Page 8 of The Keeper

I shift a little, and Easton’s hands grip my hips. “Lindy,” he warns.

This. Cannot. Be. Happening.

“Yeah, princess, it is.”

Huh?

Who’s he answering?

“You, baby. Now stop thinking so loud and go back to sleep.” Easton pulls the pillow off my face and tucksitand his arm under my head, positioning me so I’m snuggled between the crook of his neck and his bicep.

Just where I always wanted to be, only I have no idea how the hell I got here.

How many times have I wondered what this would feel like? And now that I know, how am I ever going to live without it again? Easton’s mouth presses against my neck, and a small moan slips past my lips.

Stupid, traitorous lips.

This isn’t right.

Maybe nothing happened.

Maybehe just fell asleep next to me.

Or maybe I finally indulged in the one thing I’ve always wanted to do but never had the lady balls to grab for myself.

Okay, time to be a big girl. Roll the fuck over and face the music.

I take a hot fucking second to cringe at the poorest excuse for a pep talk I’ve ever given myself, and I’ve given myself plenty. I’m a goddamn gold medalist. I can do pep talks. They just usually happen on the ice or in the locker room. Occasionally in a car. Once while lying in the wet grass when I fell running and had to convince myself to get the hell back up and finish the run. But never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be giving myself one in bed.

Stalling done, I try to carefully roll over without exposing any of my bits in the process, and two things happen at once. First, I say a quick thank-you to the one-night-stand gods because as I roll over, my panties go straight up my ass in the most uncomfortable way possible. Sleeping in a thong is not fun. But I’m pretty sure if I had sex with Easton last night, my panties would have been incinerated in the process. I’m hoping this means I didn’t finally give up my virginity when I was sloppy drunk to the man I’ve been half in love with since before I started shaving my legs.

The second I look up, any thoughts about how my thong is permanently wedged up my ass like dental floss or about how drunk I must have been last night evaporate into thin air. Because Easton is looking at me with the sexiest smile I’ve ever seen.Wow. That smile promises wicked things. “Mornin’, princess.”

He presses his lips to my forehead, and I’m pretty sure I melt into a puddle of goo, right here on the thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets on the massive hotel bed. My headache forgotten, I bring a shaky hand up to his neck and dig my fingers into the back of his hair.

For a single second, I let myself lie here, safe in his arms before panic sets in.

Because it always sets in.

I pull back, yanking the blanket up around my chest to cover myself while inching back against the headboard. “What the hell, E?”

Easton runs his hand up my thigh, and damn it, there go those goosebumps again, followed by a literal knee-jerk reaction when he tickles me.

As in,maybeI kick him a little.

And maybe he kinda, sorta falls off the bed.

Because really, how many more ways could this morning be more humiliating?

Easton falls to the floor, tangled up in the blanket with a thud, and I peek over at him. “What the fuck, Lindy?”

I can’t believe this is happening.

I close my eyes as embarrassment washes over me, followed by freezing cold waves of panic. With a deep breath, I hide my face in my hands. Only, when I yank my hand back, I stare in horror at the big, fat, perfect brilliant-cut diamond sitting on my ring finger, right next to a matching band.

A wedding band.

My mouth opens and shuts a few times as I try to find words. Then I look from the beautiful diamond and platinum band to the mouthwatering man now standing at the foot of the bed, shirtless and in a pair of navy-blue boxer briefs. Every inch of his golden chest is on beautiful display. Muscles stretch under taut skin. Veins bulge. It’s a sight I would love to savor if it weren’t for the shock I’m pretty sure I’m going into. Because there’s a plain black band on his left ring finger too.

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