dramatic pause. “But whatisyour best pickup line?”

He raised a brow. “Hey, I’m Tripp Carter.”

That would do it.

Not for me, but for most women.

After a few minutes, a young guy from Tripp’s team rushed from one side of the room to us. “They want you to head to your seats.”

“You heard the man,” Tripp said, using his water bottle to point to a set of doors that led into the theater.

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