Between Him and Us Read online

  “Such an interesting song choice.” I pressed my palms against the center of his chest, pushing back so I could continue to look at him. “Come to think of it, you sorta remind me of Barry. You got that whole eighties, macho man look going for you. Except without all the hair.” I brushed my fingers through his beard, moving upward to comb my fingers along the side of his head.

  “Is that right?” He moved closer, his lips barely an inch away. My eyes fluttered shut, counting the seconds until his lips touched mine, waiting to feel his soft warm lips, anticipating the second his tongue would wrap around mine and make me lose all common sense. None of that happened.

  Instead, he tickled me.

  “Oh. My. God. Easton! Don’t!” I warned, trying my best to squirm out of his hold. “Pleeeeeease.” My laughter was uncontrollable. “Pl-please! Me-mercy! Me-mercy—” My knees buckled, but he held me against the door and I grabbed on to his biceps for balance. “Eeeeaston. Please.” I laughed until I was breathless and my stomach cramped. “I ca-can’t . . .”

  “Okay, okay. Don’t want you having an accident.” He laughed then let up but still held me with his body pressed against mine. His eyes bore into mine, reaching somewhere deep inside me. “I thought I was picking you up?”

  “I couldn’t wait—” I stopped short and shrugged, taking another deep breath. “I had nothing going on, and I got bored, so I figured why not just drive on over,” I answered nonchalantly. I didn’t need him knowing I had missed him—a little.

  “Miss me that much, huh?”

  “Honestly?” I cocked one eyebrow. “I was getting hungry.”

  He chuckled. “You’re full of it. Come. Wanna help?” We locked hands, and he led me toward the kitchen.

  “I’d love to.”

  “I got quite a bit prepped already. The dough takes a while, so I made sure to do that first.”

  Narrowing down date night ideas, we finally came to the conclusion that an easy and fun date would be best. Nothing fancy, just another chance at getting to know each other more and without any interruptions. So, when Easton suggested a casual night in of dinner and dancing, the stress of preparing for an official first date was alleviated—almost.

  I still couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit apprehensive. The last time, our night consisted of good conversation that led to amazing sex, only to have me breaking down after it was all said and done. A repeat incident of the latter would make for a bad night.

  Easton fell into step behind me, his hand on the small of my back as he whispered close to my ear. “You wore a dress. You have no idea what that does to me.” I fought the urge to fall back into his arms and question how he had that kind of effect on me, but another feeling took over entirely.

  “Hey.” He slid his arm around my waist, my back to his front as he added gently, “No expectations. We’re here to have fun and enjoy each other’s company.”

  Slowly glancing over my shoulder, I asked, “Why would you say that?”

  “Your body, it’s tense.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’ll never have to do anything you’re not comfortable with when you’re with me. Always remember that.”

  I closed my eyes for a brief second, only to whip them open at the unexpected connection of Easton’s palm smacking my ass.

  I yelped, and he laughed.

  “Now, get in there and cook me my dinner, woman.”

  My eyes fell to tiny slits as I stared at him, half-grimacing half-grinning. He stuck his tongue out and made a goofy face, which had me giggling, allowing the lighthearted feeling to take over.

  “Can I get you a beer?”

  “I’ll get it,” I offered since I was closer. “Can I get one for you, too?”

  “Please.”

  After I closed the refrigerator door, I held out a bottle for him and nodded to the empty vase sitting on the counter. My mother never left a vase out empty. Then again, my mother never left a room empty of some kind of floral arrangement, aside from our bedrooms.

  He followed the direction of my inquiry and smiled. “I wanted you to be able to choose which flowers to fill the vases with,” he answered my silent question, gesturing his chin toward the empty vase in the living room then changed the music to something a bit mellower. “I figured it was a perk of living above a flower shop.”

  “That sounds fun, thank you.” Our eyes lingered. That unexplainable feeling was passing between us again, and this time it felt ten times stronger. Standing there, suspended in time, we allowed the force to move through us naturally.

