Page 128 of Reverse

“Good.”

“God, you’re a real bastard,” I murmur, writhing beneath him, squeezing our clasped hands as he keeps them pinned.

“On this, we agree,” he murmurs in reply.

“Good,” I fire back, “because we don’t seem to agree on much lately.”

“And we won’t when you fight me on what feels like mine.”

“I wantthatpart to be true. It feels true.”

“It is, Beauty,” his possessive lilt hits before he slowly, so slowly, pushes back into me. “I’m making fucking sure of it.” He presses into me the rest of the way, staking his claim.

Fully connected, we call out to the other skin to skin, heart to heart, as he pulls back and buries himself again and again, watching me intently. Body flooding with sensation, heart soaring, I free myself to believe his words. To believe in what I feel. That this is real. Thatwewill work.

Heart rocketing to a marathon pace, I stare up at him, mouth parting as he palms my thighs further apart and watches himself disappear inside me. Keeping his thrusts slow and deliberate, forcing me to acknowledge this is so much more than attraction and sex. A truth I’ve known all along but have been too terrified to admit to both of us. The more I allow myself to feel, the more frantically we begin to move as if we’ve been apart for far longer than eight weeks.

My entire body trembles as he takes us both to the brink repeatedly and past, while staring back at me with soul-stealing intensity.

Lost in his rapture, I find myself feeling whole, and then I lose the pieces I’ve been grasping onto so tightly right back to him.

We exhaust ourselves to the point my throat dries, my voice going hoarse with my whispers and cries as he ravages me, body, heart, and mind.

At the sight of something he sees in my eyes, he dips and gives me the longest, most intoxicating kiss of my life. Inside of that kiss, I collide with my supernova going a million miles an hour, all space between us diminishing in its entirety.

Easton’s groan rumbles against my lips as he stills on a deep thrust, spilling into me again. Exhausted and spent, he rolls us and situates me on his lap, still inside me, refusing withdrawal. Feeling like I’m floating, I rest on his chest as he cradles me in his warmth. It’s only when I notice sunlight flooding the hotel room that I realize we’ve been so immersed in each other that I’d lost all sense of time.

“Easton,” I whisper, my cheek to his chest while mentally recalling I got to the party shortly past one. “We’ve been—”

“Yeah,” he runs a gentle palm down my spine, “we have.”

“I didn’t even realize.”

“I know.”

Still straddling him, I lift, glancing around in a daze before staring back down at him and palming his chest. Sweat glides down his temple, and my skin erupts in chills as I realize the sheets are soaked through. Bewildered, I shake my head. “What in the hell just happened?”

He grips my hip with one hand and strokes my face with the other, his eyes injecting me with the truth. “What’s been happening since the day we met,” he lifts to sit before pressing a long, slow kiss to my lips. “Welcome to this side of the glass, Beauty.”

THIRTY-NINE

“Heaven Sent”

Mr. Little Jeans

Natalie

“You owe me one hell of an apology,” I scold as Easton’s lips roam over my stomach.

“I believe,” he licks a slow, seductive path along my gold chain, which is surprisingly still intact after endless hours of intense lovemaking, “I’ve been apologizing profusely forhours.But I’m sorry,” he offers, pausing to look up at me. I expect to see a smirk, or at the very least, a sly smile, but instead am met with sincerity.

“Do you know what you’re apologizing for?”

He frowns. “Have you been dating nothing but toddlers? I’m sorry for being a dick yesterday,” kiss, “and last night,” kiss, “and for the song. I’m not proud of myself.”

“That song . . . you believe that’s who I really am?”

“No, I believe that’s who you portray yourself to be when you’re uncomfortable dealing with real shit.” This time he does smirk, “Sleeping Beauty.”

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