Page 62 of Searching for Nova

“You okay?” Easton asks, steadying me.

“Yeah, they’re just hard to get off when I’m standing.”

“Go sit down.” He takes my arm and leads me to the bed.

“I can get it,” I say as he kneels down in front of me. I lean forward just as he does and we bump heads. I laugh. “Sorry.”

“I got this,” he says, smiling at me. As he grips the fabric, his hand brushes against my leg.

I suck in a breath, taken aback by the sudden feelings of arousal coursing through me from just the touch of his hand against my skin. He catches my eye, and the look on his face tells me he’s having a similar reaction.

I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have invited him in my room. I shouldn’t have let the towel drop. I shouldn’t be letting him touch me. So why aren’t I stopping him?

Easton’s hand pauses on my leg, his eyes on mine. This could easily lead to something we both want but know we shouldn’t do.

As if he read my mind, he looks away, back at my jeans. He slides them down my leg and gently maneuvers them off my ankle before finally taking them off.

He stands up. “Let’s see how it looks.”

I get up and yank down the dress, noticing it seems a lot smaller than when I wore it last year. I bought it for a winter dance. It was cheap so I’m not surprised it shrunk, or maybe I just grew.

“Wow,” Easton mutters as he looks at me in the dress.

“I think it’s too small,” I say, noticing how tight it is on my chest. “And way too short.” I yank it down, but it pops back up, barely covering my crotch.

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t go out wearing that,” Easton says.

“I’ll put on something else.” I grab my jeans from the floor and put them on.

Easton walks to the window and peeks through the blinds as I go back to my closet to find a shirt.

“It’s not the best view.” I yank off the dress and put on a t-shirt. “Just a parking lot.”

Easton doesn’t say anything, and when I turn back, I see him staring at me, at my body. Was he watching me change?

His eyes dart back to my face. “Um, no. It’s kind of a shitty view.”

“I just need to dry my hair and then we can go.” I return to the bathroom, which is just across the hall. As I’m drying my hair, I keep thinking of Easton and how it felt when he touched me, how just the brush of his hand on my skin had me wanting so much more.

Why do I keep doing this? Why do I keep having these feelings for Easton? I’m not even supposed to be friends with him, so anything more than that is definitely off limits. But whenever I’m with him, it’s like there’s this force drawing us together. Like in my room just now, I had no intention of doing anything with Easton, but then, when he was kneeled down in front of me, his hand wrapped around my leg, I had this intense urge to kiss him. I imagined him kissing me back, laying me down on the bed, slowly undressing me as he kissed his way down my body.

I’m sure that’s not how it would happen. Easton’s probably like every other guy, kissing me for a minute or two, then shoving my jeans down just enough to make room for his cock. A minute or two later, it’d be over. That’s been my experience with every guy I’ve been with, so why would Easton be any different?

When I’m done with my hair, I put on some makeup, just a little blush and mascara.

“I’m ready,” I say, standing at the door of my room.

Easton and I walk back to the living room.

“You better have used a condom!” Ted barks from his chair. “I ain’t taking in any more kids!”

“I’ll be back at six,” I say, ignoring his comment.

“Six? What about my dinner?”

“We’re bringing you something back,” Easton says. “What do you want?”

Ted looks at him. “You buying?”

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