Page 95 of Outlaw Heartstrings
“Next time, you’ll get to pick your second fantasy,” he promises me as he reluctantly pries himself away.
“Fine,” I say, sounding a little grumpy to my own ears.
Easton chuckles quietly. “Good night, Tiny Tiger.”
I sigh like a hopeless fool. “Good night, Mr. Tower.”
Reluctantly, I let him walk away, watching from the front window as Easton goes down the stairs and climbs into his car.
When he pulls away from the curb, I finish getting ready for bed, making sure to go in search of some fresh batteries for my vibrator. I’m going to need them tonight. I swear, I’ve never felt so hot and needy. These last few weeks with Easton around have been brutal.
Before I can switch out the batteries, my phone dingswith a new email.I consider ignoring it because—hello, impending orgasm!—but something pulls me to check it.
My heart skips a beat when I see that it’s the results of my realtor exam. I hurriedly click on the message, only to wish I never opened it.
I failed.
Again.
35
EASTON
Iwake up with a smile on my face, and as I stretch my arms and legs into my morning starfish, I can’t help but wish that Alba were here with me.
Last night was incredible. Touching Alba. Tasting her. Watching her fall apart for me. It was an out-of-body experience. I still can’t believe I got so fucking lucky.
I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I left her house last night. Even after showering and brushing my teeth once I got home, I could still smell the scent of her skin, I could taste her, I could hear her sexy, little moans echoing in my head.
My hand strokes my morning wood through my boxers as my thoughts wander to my favorite memory from last night—eating Alba’s pussy right there on the front porch. That was crazy. We could have gotten caught. But I’d do it all over again if I could.
Hell—I can’t wait for the next time.
Staring at the ceiling now, I let myself imagine what morning time might be like over there at Alba’s place. Coffee brewing. Waffles in the toaster. Jagger trying to pour his owncereal while talking her ear off about whatever book he’s zooming through at the moment.
It sounds like the perfect kind of chaos to me.
Without a second thought, I snatch my phone off my nightstand and call Alba to see what their plans are for today.
It rings and rings. I swallow my disappointment when she doesn’t pick up. I’m sure she’s busy.So I don’t immediately call her again and that takes all of my self-control. Instead, I settle for rolling out of bed and starting my day.
I’m sitting down to eat my freshly cooked turkey bacon and eggs when the phone rings, Alba’s name flashing on my screen.
Grinning to myself, I accept the call. “Heya Tiny Ti—”
“Dad?”
I blink in surprise when Jagger’s voice comes through the phone instead of Alba’s.
“Jag? What’s wrong? Where’s your Mimi?”
“She’s sick,” he says, and my fork clatters to the table next to my uneaten breakfast. “I tried to make her some toast, but I don’t know how to make her feel better.”
I’m already on my feet, grabbing a T-shirt and pulling it over my head. “Okay, little man. Listen carefully, I’m on my way over, okay? Don’t you worry. I’m on my way.”
I drop everything, jump in my car, and race over to Alba’s house. Jagger left the front door unlocked, just like I instructed before we hung up. Chest thumping, I barge inside the house and rush into Alba’s bedroom.
My feet skid to a halt when I find her buried under the covers. Jagger is curled up next to her, holding his finger to his lips—telling me to be quiet—and looking downright worried about his aunt.
