“Uh huh.”
“And this is a really, really bad idea.”
“Senseless and reckless,” he murmurs heatedly, bringing it all back so effortlessly, “so come.”
“If I do come, I will be turning you down gently.”
He replies on exhale. “I have a feeling you’ll try.”
“I’ll succeed, but I’m dying to see you play.”
Victory flits through his eyes. “I’ll give you the best seat in the house, baby.”
“Uh huh, after I travel for hours in a van full of sweaty men.”
“Five hours, six tops, depending on traffic, and I’m so fucking pissed at you right now,” he repeats, his eyes flaring, “so expect a fight.”
Before I can speak up, a horn blares obnoxiously a street over, and Easton chuckles, glancing in that direction before turning back to me. He looks so beautiful. His hair is longer, his skin darker, seeming drenched from the summer sun, which beams down on him as it lowers in the skyline.
“Natalie,” he murmurs, pulling my chin by his fingers back toward him. “I really just want to talk to you, so please don’t force me to play dirty because I have time to kill between gigs, and if you don’t get,” he bites his lip, “your perfect ass in my van, I’m going to bend you over Monday morning and bite it right in front of your daddy. Bet.”
I gape at him. “You did not just threaten me.”
“Yeah, I did, and don’t look at me like that. It’s par for the course, but don’t mistake me. I’m just A-sided enough to make good on mine.”
“This is serious,” I snap.
“You’ve made me painfully aware, Beauty,” he runs his hands down my back and presses his forehead to mine.
“Jesus,” I sigh, sinking into his hold.
“Easton,” he corrects, pointing to himself.
My grin wins again. “Stop being so…”
“Irresistible?”
He grips my face and licks his lips, and I follow the trail of his tongue.
“Easton, please,” I say breathlessly as he flashes a devil’s grin. He closes his eyes briefly before reopening them, the intensity of the man I met still there. Inside them I see nothing but a reflection of my own desire. It’s as if a second hasn’t passed at all, but so much has changed. So much, at least for him.
“You know, Mr. Crowne, months from now—probably a lot less, you’ll be selling out stadiums.”
“We’ve already sold out the Staples Center at the end of August.”
“Oh my God! That’s incredible! I truly am so…so very happy for you.” Sentiment waters my eyes as he stares at me, seeming satisfied by my reaction. “I mean, I knew it was going to happen…and I’m happy to say I told you so, and Easton, the things the critics are saying…it’s…”
His eyes glint as though he’s justified a thought or a notion.
“What?” I prompt. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Well, you seem happy,” I say. The creased line I thought was permanent between his eyes appears to have all but disappeared. He seems more approachable and, altogether…lighter.
“I’ll be a lot happier when you get the hell in the van.”
I shake my head, and he pinches his dark brows. “What?”
“Nothing. I just can’t believe you’re here and that you came all this way for me.”
“Would have come a lot sooner had you answered the fucking phone.”
“East—”
“Like I said, we’ll fight later. Let’s get you packed, okay?”
I bite my lip and find myself nodding. “Okay. But I have conditions.”
“Of course, you do,” his smile stretches his lips as his hands ghost over my skin. He can’t seem to stop touching me. I can’t seem to stop wanting him to any more than I can turn down his invitation.
“Follow me home, and I’ll pack a quick bag.”
“I’ll help,” his gaze dips to my navel.
“I’ll be packing alone.”
His eyes flick up before he grips my neck and crushes our mouths together, his kiss promising and demanding. He ends it just as abruptly.
“You can’t—”
“I just fucking did,” he replies smugly before releasing me. Running a hand through his hair, his eyes shine suspiciously as he rakes his lower lip with his teeth, dangerous plans seeming to formulate as he does. “Lead the way,” he orders, his expression flashing with smug surety before a satisfied smile blooms on his face.