Two months have gone by since my sixteenth birthday, and in these past two months I have been living on a cloud. Since that beautiful morning eating scones and drinking tea in the garden with Liam, he has let me roam free inside the house. He worries, though. I know he does. I think he still thinks someone’s going to take me away from him. I keep trying to placate him. I’m not going anywhere, because my life is with him now. I still witness the deep frown on his face every time I walk around the house. It’s almost as if he thinks I will run away. Seriously, where could I go? I have no one left but him. He is my family now.

“What are you thinking?”

We’re sitting on the sofa, my legs are sprawled across his lap, and my arms are resting above my head as we watch Ronin. I’ve seen the film before, so my attention is elsewhere. My attention is always elsewhere lately. I’m sixteen, stuck in a house with nowhere to go, and my hormones are going crazy. With no other stimulation other than books, the TV, and Liam, I’m quite frankly going insane from the need for something … more. Lately, that focus has been on Liam. Ever since he rejected me on my birthday, I haven’t been able to think about anything else. Call it pride, but it’s been bruised in a big way, and since then I have been thinking of nothing but kissing Liam again. I don’t know why I feel so attracted to him. I often wonder if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s the only man I know—the only man full stop—would I still feel this insane attraction I have for him? Would it be as platonic as his feelings obviously are? I probably wouldn’t think about it that much, but lately, Liam—inadvertently—has been doing things which have made my desire for him grow. It’s only little things. The way he brushes my hair away from my face when a tendril drifts down to kiss my cheek. The way he grabs my hand, threading his fingers through it, making me feel like the most important woman in his world. The things he says—the ways in which he makes me feel beautiful, cherished, and wanted. Such little things mean so much to me.

Like now, the distraction is the fact he’s lazily trailing a finger up and down my shin. It’s not in a romantic way—more to do with the fact we’re so relaxed and I know Liam loves to fidget. He can’t keep still unless he’s doing something with his hands. I know this must be relaxing him as much as it is me, but the problem is it’s not only relaxing me. It’s sending unwanted shivers and tingles up my spine. It’s making my heart race, my belly dance, and my nipples tighten underneath my t-shirt.

“I really don’t think you want to know what it is I’m thinking,” I answer quite flatly because although I know I’m being immature about this, I still can’t help being flippant.

His leisurely trail on his fingers on my shin cease as I’m met with a pair of cool blue eyes. “I always want to know what it is you’re thinking.” He turns slightly towards me and says, “Why do I detect some animosity towards me?”

I sigh, pulling my legs away from his lap. I notice Liam watching as I take them away. “Do you not know what you’re doing?”

Now it’s his time to sigh. “I read that women are like this.” He turns his head away, scooting himself up.

“Like what?”

He looks my way, smirking. “They expect men to be psychic. I don’t know what it is you’re feeling unless you tell me. Despite what you may think, I am definitely not psychic.”

I puff out an exasperated breath. “It’s not about being psychic. It’s about gauging people’s feelings and reactions to the things that you do.”

Getting up, Liam runs his fingers through his hair. I can tell he’s getting frustrated. “What is it that I’m doing?” He turns in my direction, his eyes looking straight into mine. “Tell me so I can understand.”

I stand up to face him, so that I don’t feel like a vulnerable, timid, little mouse. I’m in no way taller than Liam, but at least this way I don’t feel so small. I notice him watching me as his Adam’s apple bobs with a nervous swallow. Why is he nervous? I can sense it in him—feel the way his chest slightly trembles with the beating of his heart.

“You touch me and yet expect me not to react to it.” I look him dead in the eye when I say, “There. Is that clear enough for you? You rejected me two months ago, but since then you’ve touched me, caressed me, held my hand, and cared for me. You do all this, and yet you expect me not to have a reaction?”

His cool eyes soften at my words. Taking another step closer, he places his hands on my shoulders. “I’m not rejecting you. I just don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want us entering into something you might regret later. You’re so young and I’m almost twice your age. I’m protecting you, but you have to understand that there is a level of self-preservation. I’m protecting my heart too. I want you. You have to know that. But, I want to make sure that this is—”

I don’t let him finish what he started. I tiptoe up, kissing his soft lips and capturing the next words that were going to come out of his mouth. All I heard were the words “I want you.” Everything else has paled into existence.

