Page 62 of Something Reckless

ALBA

T he hem of my blush pink dress swishes around my knees as Easton leads me through the field of flowers overlooking the town of Fairy Bush.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get a reservation at one of the restaurants in town for our date tonight.” Glancing back at me over his shoulder, he offers a sheepish expression.

I stare out at the serene lookout at Marigold Peak and the color show of lights at the sun sets. “I suspect that this option might be infinitely better.”

This lookout holds so many memories for us. Teenaged bonfires. Breaking curfew. Drinking things we shouldn’t have been.

But right now, all I see is Easton Raines, framed by the sea of yellow flowers rising up all around us. And I know that we’ll be making yet another memory tonight.

He grabs my hand, stopping in his tracks just long enough to bring my knuckles to his lips. “Still can’t believe you’re here with me…” he whispers, his dimples denting his stubbled cheeks when he smiles.

“There’s honestly no place in the world I’d rather be right now,” I admit.

I feel so lucky that this man is mine. I feel cherished. When he says he loves me, I know he means it. Because to him, ‘I love you’ is more than three little words. ‘I love you’ is backed up by actions.

It’s the way he showed up at my house this morning even though he was scared out of his mind.

It’s the way he took Jagger to the hockey rink earlier afternoon, because to Easton, making the little boy secure in their bond is just as important as securing his relationship with me.

It’s the way he made sure to pick up some donuts from Sweetie’s for me on the way back home.

I’m lucky. So lucky. Being loved by this man makes me the luckiest girl alive.

He’s exceptionally handsome this evening, in a white button-down. His waves are perfectly shaggy, his beard is freshly groomed, and he smells so good. Like really good.

He releases my hand, plucks a large checkered blanket from the picnic basket he’s carrying and spreads it on the ground. Then together, we kneel on the blanket, laying out the croissants, cheeses and fresh fruit we brought along with us.

Then, Easton sits on the blanket, stretching his arms wide for me. With a smile on my face, I crawl over to him, tucking myself against his strong, broad chest.

The view from Marigold Peak is breathtaking at this time of evening as the setting sun dims in the sky. Shades of yellow, orange, blue and purple stretch across the canvas overhead.

The sky is tie-dye, and I don’t care what anyone has to say about that.

“Hi…” he whispers, slipping a delicate marigold behind my ear.

“Hi…” I reply, twisting in his arms and tracing my fingertip down the bridge of his strong nose.

He grabs my hand, playfully nibbling on my digits. I giggle like a mindless schoolgirl. Being with him just feels so good, so right. Despite the uncertainty of the future, knowing we’ll be facing it together makes me strong. It takes all my fears away.

“I want to read something to you,” he announces.

I ease off of his chest so he can grab the book that’s been hidden at the bottom of the picnic basket. My favorite Emma Stanley-Westbrook book. The story of Tyler and Emily.

Easton reclines on the blanket, one arm slung beneath his head like a pillow. I reclaim my spot, cuddled against his side.

He opens the book to a page I’ve read so often, my favorite passages underlined in red ink and the margins annotated with hand-drawn hearts and smily faces.

In this scene, Tyler is ready to win Emily back, but first, he must win over Emily’s overprotective father. When Easton begins to read Tyler’s declaration to his future father-in-law, I hold my breath.

“ I don’t ‘just’ love her. This feeling is bigger than love.

I roll over in bed every morning, praying that she had the sweetest dreams. When I’m making my first cup of coffee, I think about the two heaping spoons of sugar she stirs into her green tea.

At lunchtime, before I take the first bite of my meal, I wonder if she’s taken the time to eat.

When I step through my front door in the evening, I get visions of her running down the hallway into my arms. Night time is the worst, because the chill from my cold sheets claws at me while I struggle to sleep without her in the spot next to me.

I worry about her. I wonder about her. I pray for her—and I’ve never been a praying man.

She lives inside my bones. She inhabits my lungs.

She throbs in my veins. I don’t just love her.

The man I’m meant to be in this world doesn’t exist unless I’m with her . ”

Easton’s stare finds mine and he wipes the tears spilling from my eyes. “That scene steals my breath every time,” I whisper.

“It’s a good scene.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “But it doesn’t even begin to do justice to the way I feel about you.”

Swoon.

Laying side by side in the field, we take turns, reading to each other.

