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Tonight’s dinner isn’t a festive occasion, but if Easton and I go out after to celebrate, I want to look like I’m celebrating him and his accomplishments.
I texted him hours ago, but he didn’t reply. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He hasn’t come home, either.
I check the time. We’re supposed to be at Daire and Everleigh’s in five minutes. I hate being late.
I call Easton.
He answers, then the call drops. Or he hung up. I’m about to call him again when he comes up from the basement wearing nothing but sweat shorts and sneakers. His sweaty skin glistens. Hot damn.
“How… When did you get home?” How did I miss seeing him? Was I in the shower? Doing my hair? I did spend extra time on myself.
“An hour ago.” He chugs a bottle of Gatorade and walks to the fridge.
I follow him, my heels clicking on the wood floor. “I texted you.”
He opens the fridge door and grabs a bottle of water, chugging that too. “I needed to release some steam.”
Uh oh. At the island, across from him, I rest my hands on the cold stone counter. “I’m guessing Daire disappointed you.”
He laughs, the sound dark and twisted. “You could say that.”
“I’m sorry, Easton. I know how important this was for you.”
He stares up at the ceiling, his neck and shoulder muscles flexing, as if reining in his anger. “He did what I thought he’d do. He didn’t take me seriously. He didn’t even try the fucking bourbon.”
He swings around. When his gaze lands on me, his jaw drops a little. He walks around the island and drinks me in from head to toe. “Fuck me. Aren’t you a sight.”
Fuck him? With his tanned, glistening skin and six-pack abs, I’m thinking about it.
“Is this for the dinner?”
I almost lie and answer yes. “It’s for you, actually, to—” I can’t say the word celebrate now that we’re not. I lower my head and shrug.
“Oh.” He catches on. “Well, that’s not happening. I should have known it wouldn’t have worked out. Typical Daire, pushing me to be more and not seeing it when I am.”
“Everleigh said he’s been stressed lately, worried about everything. Maybe it has nothing to do with you. If he’s overwhelmed and struggling to focus, it’s, sadly family or close friends who get treated the worst because they know you won’t abandon them. There’s love there.”
He sets the near empty water bottle on the counter and blows out a breath. “Do you always have to be so damn sweet?”
I open my mouth but close it when he stalks toward me with a predatory look, bare-chested and angry, although I don’t think it’s directed at me.
He touches the tie to my dress. The only thing holding it together. He tugs a little and watches my face for my reaction.
I want to stop him. I should. He’s upset and not thinking. I also shouldn’t be turned on by this, but God help me, because my panties are soaked. My breathing quickens when he pulls the tie, undoing the bow. The dress falls open, revealing my chocolate-colored bra and panties.
Again, he watches my face for my reaction. Will I stop him? Close my dress?
I do neither. I’ve never been so turned on before in my life, and he hasn’t even touched me.
“Easton?” It’s a desperate whisper.
“Turn around and face the island.”
I hesitate for a second, then turn, giving him my back.
“Take off your dress.” His voice sounds husky and on edge. “Sadie, show me that perfect ass.”
I shiver and lower the dress, placing it on the counter. I’m wearing a thong.
