Under His Skin (For His Pleasure, Book 20) (8 page)

“Let’s go,” Easton commanded her.
 
He turned back to his brother.
 
“I want to hear back from you today,” he
said.
 
“Today, Dean---you hear me?”

Dean nodded sullenly.
 
“Fine.”

“Since you can’t handle your business, I
guess I’ll bail you out yet again,” Easton muttered, and then he was walking
toward the door of the diner, pulling Kennedy with him as he went.

His hand was gripping her arm lightly,
but the pressure from his fingertips gave her chills just the same.
 
It was amazing, Kennedy thought, that
anytime Easton so much as touched her, she dissolved into ecstasy.
 
Even when the situation and reason for
his touch was anything but sexy or positive, she still had the same intense
reaction to Easton’s physical contact.

When they got outside the diner, Easton
let go of her arm.
 

“Where are you going now?” she asked.

He turned to face her.
 
“I think you mean where are
we
going?”

She felt her cheeks flush slightly.
 
“I—I guess.”

“You’ll need to stay with me until this
mess with my brother and Jimmy DeLuca is resolved.
 
You’re not safe on your own.”

“And you can’t trust me, either,” she
joked.
 
Immediately, she regretted
saying it.

Easton’s eyes narrowed.
 
“That’s true,” he said.
 
“I can’t.”
 
And then he started walking to his car.

Kennedy followed, getting into the
passenger seat as Easton got in the driver’s side.
 
He slammed his door and started the
car.
 
“I should’ve known it would
come to this,” he said.
 
“Dean was
always determined to take everything to the limit.
 
Nothing’s changed, apparently.”

“Easton, are you sure this is the right
thing to do?
 
Meet with a known mob
boss?
 
A murderer?”

“Kennedy, in the business world, a guy
like Jimmy DeLuca is a piker.
 
I
deal with killers everyday in my world, but they’re ten times smarter than a
clown like DeLuca.”

She nodded as if agreeing with him, but
in truth she wasn’t so sure.
 
Easton
was being too dismissive, she thought.
 
Having looked into Jimmy DeLuca’s maniacal eyes firsthand, Kennedy was
fairly certain that Easton hadn’t dealt with many people as dangerous as he was,
regardless of their intelligence.

For a time, they drove in silence, and
there was nothing but the hum of the car’s engine and the sounds of city
traffic as they sped to their destination.
 

“Where are we going now?” she asked,
finally.

Easton didn’t bother looking at her as he
spoke.
 
“My house,” was all he said.

Kennedy took a deep breath but tried to
act as if this reply had been exactly what she’d expected from him.
 
“Oh,” she whispered.

He’s
taking me to his home.
 
Easton
Rather is taking me to his house.
 
First he risked his health to fight off a group of thugs, and then he
risked his job standing up to Red Jameson.
 
Now he’s bringing me into his most private space—his
home—and allowing me to spend even more time with him, despite everything
that’s happened.

This
must mean that he truly cares about me.

Perhaps
he is falling for me after all.
 

***

Easton’s home turned out to be a gorgeous
townhouse located in Murray Hill, a very fancy, romantic neighborhood on the
East Side.

As Easton let her inside she was blown
away by a magnificent foyer, and the open concept of the entire home, which was
full of dark wood and offset by the amazing light that came in through generous,
large windows.

The entire place was a work of art, tasteful
and modern, with high ceilings, the sleekest granite and marble fixtures,
ornate cabinetry and wonderful artwork hanging on the walls.

Everything about it was what she’d have
expected from a man like Easton Rather.

Easton didn’t give her a big tour or
anything.
 
He just led her inside
and gestured around, as if to say, this is my place.

“Feel free to wander,” he told her.

“This is strange,” Kennedy told him.
 
“I’m not sure what to do.”

He gave her a long look.
 
“What would you normally do?”

She ran a hand through her hair and
laughed nervously.
 
“I usually go
home and eat something fast and easy to prepare.
 
Then I change out of my work clothes
into something comfortable, or I take a bath or a nice hot shower.
 
After that I curl up and watch TV or
read a book.”

“You know, the oddest thing about what
you just told me?” Easton asked her.

“What?”

“I just so happen to have all those
things here, in this very house.”
 
He held up four fingers and counted them off.
 
“I’ve got food, and I’ve got a shower,
and TV and even books.”

Kennedy laughed again.
 
“I know, but this is your home.
 
I can’t just hang out and do whatever I
want.
 
I’m a guest.”

“You are my guest, and as your host, I’m
telling you to do everything you’d normally do in your own apartment.
 
I don’t want you feeling inhibited.”

Kennedy sighed.
 
“I also don’t have a change of clothes
or any of my own stuff here.”

Easton put a hand on her shoulder.
 
“Kennedy, I have to tell you, there’s
not exactly a shortage of department stores in Manhattan.”

“Things with your brother and Jimmy
DeLuca could take a long time to be worked out, Easton.
 
How long do you want me living here,
anyway?”

He stared into her eyes.
 
“Maybe longer than you’d think,” he
replied softly.

She swallowed hard, terrified that Easton
would laugh and say he was joking, and even more scared that he wasn’t
joking.
 
