Page 48 of Something Reckless

ALBA

T he words grow blurry on the page in front of me. My eyes struggle to stay open. But I’m determined to get through the rest of this practice-exam before I go to sleep.

The house is quiet now. Easton came over with dinner earlier. After the three of us ate together, Easton and Jag cleaned up the kitchen and played a board game together so that I could focus on studying.

I heard their voices in the hallway a few minutes ago as Jagger ran by to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. If I had to guess, I’d say the two of them are probably reading a bedtime book at the moment.

I am so grateful to have Easton here. Ever since I agreed to give the realtor test one last shot, he’s been so wonderful about taking things off my plate and allowing me the time to hone in on my studies.

He’s here every night of the week, helping me with whatever needs to get done around the house. He shows up here every Saturday morning at 11:00 a.m. like clockwork, and takes us over to his place for the weekend .

And the way he is with Jagger makes my heart melt—patient, kind and fun—he’s the perfect role model.

No. More than that. Easton is the best thing that’s happened to Jagger and me in a long, long time.

True—the paternity test results are still pending. But we’re all pretty confident about how that’s going to go. So all we can do in the present moment is move forward, enjoying every minute we have together until the future reveals its plans to us.

It makes me so mad at myself to think about how long I kept the two of them apart.

I hate how unsafe it felt to let Easton in.

I got so used to being disappointed and abandoned by the people I relied on.

That’s why I spent years trying to shelter Jag from having to experience the same kind of betrayal I’ve come to know so well.

But now, Easton has showed me that I was wrong. And more importantly, he’s forgiven me for my fucked up choices.

My head jerks up off the pillow. My eyes snap open and I realize that I dozed off, drooling on my exam prep book.

“No, Alba. You can’t fall asleep. Not yet,” I scold myself.

I roll my weary body out of bed, and stretch my arms overhead. Then I shake out my hands and bounce on my toes for a few seconds before trying to return to my textbook. But when I get back to studying, I still can’t keep from falling asleep.

Needing something to really wake me up, I grab my phone, set the volume on low and cue up my music app. Bluest Flame by Selena Gomez and Benny Blanco is the first song that starts playing, and I just go with it.

I let the song flow through my limbs. I just let my body do what feels natural. Pumping my arms in the air, I thrust my shoulders and shimmy my hips and rotate my butt in a jerky circle, all while trying to be quiet so I don’t disturb Jagger.

My dance moves aren’t the best. There certainly won’t be a lineup of strip club recruiters banging down my door anytime soon. But as I move my body, I imagine that I’m putting on a sensual, private show for Easton.

I run my hands all over my curves and imagine him telling me that I drive him crazy, that I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, that he doesn’t want anyone but me.

Maybe I’m delusional and alarmingly separated from reality, but my blood starts pumping and eventually, I’m fully awake again. I’m breathless but grinning as the song approaches its end.

Rising onto my tiptoes, I make my best attempt at a dainty ballerina spin. That’s when I see Easton standing in the door way. I trip on the rug and I go flying.

“Oh my god. How long have you been standing there?” I choke out, after landing ungracefully into Easton’s strong, waiting arms. Heat immediately rushes to my cheeks.

“Long enough to get a fucking hard-on.” Looping his biceps around me, he steps inside, closing my bedroom door behind him with his foot. “Damn, Alba. I never knew you could move like that.”

I roll my eyes, squirming out of his grasp, dropping onto the bed and flinging a pillow at him as the music plays. “ Please . I’m not even a good dancer.”

“I beg to differ.” He runs his hand down the very obvious bulge in his gray sweatpants. “Then again, I find everything about you sexy.” He shrugs.

My cheeks burn like a summer inferno. The way he stares at me sets my skin on fire.

Grabbing my hand, Easton pulls me back to my feet. “Oh, don’t stop shaking that sexy butt now.” He tangles me in his arms again, pulling me flush against him. “Come on. Dance for me, baby.” He rotates his hips, rubbing his erection against me and grinning a goofy grin.

I can’t help my own grin. “You are ridiculous. You know that?”

“Ridiculously sexy, you mean?” His hands smooth down my ribcage to grip my waist, and somehow, I find my body moving in time with his.

Just like that, I’m getting turned on, too. “Yes, actually. Ridiculously sexy.”

Easton’s mouth is on my throat, planting wet kisses there as we dance. The old floorboards creak loudly under our feet and I open my mouth to protest. But Easton seems to be anticipating what I’m going to say.