I manage to coax his mouth open, manage to slide my tongue into his mouth. At first we kiss tenderly, lovingly, but when I moan, grabbing his hair with my fists, Liam suddenly pulls away, breathless.

He notices my frown and says, “I’m not as strong as you think, Ray. I’m a man and I have needs.”

“So do I,” I answer, trying to pull his mouth to me. Again, he halts me and I can’t help the frustrated growl that leaves my lips.

“Ray, stop. You seriously don’t know what you’re doing. If you push this then I’m going to want more. Do you understand?”

His angry eyes bore into mine, but I can also see the hidden lust that’s desperate to scratch the surface. I want to let that lust out.

“I want you—to be my first.”

Closing his eyes, Liam shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying. It’s the hormones talking.”

“As long as you have me here living with you then of course I’m going to want more. You say you have needs. I have needs too.”

“But it’s not just about needs, is it, Ray? You have to feel something for a person. I’ve never had sex with someone that I have no connection with. I’m not that type of person.”

Hurt fills my stomach and threatens to fill my eyes. “Are you saying you have no feelings for me?”

“Fuck no,” he answers, pulling away in anger. He starts to pace the floor before finally stopping and looking at me. “At first when I took you it was me trying to protect you—nothing more. But over these past few months I have learnt to care deeply for you.” He dips his head sheepishly down to the floor. “I have learnt to love you.” He looks back up trying to gauge my reaction, but all I can feel is my heart rapidly beating against my chest. He loves me?

“If I knew for certain this was what you wanted—that you felt the same way too—then of course I would be your first. In fact, nothing would make me happier. I just can’t enter into something you’re not one hundred percent into.”

I take leisurely strides up to him. Nothing is said at first. Just the silent drumming of my heart can be heard. Liam watches me all the way, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that everything he’s said is the truth. It just makes me want him more.

Once I reach him, I place my hands against his chest and lean up to kiss him again on the mouth. “I want you,” I say, breathlessly. “I want you in the way you want me. I too, have had lots of time to think over these past few months. My feelings for you have grown as much as yours have for me. I’m one hundred percent certain I want this, Liam. Please.”

I can’t believe I actually begged, but I see the moment his shoulders sag as if in relief. He smiles brightly, taking me into his arms for a hug. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that.” He pulls back, grinning from ear to ear. I can’t help the smile I beam back at him. “If you’re certain then I need to be prepared. Can you wait here until I get back from the shop?”

I nod, knowing that he’s going out to buy condoms. He looks at me sceptically and then says, “If you change your mind by the time I get back, that’s okay.”

I shake my head, smiling at him. “I won’t.”

I look back on my days with Liam as if it were a distant dream—or even nightmare. I wasn’t myself. I know I wasn’t. I felt and did things the normal me would never have done. I can’t explain what it is, but I know that the night I lost my virginity to Liam Winters, was the night I lost a piece of myself. I just didn’t realise it back then. The first time hurt. There’s just no way on earth that it would have been pleasurable. Liam told me it would get better and it did. He wanted to please me. I can still look back and realise that to be true, but he was also the master manipulator. Everything he said and did had an agenda. I know that now, but I was just too wrapped up in everything Liam to care.

Brett the Barman: Are you coming in tonight? I’ll give you a drink on the house. ;)

I smile at Brett’s text message and shoot him one back. I’ll be in at around 7. I need to go somewhere first xx

I hit SEND and start to get myself ready. It seems my bleeding was a false alarm yesterday, so I feel a lot better now that it’s definitely over. I check the time. It’s already five, so I need to get my skates on.

Placing my hair up in a bun, I start applying some light makeup. A bit of smoky eyes and red lips will do the job perfectly tonight. Once I’m finished, I put on a bit of rouge for my cheeks and inspect myself in the mirror when I’m done. I’m dressed in my favourite pair of jeans—jeans which show my bum off better than any jeans I’ve ever owned. I think everyone can safely say they own a pair just like it—their favourite pair. As a top, I have a dark green long-sleeved jumper that’s opened up at the top to hang down on one shoulder. Everyone that I meet says I suit green, so green is what I’ll wear tonight. As I look at myself in the mirror, I nod. I think I’ll pass. I feel sexy and comfortable, and I believe that’s what’s most important. Screw whatever anyone else may think.

As I grab my bag, coat, and Dean Koontz’s book, Life Expectancy, I walk out into the living room to find my mother sitting down enjoying a glass of wine. She looks up, smiling when she sees my get up.