  All too soon the moment ended. Easton tapped the neck of his bottle against mine and made a toast, “To a night of food, fun, and laughs.”

  “To a good night.” I held my bottle up and took an extra-long sip. “Any special instructions? I have never made homemade pizza before.”

  “Well, first . . .” Easton set his beer on the counter and held an apron out in front of me. “We need to protect that pretty dress of yours.” He twirled his finger, signaling for me to turn around. He draped the apron over my neck and tied me up tight.

  “Where’s yours?”

  He shook his head slowly, smirking, totally admitting that he was up to no good. “Aprons are for beginners.”

  “There you go again.”

  “Well, it’s true . . . unless you’re one of the special ones with beginners luck.” He pressed a playful kiss on my lips, and I refused to let him get away that easy and pulled him closer. His tongue met mine, the taste of beer mingled with something sweet had me wanting more, but I had to pull away before we were too far gone.

  “If you keep that up, we’ll definitely be eating at midnight.”

  “And is that such a bad thing?” Easton grabbed his beer and eyed me. He didn’t need to say more, I already knew the answer to that one.

  “All right.” I clapped my hands together, ready to get to work. “Where do we begin?”

  “Let’s wash our hands first.”

  “Got it.”

  With cleans hands and an eager attitude, I asked, “What’s next?”

  “The oven needs to be preheated to four hundred and fifty degrees. The pizza stone’s already in there.” He opened the refrigerator and dug around while I set the oven’s temperature. When I caught sight of each veggie container he pulled from the fridge and stacked in his arms, my appetite shrank. “Don’t worry.” He came to stand with his chest barely pressed to my back, slowly reaching around me, setting the containers on the counter. “I thought we could do half with toppings you like, and the other half with ones I like.”

  “Um-hm,” I answered, biting the inside of my cheek and fighting the moan working its way from my chest. The warmth of his body seeping through the cotton of my dress made me quickly forget exactly what it was we were supposed to be doing.

  Easton chuckled and turned toward the counter, leaving me to catch my bearings, and I prayed I wasn’t embarrassing myself too much. By the time I had gathered my composure, he had the dough rolled out onto a handled wooden board and was brushing olive oil over it.

  “Would you like to do the honors?” He handed me the ladle.

  “Love to.” I scooped some marinara sauce from the bowl and spread it evenly over the dough. “This is the fanciest pizza I ever made.” I spread the sauce in circles, making sure to cover the entire circle. “What am I saying, this is the first pizza I’ve ever made.” I set the ladle down. “What’s next?”

  “Cheese first, then the toppings. We can add more to the top right before we stick it in the oven.”

  As I grabbed a handful of shredded cheese, Easton placed his hands on my hips, lowered his voice, and instructed, “Spread it evenly . . .” His hands roamed along the side of my hips. “All over the top.” He snuck his fingers under the hem of my dress, sliding gentle strokes along my warming skin. “Nice and easy, we want to spread it evenly.” Gently he gripped the inside of my thighs and slowly pulled them apart. My knees were on the verge of buckling when he snuck his th
umbs higher, brushing the outer strip of cotton on my lace panties. I leaned back into him, forgetting whatever it was I was doing. I dropped the handful of cheese, not caring where it landed, and moaned, “Easton.” I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensations his touch was creating. When my nipples hardened, I reminded myself to breathe.

  “Do you know what I love?” With the tip of his nose, he drew circles in the crook of my neck.

  His touch sent a million tiny waves of need rippling through my entire body, and I barely got the words out. “And what is it that you love?”

  “Your skin. It’s smooth and soft, and you always smell so sweet. It makes me want to do all sorts of things to you.” The soft kisses he pressed against my skin had my muscles quickly losing tension. The room grew warm, and it wasn’t because of the high oven temperature. I opened my eyes, reached for my beer, and paused, remembering what it was we were doing.

  “Easton!”

  “What?” He laughed, slowly withdrawing his hands before righting my dress and stepping back. “Sorry, Sunshine. I couldn’t help myself.” Easton smiled apologetically.