“Jagger’s sound asleep, Alba. You don’t have to worry about getting caught.” Even still, he twists the lock on my bedroom door just in case.

A sigh spills from my lungs and I find myself softening into his embrace.

As we sway to the next pop song in cue, Easton leans in, kissing the delicate spot beneath my ear.

He clasps my ass in his large palms. Massaging, lifting, separating the globes in a way that makes my pussy shudder with one vulgar throb after the next.

My studying is long-forgotten, the urgency of grasping land use controls and property disclosures floating off into the ether.

But right as I’m about to melt in his hands like a pile of sex-starved goo, Easton whispers in my ear, “A loan contract between a borrower and a lender that gives the lender the right to take ownership of the borrower’s property if the borrower fails to repay the loan amount… Shit—that was a mouthful. ”

I blink, the words not quite registering in my lust-hazed brain. “What…?”

He pulls back and smirks at me. That’s when I notice the exam question sheet that’s somehow in his hand. “Answer the question, Alba.”

I shake my head. “How am I supposed to study when you’re dry-humping me like there’s no tomorrow?”

His lips graze softly over mine. “Your old way of studying isn’t working. So let’s try to make some new neural pathways, shall we?”

I literally cackle. Then I slap a palm over my loud mouth. “I’m not sure that’s how neural pathways are made.”

“This is very scientific, Alba. Trust the process,” Easton says scoldingly. “Now, I’ll repeat the question. What do you call a contract where the lender has the right to take ownership of the borrower’s property if the borrower fails to repay his debt?”

I give my head a little shake, trying to reach into my knowledge bank as this gorgeously distracting man rubs himself against me. “Um, a…a mortgage,” I reply.

Easton pumps a fist in the air. “Ding-ding-ding! Correct answer!” He smacks the curve of my behind. “See? Learning is fun.”

Clinging to the back of his neck, I laugh. “Yes, learning is fun.”

“Next question—list some of the expenses that a condo owner is responsible for paying.” His hands drag up under the hem of my tank top as he leans in and licks my throat.

“Fuck…” I pant, my mind going foggy again, but this time for a totally different reason. “Mortgage expenses…property taxes…insurance premiums…condo association fees… ”

He bites my neck, making me hiss. “Correct again. You’re on a roll, baby.”

The music plays on low in the background, switching from song to song. Easton gets me hopelessly worked up as he goes over my test prep questions with me.

We cover financing, property valuations, title transfers and environmental laws. He keeps his hands and his lips on me, stopping periodically to sift through my printouts and text books for questions to ask me.

By the time we’re going over the principle of supply and demand, he’s teased my body into a frenzy.

“If the real estate inventory in an area increases while the number of potential buyers in the market decreases at the same time—”

“Prices will decrease,” I pant out as the song changes again.

“Good girl…You’re doing so well…” Easton smiles approvingly as he spins me around, pressing his front against my back. He bends me over the bed as he leans forward to grab a different textbook.

“Oh god…” I moan.

“Let’s keep going…” he encourages, softly thrusting his pelvis against my ass.

Is he for fucking real? I’m so freaking turned on, I’m about to pass out.

How am I supposed to keep going when he’s calling me a ‘good girl’ and his erection is lodged at my core and my thoughts are a mess?

I am so done playing this game.

We’re still bent over my bed. I grip his forearm, forcing his hand between my legs. “Easton. Please.”

He drops the book without hesitation. He buries his face in the hair at my nape. “You want to come, baby?” His voice is thick and raspy, only intensifying the buzz in my body.

“Yes…” I say on a little gasp, my ass grinding subtly against his crotch.

Easton grasps my hips. Pulling me against him. Hard. “Don’t hold back, Alba. Let your body move.”

I push my weight against him, rubbing harder. He groans.

His hands run up my torso to cup the undersides of my breasts. His thumbs brush over my nipples.

I take a deep breath and search my mind for coherent, civilized thoughts. But only grunts of pleasure and primitive sounds come out.

One of Easton’s hands moves downward, the tips of his fingers teasing the elastic of my satiny pajama shorts.

I squeeze my thighs together as anticipation crests inside me.

Easton drops his head against my shoulder and groans. “Fuck. Can I touch?”

My ass arches on instinct, searching for contact with his erection. “Please.”

“Please what?” he taunts me.

I’ve lost all shame by this point. “Please touch me. Easton, please. Touch me between my legs.”