“Off anywhere nice?”

I shrug. “Just to the bar to meet Brett. Nothing special.” I notice that she’s wearing a nice red dress. “You look lovely, Mum. Going anywhere nice yourself?”

Her face flushes before she looks down a moment. “Just on a date with Eric.”

I smile. “Have fun.”

“Thanks.” I get up to leave when she says, “Erm, Ray … I mean, Sasha?”

I spin on my heels to face her, noticing that her face has flushed even more red than before. “How can I say this? I may not be home tonight.”

A huge grin pops up on my face. “Ooh, look at you. Go, Mum!” I shout, punching the air.

She waves her hand in front of me. “Oh, stop.” Her smile fades when she says, “I’ve been thinking of cancelling. I don’t like leaving you here on your own.”

Walking back towards her, I sit on the edge of the sofa. “We can’t be prisoners our whole lives, Mum. At some point we need to let go and move on. I certainly don’t want you stopping your life because that arsehole is out there somewhere.” She looks away uncertain. “Go,” I say, when she doesn’t respond. “Have fun, have sex, and knock his socks off. I’ll be fine here on my own. I’ll make sure I lock up. I promise.”

She looks up then—worry in her eyes. “Will you text me once you’re home, so I can at least breathe a little easier?”

I nod my head. “Of course.” She hesitates again, so I say, “Please, Mum. Go. I’ll be fine. I really do promise you.”

I can’t promise her anything, but I notice the slight relief of her face when I said it and that was what I was after. “I must get going. Remember, have fun. I’ll text you later.” I get up and start walking towards the door. “Love you,” I shout as I open the door.

“Love you too, sweetie. Enjoy your night.”

I put my coat on and smile. “I’m sure I will.”

I shut the door behind me and start a leisurely stroll towards the address. I take my phone and headphones out, bringing up Spotify, so I can listen to my updated playlist. As I place the buds in my ears, I hit the shuffle button and wait to see what comes up first. I smile and shake my head when I hear “I Will Wait for You” by Mumford & Sons. Someone up there has a sense of humour, because no matter how hard I try and stay away from Easton, or stop thinking about Easton, the universe has some other idea.

I take my steps slowly, glancing at the time every now and then. It’s ten to six, so I’m on schedule. I breathe a sigh of relief when the song eventually ends and a more upbeat “This is How We Do It” by Montell Jordan plays through the buds. I almost bob my head to it as I stroll, not realising my pace has quickened. It’s only when I round the corner to reach Barrington Way that I realise I’m now here.

I check the time. It’s now four minutes to six. It shouldn’t matter that I’m a little early.

Pulling the buds out of my ears, I close the Spotify app down on my phone before placing everything back into my bag. I check the house nearest to me and notice that I’m only five houses away from number thirty-two. I carry on walking and when I eventually get to the gate of house number thirty-two, I swing it open, noticing a small yard with a big bike which is covered in sheeting. I can’t see what bike it is, but it’s definitely the shape of a bike.

I close the gate behind me, walk the short distance to the door, knock, and then step back. I need to keep my distance just in case whoever answers is an axe murderer or something. I check behind me and notice I can make it if I need to run.

I tut under my breath. It’s only because of Liam that I’m now paranoid that everyone out there has some kind of warped hidden agenda. I know I should be careful, but this is crazy.

My eyes keep to the door and I wonder after a couple of seconds if I should knock again, but then the door opens, and when it does, all my senses come alive. He stands at the doorway looking as shocked as I feel. His hair a wayward mass of brown curls, his eyes narrow and intense as he stares at my own. I’ve often wondered when he looks into my eyes whether he can see it. The desire I hold deeply within me for him.

His face looks unshaven today, but it doesn’t make him look any less appealing. In fact, quite the opposite. I doubt anything can make this man look less appealing. He’s wearing jeans which ride low on his ever-so beautiful hips, and despite the cold, he has also donned a loose, white V-necked t-shirt. However, it’s not loose enough to hide the fact that underneath are abs which would make The Rock feel jealous. As I stand, still staring, I fail to realise at first that he’s smirking at me, because as he does, he manoeuvres himself closer to the doorway. Lifting up his arm to rest on the rim, my eyes travel to the area around his hips. His t-shirt’s risen up, exposing the tanned flesh of his stomach. Oh, my. Words fail me. I may be only eighteen, but I’m not completely inexperienced to appreciate the male form.

