Page 67 of Easton

Sitting up, Easton takes off his shorts and boxer briefs while I wiggle out of my bikini bottoms.

Naked and bare and oh so beautiful, Easton leans over to open a drawer in the nightstand by the bed, where he pulls out a strip of condoms.

When he sets them on top of the nightstand, within easy reach, I remark, “Wow. Are those all for tonight?”

Grinning, he says, “Yeah. We have a lot of time to make up for, you know?”

“Isn’t that the truth? So…” I pull him down to me, my lips grazing his. “Let’s get started.”

Ido everything to and with Claire that I’ve longed to do for over a decade, using my hands, my mouth, and my cock. And though I have her slowly and sweetly the first time, our second round is hot, sweaty, and just plain wild. It’s like everything we’ve been holding back for so long finally gets released.

“Damn,” I breathe as I fall back onto the pillows.

“Right?” Claire turns to her side and starts tracing small circles on my bare chest as she murmurs, “This should have been our wedding night.”

I raise a brow. “In Vegas?”

She nods once. “Uh-huh.”

“Nah.” I shake my head. “I’m glad we’re in my bed. We can stay here forever, and we never have to check out.”

That makes her laugh. “Forever? Uh, I think we’ll have to leave sometime.”

“Yeah, but—” I roll over onto her. “—not for a while.”

Time number three goes down in the books.

And then we’re on to the shower.

Shower sex with Claire has been a huge fantasy of mine. I guess because I’ve spent so much time in there jerking off while thinking about her.

Let me tell you, the real thing is so much better.

We christen her room too.

Oh, and the living room.

Even the kitchen is not off-limits.

By the time the sun starts to rise, that strip of condoms is indeed gone. And I am fucking exhausted. As is Claire.

I don’t have practice this morning, and she has nothing planned either, so, wrapped in each other’s arms, we finally get some much-needed sleep.

It is the best rest I’ve ever had.

I’m on cloud nine. No, really—I feel so happy it’s like I’m really walking on air. In fact, I’m practically skipping when I head into the upscale downtown restaurant where I’m meeting Madison for lunch.

She’s waiting just inside the lobby, and when she sees me, she says, “My, don’t you look pretty today.” I have on a lavender sheath dress and cream-colored heels.

“Thanks,” I reply, then, gesturing to her, I say, “You’re looking quite stunning as well.”

Madison is always so put together, and today is no exception. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt with matching Louboutin pumps and a red silk blouse. Her gorgeous blonde locks are in a perfect French braid trailing down her back.

After we’re seated at a table along a painting-lined wall, and the host hands us each a menu, I catch Madison staring at me thoughtfully.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s nothing bad,” she assures me. “It’s just that what I said in the lobby is true. You look really, really great today. But it’s more than your outfit. You have a glow.” She pauses, then just flat-out states, “You look like you had some exceptionally good sex with your husband this morning.”

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