  “You better wash your hands.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  While he did that, I tried to fix the mess I’d just made of the cheese. When he was back, I gave him a side-glance, letting him know I wasn’t okay with any more funny business, and we set to adding the toppings.

  On my half, I added pepperoni and two heaping handfuls of mozzarella cheese while Easton went to town adding onions, peppers, mushrooms, and some other stuff I didn’t care for. By the time he was done, I hoped the pizza would bake thoroughly since it definitely was not proportioned properly.

  “What is that?” I asked, watching him sprinkle something over the pizza stone.

  “Corn meal so the crust doesn’t stick. Here, let’s get this in the oven.”

  Watching how fluidly and with ease Easton moved about in the kitchen, I silently questioned if he ever had proper training or schooling. I could picture him graduating at the top of his class from some prestigious New York culinary institute. He made the art of cooking look as if anyone who tried could create an appealing masterpiece. It also helped that he was an exceptional “hands on” teacher.

  The pizza slid off the board, transferring perfectly onto the stone. He shut the oven, set the timer, and turned to face me. “We’ll check it in about fifteen minutes,” then he leaned back against the edge of the counter, crossed one ankle over the other, and took a long pull of his beer all while keeping his eyes on me.

  This flower shop working, home cooking, gallantly striking man intrigued me. He was nothing like the macho and cocky kind of guy I was used to. Easton was robust and masculine, but kind. He took sexy to a whole new level and had an air to him I found refreshing.

  “That was fun.” He smiled and nodded. “Did you learn all your culinary skills from your grandmother?”

  “Mostly. You can learn a lot from the internet, too.”

  I guess he is self-taught.

  Our eyes connected again, like they did that first time in the cemetery, and I couldn’t look away. The intensity, the weight from his warm, honey gaze held me rooted and captivated. Something about the way his eyes assessed mine made me think of Tyler. My heart rate spiked again, and a raging warmth coursed through me.

  Please don’t do this to me right now.

  I took the last sip of my beer and held the bottle up, hoping he couldn’t see my hand starting to shake. “Do you recycle?”

  “I do.” He took the bottle from me and disposed of it in a compact recycling bin. When he resumed his stance, he also made sure to lock his eyes with mine again. “You feel that, don’t you?” he asked, entranced and unmoving.

  I nodded, not able to produce any kind of words.

  Standing there in the silence, I wrestled with the rampant emotions running through me. I had no idea how to process what was happening. Aside from Tyler, I really had no romantic experience with men.

  “What do you say we run downstairs real quick and grab those flowers?”

  “Good idea.” I didn’t hesitate before striding from the kitchen, Easton close on my heels.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d want tulips again or something different.”

  “I’m sure whatever you would have chosen would have been fine. All the flowers in the shop are pretty. Oh, and I forgot to mention that your aunt asked me to tell you that she locked up and headed home.”

  “I figured, but thank you.”

  We made our way down the stairs, and as I stood dead center of the shop, I looked around at all the beautiful flowers and arrangements, not having a clue as to which to choose. They were all so pretty.

  “Is your aunt going to be okay with us taking flowers from her shop?”

  “She’ll be fine. Besides, one of the benefits of working here is the lifetime flower allowance.”

  “Right! Because that is a benefit you’ll want to take advantage of.” I laughed at this man and his corny way with words. It was something I found myself looking forward to each and every time we talked. It made him unique in my eyes. Most men nowadays were so caught up in themselves that they cared too much what people thought. Easton couldn’t care less. Being comfortable with himself was all that mattered.

  “I’m taking advantage of it right now.” He slid his arm around my waist and brought me back close to his chest. “But I would rather be taking advantage of you.” He nibbled on my earlobe, and I let the tingles take over. All he needed to do was touch me, and my mind and body would succumb to him. His roaming hands moved upward, stopping just below my breasts. He didn’t linger too long before his hands slid lower.

  “Easton,” I breathed out his name. “The pizza.”

  “It’s in the oven.” He moved his hand to rest on my belly.