And oh, what form Mr Lockhart has. I’m dumbfounded. My lips can’t seem to manifest words. I know I need to speak, but speech is the last thing on my mind right now.

“I– I–” Shit, I need to get a grip! Why has talking all of a sudden become so difficult? I manage—in my brief form of lunacy—to lift my eyes away from his stomach and land them on his sexy, endearing face. He’s still smirking, but this time one eyebrow is raised in question. I really wish he’d stop looking at me like that. I don’t see him do it with anyone else.

A part of me celebrates that fact, but another part of me knows it has no right to feel that way.

“You’re Nike1991?” I finally manage to ask.

“And you’re FriendsFan18.”

Looking down at his feet, I notice he only has socks on. “No Nikes today I see.” I look up to him, smirking. I feel my composure coming back. It’s in small doses, but at least I’m now coherent when I speak.

“I don’t make it a habit of wearing shoes inside my house.”

Averting my eyes, I realise I’m still making no sense whatsoever. Of course he wouldn’t wear his Nikes inside his house. It’s only then I realise that I am actually at Mr Lockhart’s house. I’ve often wondered what his house would look like. I doubt very much that he’ll let me in, and I wouldn’t blame him.

“Would you like to come in? I must admit, I’m starting a get cold.”

Just as he said that my eyes wander to his erect nipples through his t-shirt. Of course they would. Why wouldn’t they wander there?! Jeez, I need a cold shower. It’s minus freezing my arse off, but I can’t help the feeling that I need to pull on my collar as I’m getting overheated just by staring at him.

Easton smirks, but steps aside to let me pass and when he does, the most fabulous smell hits my nostrils. “Wow, what is that?” I ask, almost pushing my way past him into his house.

I hear him chuckle as I walk through and it’s only when I hear the door shut and Easton in front of me asking for my coat that I realise I’m all alone with him.

In his house.

As my mind takes all this in, my eyes wander around the lightly lit hallway of Easton’s new home. For a man, he’s made it look awfully homey. Two mirrors and a painting of lily of the valley adorn the sunshine walls of the hallway. A coat hanger sits beside the door with a red umbrella at the foot of it. As I take off my coat, I notice an open door to what looks to be the living room, but it’s from there where the beautiful smell seems to be coming from.

“I’m cooking chicken parmigiana, and I have enough for two.”

As I hand him my coat, he quirks an eyebrow as he places it on the hanger. I’m only just getting over the shock that it’s Easton—never mind the fact he’s just asked me to stay for dinner.

There is no doubt in my mind that I should say no. Setting my better judgment aside, however, I must admit that the way in which he asked me wasn’t that of a man trying to get into the pants of a would-be lover. So, if he can keep it cool, then so can I. Besides, the food smells too good to miss.

“I would love try some.”

“Good.” He fixes me with a big grin before gesturing with his hand for me to walk through. “After you.”

One foot manages to move in front of the other as I pass through the door leading into the most massive kitchen come dining come living area. No one would have realised that beyond the cosy hallway would be this Tardis of a room.

“Wow,” I say, taking in the modern decor. White and black seem to be the theme of the kitchen with a beautiful sparking granite worktop. I can see something’s boiling on the hob and underneath that I can only guess is the parmigiana cooking in the oven. It makes my mouth water.

“I almost forgot. Your book,” Easton says, quickly springing into action and fetching a book from the coffee table. He gives it to me, I say my thanks, and I place it in my bag.

My eyes wander from the kitchen to the living area. Mainly white walls are the theme in here, but I can see that Easton has been making his mark on the place. One wall features a beautiful fireplace dressed in a warm terracotta colour. Figurines reminiscent of the ancient Egyptians line the top of the fireplace, but the thing which really pops out is the breathtaking sketch which is hanging above the mantle. It’s a large sketch of what is clearly Edinburgh Castle.

“You decided to go bigger then?” I ask, pointing to the intricate sketch. It’s obvious to me that Easton’s not a fan of painting—just sketching. The fact that it’s a sketch doesn’t make it any less beautiful, though. I’d even go so far as to say that it couldn’t look any better had it been painted. The way it is now has its own unique and striking beauty. One can see every darkened line etched into the hillside, every straight line which leads to the top where the castle is situated, and every hollow window of the castle. It makes me wish that I could be there in person to see inside of it. Easton most definitely has talent.

