Page 43 of Outlaw Heartstrings
I look up into his face, almost blinded by his beauty. I want to lie, but the glint in his eyes dares me to tell the truth.
“You’re very handsome, okay?” My eyes quickly dart away from his. It’s an act of self-preservation.
Easton’s fisted hands grip the elevator railing on either side of my waist, effectively caging me in. “Then fuck your composure, Alba. Lose control for once. Kiss me.”
His tempting lips lower halfway to mine.
He waits.
Objections flood my mind, but I can’t make sense of them. It all sounds like static noise inside my head.
“Fuck it…” I hear myself whisper, and a smirk unfolds across Easton’s face.
I grab him by the front of his shirt, yank him down and crush my mouth against his.
Easton doesn’t hesitate. His fingers grasp my hips and his body crushes mine against the wall. I gasp at the feel of his erection trapped against my stomach.
Seizing the opportunity, his tongue sweeps between my parted lips, deepening what was already the hottest kiss of my life.
My fingers find themselves in his hair. I’m pulling and tugging and needing him closer. His large palm smooths down my ass, yanking my thigh up around his waist. On a groan, his hips thrust forward, giving me a feel of the equipment he’s working with, and, oh-my-god-what-is-even-happening-right-now?
With a ding, the elevator door slides open and I hear a loud gasp from right over Easton’s shoulder.
Oops!
The two of us jump apart. Well, more like, I push him off me with superhuman power. Taken off-guard, Easton stumbles backward, barely avoiding a collision with Tammy.
Tammy, the nosy waitress from the local diner.
Tammy, the biggest gossip in Fairy Bush.
Welp—R.I.P. whatever was left of Alba Anderson’s reputation around this town.
“Oh…uh…sorry,” a disoriented Easton mumbles, raking his fingers through his hair as Tammy enters.
“Carry on, kids. Never mind me,” the woman says, grinning lecherously as she perches in the corner of the elevator. She props herself against the railing and stares like she’s waiting for a show.
I stumble to the opposite corner, doing everything in my power to keep from banging my head against the closing elevator doors.What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me?!
It takes an eternity for the slow-ass elevator to finally climb to the fourth floor. When it does, I clutch Easton’s shirt by the sleeve and practically hurl myself off the lift.
Somehow, Tammy manages to catch me by the wrist. She quickly digs into the pharmacy bag that’s clenched in her hand. She slides a small foil packet into my palm. “There’s a nice, quiet stairwell that way.” She points down the hallway with her chin. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
As if.
Embarrassment and shame choke me as the elevator doors close on Tammy’s conspiratorial grin. Burying the condom at the bottom of my purse before anyone can see it, I spin on my heel and hustle toward the opposite end of the hallway.
“Holy shit…” Easton mutters, staggering after me. He reaches for my arm and I pinball around him like a dodge ball championship star.
Because I’m still reeling from that kiss. If he touches me right now, I might combust. And I can’t combust. I have to be back at my desk in like, eight minutes or something.
“Alba…” he calls my name.
I spin to face him in the quiet hallway. “That was wrong,” I blurt out, eyes wide, chest thumping, nipples tingling.
Stop tingling, Nipples! For chrissakes!
“I…I know,” Easton says, sounding way calmer than I feel.