Because of course she
wanted him to feel that way, but she couldn’t believe that he actually did.

And somehow, thinking that there was even
a possibility of Easton wanting her to stay at his house with him for an
extended period of time was almost too painful to bear.
 
It was giving her hope of something
more, something long lasting with Easton, and Kennedy knew that this kind of
dream could only end in heartbreak for her.

But still, he’d said the words.

Maybe
longer than you think.

He moved away from her and started making
conversation as if he hadn’t just dropped a major bombshell of a line on her.
 
“What kind of food do you like?” he
said, opening a large stainless steel refrigerator in the kitchen and looking
into it.

“I’m not picky,” Kennedy told him.

“Let’s see…we’ve got chicken, fish,
steak.”

“Anything’s fine.
 
I’ll have whatever you’d normally have.”

Easton looked at her.
 
“Normally I’d just have a bowl of cereal.”

“Cereal?
 
Sounds perfect,” she replied, not
missing a beat.

He laughed in disbelief.
 
“I hope you realize I was joking.”

“Well it depends what kinds of cereal are
on offer,” she told him.
 
“You’re probably
all health conscious, so I doubt you have any really fun cereal to eat.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Easton said,
turning towards her, hands on his hips.
 
“You’re trying to paint me as some yuppie dude with boring cereal.
 
That’s offensive.”

“Prove me wrong.
 
Tell me it’s not something like granola
or wheat germ or some kind of flax bran flakes.”

Easton went and opened up a large door to
a walk-in pantry.
 
“I’ve got
oatmeal, raisin bran and corn flakes.”

“Yeah, that’s all boring stuff.”

“Fine.
 
Come on, then.”
 
He walked directly towards her, grabbed
her by the hand and started dragging her to the front door.

“What are you doing?” she squealed, as he
continued pulling her along with him.

“We’re going to the corner store,” he
told her.
 
“I’ll even let you pick
out the cereal all by yourself.”

Kennedy was laughing and Easton kept
pulling her toward the door as she struggled to fend him off.
 
His hands were strong, and she liked the
way it felt as he grabbed her arms.
 
She intentionally fought harder than she really needed to, even dropping
down to the floor to keep him from pulling her outside.

Easton climbed on top of her, pressing
his weight into her as he lowered himself to the floor.

They were both breathing heavily.
 

“You can’t make me go,” she said, her
chest heaving as he continued pressing his rock solid body against her.

“I can make you do whatever I want,” he
told her.

“Bullshit,” she teased.
 
Her nipples stiffened and her lower
belly tingled.

“We’re going to the store.
 
You’re going to pick out cereal and
we’re going to eat it for dinner.
 
That’s what’s happening.”

“I want to stay here.
 
Maybe I want steak after all,” she said,
intentionally sounding petulant.

“You had your chance at that.
 
Now you get cereal.
 
Keep it up and you’ll get water and bread.”

Kennedy raised an eyebrow at him.
 
“But I need something more substantial
in my mouth than that.”

She saw Easton’s eyes grow dark and his
lips were suddenly pressing into her lips, his tongue entering her mouth.
 
Then he broke away.
 
“You want something else in your
mouth?
 
Like an appetizer?” he
asked.

“Yeah, I need something to tide me over.”

“That can be arranged,” he said, his
voice a low growl, his intensity gathering as he looked down at her.
 
Easton pinned her arms to the floor and
pressed his hips hard against her, as she spread her legs and pushed upward
into him.

She was already wet and getting wetter by
the second.

His smile faded and then he was grabbing
her shirt and pulling it up and over her chest, baring her breasts.
 
He stared at her pale, trembling skin
with hungry eyes.
 
“I’m going to
suck your tits right now, Kennedy, and there’s not a damn thing you can do
about it.”

Having said that, he tore her bra off
with one quick snap of his wrist, and her breasts spilled out.
 
Easton grabbed one breast in his hand,
squeezing until the nipple arched toward him.
 
He brought his lips down and into
contact, his tongue flicking the tip of it.

Kennedy cried out.
 
She couldn’t believe how quickly this
had all happened.
 
One moment, they
were joking about cereal for dinner, and the next they were on the floor and
he’d ripped her bra off.

His tongue and lips were hot and soft and
knowing.
 
He began sucking longer
and longer, seeming to relish the taste of her.

Soon, he’d switched to licking and
sucking at her other breast.
 

Kennedy cried out again and grabbed him
by his hair, encouraging him.
 
It
was a risk, because she’d never taken hold of him like that in such an
aggressive way, but he didn’t seem to mind.

If anything, he redoubled his efforts,
massaging her breasts and sucking her nipples until it felt like she would come
from the pleasure of it.

Easton’s lips and tongue were like
nothing she could have imagined in her previous life.
 
She’d been living the life of an aging
spinster at MIT with the stuffy old professors in their tweed jackets and the
uptight grad students trying to emulate the stuffy professors.

Her life had been stale and dull and
she’d had no sexual experience to speak of.
 
Suddenly, she was having a relationship
with a powerful, exciting man with a body like a fitness model and the sex
appeal of a movie star.
 
Not only
that, but Easton wasn’t an actor playing a role.
 
He was the part, in full.
 
His chemistry with her was real in every
way.