Easton looks at the sketch, and for the first time, I see a hint of embarrassment briefly cross his face. “I just thought it would be nice to have something up there to remind me of home.”

“It’s fantastic.”

“You think?”

I chuckle slightly at Easton’s vulnerability. He has always struck me as a confident man, but beneath his strong shield is someone who is just as vulnerable as the rest of us. Clearly, he is frightened that no one will like his work. He needn’t be. Each of the two sketches I’ve seen so far have been stunning to look at.

“You have a talent. You should explore it more often.”

Placing his hands into his jeans pockets, he shrugs. “I guess I have a lot of ladies keeping me busy lately, so I don’t get to sketch as often as I would like. I was crazy busy when I first started, but I’m hoping things are beginning to settle.”

It’s then I remember that he’s not where he said he lived. “You moved.”

He bites his lip a little and for a fraction of a second I wonder what his teeth would feel like grazing over my nipple. A shudder ripples through me at the thought. My concentration levels are shit next to this man.

“I wanted to be a bit closer to the school, so I wouldn’t have to get up so early in the morning.”

I chuckle slightly, realising why he was biting his lip. “You’re not a morning person, I take it?”

Moving towards the kitchen to tend to dinner, he laughs at my comment. “No. I’ve never been a morning person.” He picks a knife up and starts poking at some potatoes. “When I was in school, I was the only person my mum found difficult to rouse in the morning.”

A brief thought wanders through my mind about whether something different may rouse him in the morning. My tongue perhaps?

Clearing my head of all erotic thoughts, I concentrate on the conversation. “I bet you used to drive your mum nuts.” We both chuckle at the comment.

“Yeah, just a little.” He then points to the fridge. “I have beer, but do you fancy some wine? You can have beer if you want, but something tells me you aren’t a beer kind of girl.”

I quirk my eyebrow. “Really? What kind of girl do I strike you as?”

He sucks in a breath as he turns his head away in thought. When he’s figured out what to say, he fixes me with those whiskey brown eyes of his. “Someone a bit more refined. You seem to like a lady to me.”

“And ladies don’t drink beer?” I tease.

“I’m not doing very well here, am I?”

I start laughing. “I know what you’re trying to say, but maybe I wouldn’t go saying that to other ladies. They may not appreciate your talk.”

“My talk, huh?”

I roll my eyes. “You know.”

He starts laughing before moving towards the fridge. “Anyway, as I was saying. Drink?”

I nod my head on a smile. “Yes, please. Wine would be lovely.”

He hits me with a knowing smile, but doesn’t say anything further on the matter. I watch as he takes out an expensive looking bottle of white wine from the fridge and starts pouring it into a glass. Once all done, he picks his beer up and my glass, handing it to me.

“Cheers,” he says, holding out his beer.

We clink glasses. “Cheers.”

“I’m intrigued,” he begins. “What book did you bring me in the end?”

Remembering why I’m there in the first place, I pick my bag up and start rummaging through. I find the book and hand it to him.

“Life Expectancy,” he says out loud.

“It’s the next best book to Watchers.”

He looks up from the book. “Why didn’t you bring me that?”

I bite my lip. “I guess I couldn’t part with it. Besides, now I know it’s you, and you’ve already read it.”

I watch as he turns the book over and reads the back of it. “It looks good.”

“It is good.”

Placing it down on the counter, he says, “I’ll look forward to reading it then.” He then gestures towards the living room. “Make yourself comfortable. I just need to check on the chicken. The potatoes are almost ready.”

My mouth starts to salivate at the thought. “I’m so looking forward to this.”

He smirks. “Wait until you’ve tried it first.”

He then makes his way to the kitchen and starts his prep on getting everything ready, allowing me time to pick my glass of wine up again and wander through into the living area. I walk around the cosy cream sofas that all point towards this massive TV. It must be at least fifty inches. I sip my wine as my eyes wander around the decor, taking everything in. The crisp cool drink slides down my throat making me look at the glass with appreciation. The wine tastes lovely.

In the corner of the living area is a bookshelf with copious amounts of James Patterson, David Baldacci, John Grisham, Dan Brown, and Clive Cussler. Easton certainly likes his thrillers.

“I see you’re admiring my books.” I jump, squealing and almost spill my wine everywhere. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

“Yes,” I say laughing. “Don’t ever sneak up on people like that. You scared the bejusus out of me.”

