Page 44 of Easton

“There, that’s better.” I breathe out as I turn back around. “I won’t be stumbling now.”

I hear Madison snicker, and Easton just huffs.

“What?” I ask my friends.

But they say nothing.

It doesn’t matter, as the drive home is kind of a blur.

The next thing I know, we’re parked in the garage.

“Wow, that was fast,” I remark.

“I think you dozed off,” Madison says from the back.

I wave a hand and lean my head against the rest. “Whatever.”

She gets out, as does Easton, but I decide that maybe I’ll just stay right where I am. It’s so comfy in the Rover.

When Easton comes around to the passenger side and pops open my door, I tell him, “I think I’ll just sleep in here. These seats are so soft.”

Chuckling, he says, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Before I can protest, he scoops me up with ease and lifts me out of the car.

“Hey,” I grumble, but really I’m too tired to put up much of a fuss. Not to mention, I kind of like the way it feels to be cradled in Easton’s strong arms, one of his hands on my back and, even better, the other touching one of my bare legs.

“So glad I wore a dress,” I murmur.

Madison leans in and gives me a kiss on the head. “Hey, you get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, tomorrow, good…”

I hear her and Easton exchange a few indecipherable words, probably about me, and then she leaves.

As the garage door powers down, I hold onto Easton, burying my head in his chest, as he walks us into the house.

“Mmmm,” I murmur. “You’re so warm, and you smell so good. What cologne are you wearing?”

“I’m not wearing any,” he replies.

“Oh, wow. Must be the soap you used.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

As we reach the stairs, I run a hand over his pecs. “You’re so freaking muscular, Easton. I like that,” I groan. “God, I really, really like that. Have I ever told you this before?”

“I don’t think so,” he says. I feel him swallow hard, and then he rasps, “Let’s just get you upstairs and into bed.”

I snicker and lean my head back so I can look up at him. “My bed or yours?” I slur.

Damn, I was trying to sound sexy.

Refusing to make eye contact, Easton says, “Yours, Claire.”

“Are you going to join me?” I ask, giggling.

He huffs. “Claire, stop.”

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