“I have wanted to kiss you for so long.” His gaze dips to my mouth then down to my cleavage, and I feel hot all over. “Carter gave me hell about it because he could see it on my face, but you were too young and I had to resist. Until I had you in my arms and I couldn’t say no.”

My heart is beating so fast that I feel like I ran the stairs up here. “I’m not too young now.”

His nostrils flare. “I know.”

Kiss me. Do it now. I might beg. Instead, I ask, “What’s next?”

Some of the darkness lifts from his eyes. “Next, you let me take you to dinner.”

Easton

Shay’s lipstick marks her wineglass, making it impossible to focus on my food. I can’t think of anything but those lips and the way she moaned into my mouth when I kissed her.

I forgot how it feels to be close to Shay—how she calms my anxiety and simultaneously ties me up into knots of desire.

She’s just heartbroken and on the rebound.

She’s been raving about Paris since we sat down, chattering about everything she’s seen in the last few days and what she’ll see in the upcoming weeks. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s equal parts nerves and sincere enthusiasm that has her cheeks pink and her words running into each other like a traffic jam.

“But what about you?” I ask. “How’s college? What’s your life like?”

She reaches for her wine and swirls it in her glass. She’s old enough to drink in France, but she’s only had a few sips. “I’m not like you, East. I’m just an average girl with an average life.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re so damn smart and talented. Everything you do is interesting, and I hate that he made you question it even for a minute.”

“I’m not questioning it right now,” she says, peeking up at me through her lashes. “What about you? I thought you were dating that pop star.”

I put down my fork and take a long sip of my wine. “Scarlett,” I say. There’s not enough wine in this bottle to truly prepare me to talk about Scarlett Lashenta. “I was. For a while.”

“And . . .?”

Where do I start? With Scarlett’s constant drinking? With her battle with addiction that I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to win? With the way everything about her life is dramatic and she prefers it that way? “We split up, but you probably already know that.”

“I try not to read the gossip sites,” she says, but her blush turns her cheeks a vibrant pink and gives her away. “Though sometimes it’s hard to resist.”