He places his hand on his heart. “I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

How can I say no to that face?

“Of course. Just don’t do it again,” I smirk, letting him know I’m teasing.

“Dinner’s up in five. You can take a seat at the table now, if you want.”

Easton quickly darts back into the kitchen and I walk towards the dining table situated behind his sofa. I take my seat and watch in silence as Easton works the kitchen like a pro. I don’t speak, because I know I may hinder him as he works. Besides, high concentration on the task is etched into the beautiful face of his. I certainly don’t want to disturb that.

Within no time, Easton has the plates filled with food and is bringing them over to the table. As soon as he places mine in front of me, my mouth begins to water in expectation, and I can feel my taste buds preparing to explode from desire alone. The cheese over the chicken is just nicely browned. Beside that are a few potatoes and broccoli.

“This smells delicious. I can’t wait to tuck in.”

He smiles as he takes a napkin and places it on his lap. “Don’t stand on ceremony then. Tuck in there.”

I waste no time, picking my knife and fork up I start to collect a bit of everything before popping it into my mouth. As I do, my eyes close. I’ve had chicken parmigiana a couple of times, but none of them has been as mouth-watering as this.

I let the explosion of different spices along with the taste of chicken, cheese, potato, and broccoli mix together in my mouth.

“So, what do you think?”

Opening my eyes, I find Easton sat opposite me eagerly awaiting my response.

I finish chewing before saying, “It’s beautiful. You really are a good cook.”

“Thanks,” he replies, popping a bit of broccoli in his mouth. “I think that’s why my brother sometimes visits.”

“Because he misses your food?” He nods. “That’s quite sweet.”

Easton huffs out a laugh. “My brother is a lot of things, but sweet isn’t one of them.”

Thinking on this, I ask, “What was it like growing up with such a big family?”

All I’ve ever known is my mother and I. Big families are alien to me. I often wonder what it would have been like to have a younger brother or sister. I know my mum was planning on having more kids with my dad, but then tragedy struck.

Easton finishes chewing before saying, “It certainly has its ups and downs I must say. We lived in a big enough house, but I had to share with my twin, and that was fraught with tension.” I start laughing and he notices. “What’s so funny?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve always had this picture in my head that twins always got on, finished each other’s sentences, that sort of thing.”

He shakes his head. “Not my brother and I, no. We may look and sound the same, but that’s as far as it goes for him and I.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“He’s a freelance fitness instructor. He goes wherever he’s needed and gets paid. He enjoys it because he’s never in one place at any particular time. He can accept or refuse the jobs he has, and he gets paid well because,” he rolls his eyes, “for some reason, he’s popular.”

I want to say that if he looks like him then no wonder, but I hold my tongue. “Is that the reason why he visits you a lot?”

He nods. “Yeah, that and he misses my food. He also says he likes the girls down here, but of course he would say that. I sometimes wonder if he’ll ever settle down.”

“Ah, he’s young,” I say, shrugging it off. “I’m assuming you’re both still in your twenties?”

“We’ll be twenty-eight in January.”

“That’s still young. Maybe once he’s in his thirties, he’ll settle down.”

He looks at me quizzically. “Is that when you plan to settle down?”

I look away in thought. “I never put much thought to that. I do want it all—the house, marriage, kids, etcetera, but I would never put a time on it. You can’t place a timescale on love. It’s either the right time or the wrong time to find someone. I think I would like to think that someday I will meet Mr Right and settle down. If that’s tomorrow, or in twenty years time, so be it.”

Easton nods his head with a smile. “That’s a good way of looking at it.”

“I know some say you should wait a few years, kiss a few frogs before you find your prince, but if I met my prince now, then why should I let the fact I’m so young get in the way? I think that’s why your brother is still free and single. He just hasn’t met the right girl yet. I think once he does, he’ll know.”

Easton chuckles. “I feel sorry for the girl that happens to.” He starts laughing, so I know he’s joking.

“I’m sure your brother would love you saying that about him.”

“Ah, he doesn’t care. He is what he is and isn’t ashamed of that. I kind of admire him for that.”

“It’s the right attitude to have. Sometimes you can get too wrapped up in what other people are thinking that you kind of lose yourself along the way.”

I think of Liam and everything I did for him to appease him. When I lived with him, I was constantly worrying about how my thoughts and actions would affect him. It wasn’t healthy, but at the time I didn’t realise this.

