“Bébé, don’t look so sad. It happened a long time ago. It’s done. I just wanted to tell you.” He laughed then, and it was surprisingly carefree, lighter than I’d ever heard him before. “I hadn’t told that story to anyone, not even Camilo, and that little fucker knows all my secrets.”

“Thanks for trusting me with it.”

The possessive way he pulled me to him made it so hard to tamp down the urge to tell him everything I was feeling, instead I smiled and nodded and kissed him again. I told him how much it meant to me that he shared that with me.

As we wound down and he fell asleep with his strong chest plastered to my back, my skin seared by the heat from his, I thought about the one thing I didn’t say.

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Patrice

“Why does the fucking world insist on cock-blocking my life?”

I bit back a smile as I made my way back up Easton’s torso, which I’d been licking and biting on my way down to his dick. “It could be important,” I said, trying not to laugh at the annoyed expression on his face.

“But it’s not even six and I’m not on call, and you were doing so well.” He grabbed his cock and stroked it as he looked at me. “I mean your tongue was really building up expectations. So...”

I didn’t even answer and leaned down to kiss him again. I covered him with my body, arms on either side of his head, my hips circling in that way that drove him nuts as I licked into his mouth.

“You want me to swallow your cock, is that it, counselor?” He ran his foot over my calf and thigh, as he kissed me.

He pulled back and those green eyes were twinkling with mischief. “Well, I wouldn’t turn that down, but you’ve been so accommodating this morning already.”

Saturday I’d woken up expecting to feel stupid or regretful about telling Easton about the stuff with my father, or for him to treat me differently. I should’ve known he wouldn’t. He’d woken up in my arms and gone straight to kissing and touching and telling me how much he loved having me in his bed every morning.

Two days later everything still felt solid.

Just as I was about to tell him so, his work phone went off and I knew whatever it was, it was important. I sat up to let him get the phone from the table, he groaned as he looked at the screen, and his face paled as soon as he said hello. I wondered if it had something to do with the trial. I knew the jury would not start deliberating again until this morning, so it couldn’t be the verdict.

“When?” he asked, his voice icy. “Fuck.”