“I dragged you into this. Your car is wrecked. You’ve been shot at, you had to shoot at people. You should run, Easton. Far and fast.”

“Hell, no.”

She pressed her hands to his chest. “Then I guess we’re stuck with each other.”

“Which is lucky, since you love me.”

Harlow’s lungs stopped. A roar started in her head. “What did you say? Why would you think that?” Man, was that high and squeaky voice hers?

“You told me the other night. When you were drunk.”

Oh, God. She wanted the floor to swallow her whole. “Oh. Well, drunk people say…things.”

“You telling me that it isn’t true?” Emotions swirled in his deep blue eyes like smoke.

She looked to the side. Hell. He wanted to crack her open, strip her bare.

Easton gripped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.

“I hope it’s true,” he said quietly, “because I’m in love with you.”

Harlow’s world stopped. Her mouth dropped open and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She tried to talk, but no words came out.

“Oh, God,” she gasped finally.

He pulled her flush to his chest. “I love you, Harlow Carlson.”

“How is this even possible?” she whispered.

“Because we’re perfect for each other. Because in such a short time, you’ve become my everything.”

She felt a prick of tears, emotion alive in her chest.

“And seeing Hugo shoot at you, seeing you fall and not knowing—” His voice cracked.

She cupped his cheeks. “I’m okay. We’re both okay.”

“I’ve seen a lot of people get shot who weren’t okay.”

Oh, Easton. He carried such weight.

One of his hands slid into her hair. “You have to be okay.”

“I’m right here, Easton.” She took his hand and placed it flat against her chest. “Feel my heart beating.”

Fire ignited in his eyes. His hand curled around her breast. He pulled her up on her toes and kissed her. The kiss was hard, raw. There was no finesse, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. She moaned.

One of his strong arms snaked around her, then she found herself whirled and lifted.

Harlow gasped. He carried her to the dining room table and set her down on the edge. Then his mouth was on hers—hard, demanding. So good, but with an edge. A desperate, greedy edge.

He reached down and undid her pants. He dragged them down her legs, taking her panties with them. Next, he pulled away her ruined shirt. Jaw tight, he balled it up and threw it away. Her bra followed.

She sat there naked, his gaze burning into her.

“Easton.”

Intensity pumped off him. He pushed her flat on her back. His gaze locked on the white bandage on her arm. Then he bent over her and kissed it.

Oh, boy. She quivered.

His mouth traveled lower, then he tugged her nipple into his mouth.