“You’ve gone to that dark place again.”

Snapping out of my thoughts, I set my gaze on Easton. “Is it that obvious?”

“Your whole face changes. Gone is the smile that lights up your face. You look … lost.”

I finish chewing a bit of food before saying, “Is this the part where you tell me some sort of joke so I can snap out of it?”

He frowns ever so slightly, a tiny crinkle forming on his forehead. “On the contrary. This is the part where I let you know that you can tell me anything. I won’t judge.”

I think about all the times I endured with Liam. All the times I felt safe with him when in fact I was far from it. I never like revisiting that place. I feel I can trust Easton. I’m just not sure I can say those words. To me, those words make me seem like a feeble, stupid, and naïve teenage girl.

“You’re hesitating. I really don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

I flit my eyes back to Easton. “It’s not that. You must know all about me anyway. It would have been in my file. It’s just that reliving it and saying the words out loud. It’s hard. Knowing how stupid I was back then is a difficult pill to swallow.”

Easton, placing his fork down, leans over the table a little. “How can you say that you were stupid? You were fifteen when it happened. A child.” I close my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m upsetting you and that’s the last thing I want. Forget I said anything.”

I watch as he tucks back into his food. I know my discomfort has made him uncomfortable. I’m not used to saying the words out loud to my mother—let alone Easton. The man I have a huge crush on.

“I lost my innocence to that man—and I lost it to him willingly.” I watch as Easton stops chewing and looks up to me. I swallow hard before saying, “I don’t like all the doors to be shut when inside a room. It makes me claustrophobic. I have nightmares—sometimes bad enough that I wake up during them and I feel like I’m suffocating. Everywhere I go, I’m looking over my shoulder, because I know it’s never a question of if he will find me. It’s a question of when.”

Easton, seemingly lost for words for a moment, picks his fork up and before he starts eating again, says with determination, “As long as I’m around, I will never let that happen. Do you believe me?”

I see the conviction on his face and it makes me smile. “Yes. I believe every word of it.” I know he will never be able to protect me from that monster, but I do find comfort in his words. Despite the fact that he is my headmaster, I know I have his back. He’s becoming the friend I never really had. Well, apart from Brett, of course, but he’s like my dorky older brother. Easton—on the other hand—is a completely different kettle of fish. I certainly don’t lust after Brett the way I do Easton.

“Good,” he says, then points to my food. “Eat. It’s getting cold.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply, picking my knife and fork up. It earns me a drop dead gorgeous smirk from Easton and suddenly my insides turn to mush. Eating is now the last thing on my mind.

We eat for the next few minutes in silence, and when the plates are clear, Easton gets up to put them away.

“Here, let me wash them,” I say, getting up with him.

He shakes his head. “No. Sit. I’ll get some more wine and we can talk. I’ll leave the dishes for later.”

A small flurry of excitement fills my belly at the prospect of staying here a little longer. I check my watch and see that it’s almost eight already. Where has the time gone?

It’s then I remember that my mum asked me to text her, so I quickly grab my phone and shoot her a message.

I’m with Easton having a couple of drinks. Have fun on your date xx

Straight after I get a call from Brett. Shit. I had forgotten all about going to the bar tonight. I get up and quickly walk out into the hallway and shut the door behind me. When I answer, I hear him say, “Girl, you better have a good excuse for not turning up tonight. Even you can never turn up a night of one of my Sex on the Beach cocktails.”

I start chuckling before saying, “I’m so sorry, Brett. Something came up. I bumped into Easton and we’ve just had something to eat.”

“You’re gonna bump uglies with him, aren’t you?”

“Brett, stop!” I shout, laughing. “It’s not like that between us.”

I hear him huff. “Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that.”

“I enjoy his company. That’s all. I’m really sorry I didn’t come by. I mean that.”

A deep sigh resonates down the phone. “I know. I just want you to be careful, okay? I don’t care how innocent you’re both thinking this is. If you two are caught, then it’s game over—for both of you.”

God, I hate it when he’s right. I don’t like it. Neither does my belly. The sick feeling I now have is an all too reminder of this.

“I’ll stay for one more drink just so it doesn’t look like I’m being impolite, and then I’ll go home. Okay?”

“You don’t have to explain shit to me, sugar lips. I just want you to be safe.”