  Standing there in the middle of the empty flower shop, I forced my eyes open and eyed each pretty blossom. Trying my best to concentrate on anything but his touch and the way he made my body spark to life. The pull was too strong, our connection sealing another loose end.

  “What about the daisies over there?” I barely got the words out as I unlocked his fingers and took a couple of steps. “Maybe some Stargazer Lilies. The Calla Lilies are pretty, too.” I glanced over my shoulder to see Easton standing there with a soft expression on his face and a look of adoration in his eyes.

  “Any will do just fine.” He stepped closer, cupping the side of my cheek before brushing his thumb along my skin. “None of these compare to your beauty.” He lowered his lips and pressed a soft kiss to mine. I reveled in the tenderness, in the contrast of strong and masculine against kindhearted and loving he seemed to possess.

  Slowly, he pulled away, resting his forehead to mine. “You’re addicting. Every last part of you, and I want to know everything there is about you, Lilly.”

  “We’ll learn about each other together.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I do, too,” I admitted softly. “But we really should get back and check on the pizza before it burns.”

  “You’re right. Grab whatever flowers you like.”

  “Okay.” I grabbed a small bunch of deep plum calla lilies and a bunch of white ones before turning and heading toward the stairs.

  He smacked me on the butt as if to rush me. “Come on. Pizza could be burning. Up you go.”

  Picking up the pace, I attempted taking the stairs two at a time, racing him to the top. “Loser has to do the dishes,” I tossed, giggling with Easton trailing not too far behind. “You should take up running or speed walking . . . you know, for endurance.” I laughed.

  “Why would I do that when I got the best view in the house?” He winked.

  Hearing his words forced a flash of déjà vu to almost knock me over and send me tumbling down the stairs and out of the building entirely. I sucked in a deep breath, closed my eyes, and slowly released my anxiety. “Please, Ty. Don’t do this to me now,” I mumbled under my breath while Easton was b
arely out of earshot. I would not allow past memories to alter or dictate the course of our evening. Tyler was my past, one I would always hold dear and close to my heart. One I would never forget, but I had to try to give my future a fair shot. Otherwise, I would grow old alone and live a life of self-pity.

  The oven’s timer dinged as I pushed the door in, and Easton moved quickly to the kitchen where he pulled the oven door open. I wasn’t too far behind, but my attention was steered to the countertop where his phone sat.

  An alert came through with Sierra’s name, and an awkward, twisting feeling settled deep in my gut. I didn’t want to feel jealous of another woman sending Easton messages, let alone an ex, but I couldn’t help myself. What made the feeling even worse was the fact that I didn’t think I had a right to feel that way.

  “Looks about done.” He smiled, looking satisfied and blissfully unaware of the warring emotions I had inside me. He grabbed the oven mitts from the counter and handed them to me. “Wanna take this out?” Forgoing one of the two things that could ruin our night, I smiled and took the mitts from him.

  I slipped them on and Easton handed me a large metal spatula, cautioning me as he released it to my hold. “Careful, you don’t want to burn yourself.” I rolled my eyes. As if I didn’t know the oven was hot. “Carefully slide this under the crust. Once you feel like you have a good handle on it, lift, and set it there on the pizza peel.” He pointed to the wooden board with the long handle. “We’ll let it cool for a few minutes.”

  I did as he instructed, as he moved effortlessly around his kitchen. Easton pulled a pizza slicer from a drawer, plates from the cabinet, and two beers from the fridge.

  “Smells delicious.” I eyed the pizza, pulling in a deep breath through my nose, the smell of bread and marinara sauce appeasing my senses.

  “It does. It looks like it turned out perfect.” He glanced at me and smirked. “Beginner’s luck.”

  Easton gathered and transferred everything we needed from the kitchen to the living room without letting me lift another finger. He sat on the living room floor and set everything down on the coffee table, using it as our dining table, and I followed. Then he grabbed the remote and cued up a playlist of some sort, creating a romantic but relaxed atmosphere.