Easton exhales contentedly, his large palm caressing up and down the curve of my spine.

“I’m so fucking happy you’re here with me, Alba.

I know I pulled away when you needed me and I failed to make you feel secure but I’m sorry, and I can assure you that I will never do that again. You know that, right?”

I search my heart, I search my soul, and then I respond. “I know…” I swallow down my bubbling nerves. “I’ve never felt more confident in another person’s love for me.”

Easton and I have both made mistakes. But I believe that we’ve both learned our lessons. Losing each other is too high a price to pay.

He squeezes me tightly. “I love you so much, Alba. I can’t even explain it to you. I don’t care what happens next. Just know I will shoulder any burden, I will slay any dragon for you and Jagger.”

Tears gather in my eyes. “Gosh. I love you, Easton.”

Gently angling my chin with his knuckles, he brings his lips to mine. In between kisses, we murmur a thousand ‘I love you’s. We touch each other. We caress each other. And the temperature between us begins to mount .

“Get on top of me,” he commands in a growl. The gravel in his voice lights a spark at the base of my spine. When his hand hooks around the back of my thigh, I swing my leg across his waist, straddling him.

“Easton…” I croak out his name when I feel the hardness of his erection, already waiting for me.

He grips my waist, directing me to rock back and forth, in time with his own movements. “God, yes. Alba,” he responds before taking my mouth in another gentle kiss.

My wandering hands search for his skin, roaming over his chest and down his torso. But I need more. So I begin undoing the buttons of his shirt right as his fingertips are slipping beneath the hem of my dress.

“Touch me…” I say in a broken plea as I impatiently try to rip his shirt from his torso.

It’s only now beginning to register how much I need him, how much I missed him over the days when we were apart.

He twists and contorts his body, dragging the long sleeves of his shirt down his arms until he’s shirtless.

With a smile, he brushes his soft lips against mine. “Anything you want, Tiny Tiger. I’ll give you anything you want.”

Easton’s tongue slides against mine and, on cue, warmth floods my panties.

My hips rotate on their own, grinding my pelvis against his.

He takes that as an invitation to slip his hand under the edge of my underwear and his massive palm cups one entire globe.

My pussy throbs at the way he squeezes and kneads my behind.

He looks up at me as if mesmerized. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are right now?” His eyes do a slow, heated skim of my upper body.

His attention hooks on my breasts and I feel a blush rush across my skin.

My nipples are tingling and when I look down, they’re proudly pebbled and begging for attention through the thin fabric of my dress.

Easton doesn’t disappoint. He cups them, squeezing gently before leaning up to capture my right breast with his mouth.

“Oh my…” I throw my head back and moan in surprise as Easton sucks my nipple, right through the linen of my dress.

“Grind down on me, Alba. Harder,” he commands in that throaty voice I can’t help but obey. I drag my hips back and forth, back and forth, making sure to grind my clit along the rigid length of his shaft.

Easton grasps the lace of my panties and gives one hard tug. I whimper at the sound of the fabric shredding in his hand.

“You’ll be replacing those,” I threaten as I watch Easton fling my damaged undies across the grass.

“My pleasure, baby. It’s a fucking honor, getting to spoil you.” His fingers glide up the inside of my thigh until he’s tracing a tender line along my soaking pussy lips. My legs open wider.

“Easton,” I whimper.

He gently thumbs my clit.

“Getting to touch you.”

He presses down, adding pressure and circling the little nub again.

“Getting to fuck you.”

He slides one finger through my folds, easily filling my hole.

“I’m going to spoil you for the rest of your life.”

I whimper, my fingers finding themselves in his hair. “God, yes.” My mouth falls open as he stuffs me with his finger. In and out. In and out. I ride his hand, wanting to feel him deeper, wanting to control the pace, wanting everything he’s not giving me.

My walls tighten and release, desperate, shameless, hungry. So hungry.

My nails dig into his strong pec. “More, Easton. More.”

“More what?” he asks, his tone taunting me.

I curl my pelvis forward before thrusting back. “More fingers.”

“More fingers? Plural?” A wicked smirk overtakes his face. “You want to take all my fingers inside your tight cunt, don’t you?”

His words. Fuck . His words.

My desperation consumes me just as my good sense flees the scene. “Yes.” I nod my head.