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“It’sveryfucking hot,” he mutters in a deep gruff.
Yep, I might internally combust, especially when his eyes slide down to my lips and he focuses on them.
“Now who’s eye-fucking who?” I call him out, trying to calm my beating heart as I scribble down my number.
“Mmm.” It comes from his throat like a growl.
I fold and tuck it into my front jeans pocket.
I notice the black silk in his palm when he glances at his watch. Easton stalks toward me, crossing the space in long strides. Then, his hands are on my shoulders, turning me around, placing the material over my eyes.
“The car will be here in five minutes,” he says close to my ear.
“Is the blindfold necessary?”
“Yes. Considering you ruin surprises, it’s absolutely necessary.” He carefully ties it behind my head, but doesn’t step away. Instead, he moves directly in front of me. His body and mouth are inches from me as his voice falls to a low husk. “Now, tell me, darling, can you see me?”
I shake my head. “Unfortunately,no.”
“Good.”
I wish I could though, because I feel his eyes on me, studying me, trying to figure me out.
Easton is a work of art with straight lines and edges carved into his body. He’s like a sculpture and I have to stop myself from admiring him more often than not. Something that absolutelyshouldn’thappen.
He pats my shoulder, placing both hands on me as he moves me through the living room.
“Will you let me guess what we’re doing today?”
“No.” He’s abrupt. “And I wouldn’t tell you if you somehow figured it out; which you won’t. I’m too unpredictable.”
Easton stops walking and I hear the door open. He leads me out onto the porch. I imagine the stairs I walked up yesterday after we arrived and slightly panic, knowing I won’t make it down.
His hands slide under me as if he can read my mind, and I’m lifted into his arms. I hold on to him, not letting go as we descend the steps. Right now, I’m so damn thankful for this blindfold because I wouldn’t be able to look away from him. Not when he acts like Prince Charming.
Easton continues forward, carefully setting me down, keeping his hands on me until I’m steady. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t make it.”
“You’re right,” I say, licking my lips. “You can stop staring now.”
“Can you see me?” he asks, his voice low.
I shake my head. “No.”
I imagine him smirking, and those stupid butterflies flutter.
No, no, no,I think, lost in my thoughts as I chew on the corner of my lip.
Icannotfall in love with this man.
Birds chirp in the distance as the mountain breeze whips across my cheeks. I hear gravel under tires, followed by a car door swinging open. Easton places his hand on my back, guiding me inside.
“Keep the blindfold on the entire time. No peeking. I’ll meet you there.”
“Wait, what?” I barely get out before the door shuts.
The car moves forward and my heart gallops.
Thirty minutes later, the car comes to a stop, and the seconds feel like minutes as I wait. I don’t know how much time passesbefore the door opens. It feels like an hour, but it might’ve been ten minutes.