That sick feeling in my stomach is replaced by a warm feeling in my heart. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Love you, girl. Send me a message later to let me know you got home safe. Okay?”

I smile. “Okay. Love you too. Bye.”

I hang up, take a deep breath and walk back in to find Easton sat on the sofa, a smile on his face and two fresh drinks on the coffee table. I walk towards him and thank him for the top up before sitting down.

“Everything okay?” he asks with a worried frown.

“Everything’s fine.” I pick up my wine and take a sip. It’s getting better and better with every mouthful. “It’s Brett. I was supposed to be going to the bar tonight.”

“Shit. Sorry. If you want to go now, I won’t be offended.”

“No, it’s okay,” I say, chuckling. “It wasn’t a planned evening or anything. Brett shot me a text to let me know he was working and I said that I would go round for a drink once I had finished dropping the book to you. Well, that was before I knew it was you and you seduced me with your cooking.” When I realise how bad that sounds my face flames.

“Seduced you with my cooking, huh? That’s a first.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything,” I answer, trying to make light of what I’ve said.

“That there is.” He picks his beer up, winking at me before taking a slug.

My knees start trembling as my mind conjures up thoughts—thoughts I should never be having.

“Listen,” Easton suddenly says, placing his beer bottle down, “I’ve been meaning to apologise to you for kissing you a few weeks ago. I’ve been kicking myself ever since. The last thing I want is for you to have the impression that I do things like that on a regular basis.”

That’s the last thing I think. “If I thought that about you, then I wouldn’t have agreed to stay for dinner, and I certainly wouldn’t have agreed to stay behind for a drink. However, I do think that once I have this drink I should be on my merry way.”

He nods, as if agreeing. “That’s only fair.” He looks away for a moment and I can’t help wondering if he’s still cursing himself for what he did.

“And another thing.” I watch as his gaze turns to me, and I swallow hard before saying, “If I didn’t want you to kiss me, then I would have stopped you, so please don’t beat yourself up about it. I was invested in that kiss just as much as you were.”

At first he doesn’t say anything. We just continue staring at each other, because suddenly the thought of looking away terrifies me.

I can’t fall for him. I can’t let myself get sucked under again. I know Easton’s different, but after what happened with Liam, I don’t know whether to trust my feelings ever again. I know that it’s no way to live. No girl of my age should ever be worrying about such matters, but it’s there, niggling inside my brain until my head starts to hurt with it.

But my heart doesn’t want to listen. Back then with Liam it was my body that reacted to him. He set the scene perfectly that I bounced off everything he said or did. I was his perfect puppet to manipulate and mould as he saw fit. I know Easton is nothing like Liam.

So why am I so afraid?

I ask that same question over and over again when it comes to Easton.

“Do you sometimes get the feeling we’re being pushed together by some unseen force?” I surprise myself by asking.

Easton laughs before taking another swig. “It does seem that way, huh?”

The room temperature seems to heat up a notch. In my effort to cool myself, I take another sip—or rather gulp—of wine, but it only acts to make me feel hotter.

“Can I use your bathroom, please?” It’s not because I need to use it. I just need an escape from this feeling to reach out and grab him.

“Upstairs, first door you come to.”

Nodding my head, I get up and take the stairs to the landing. It’s there that it gets confusing. There seems to be two doors together. I’m about to shout down which one, when I think to just look through. I go to the first door to the right and push through. Immediately I know it’s not a bathroom, because I’m met with the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. It’s dark, but the curtains are open and the lights from the street outside are enough to illuminate the expanse of the room.

Unable to help myself, I step further into the room when something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I turn my gaze away from the bed and see straight away what it is that’s hanging on the wall opposite Easton’s bed. It’s dark, but the light seems to be reflecting on it in such a way that I can’t seem to take my eyes off of it.

I walk further, my gaze unmoving from this masterpiece in front of me. Her eyes, they look lost, but also hopeful. Her hair is a mass of waves cascading gently onto her face. She’s smiling, seeming to look deeply into someone’s eyes. Her head is cocked slightly to one side as she stares.

A single tear starts to stream down my face, but I make no attempt at wiping it away. I can’t. I’m frozen. Frozen by the set of eyes now staring at me.

“Sasha, are you,” Easton steps through the door and obviously spots me, “okay?” he finishes asking, but I don’t look at him. I see from the corner of my eye that he’s walking towards me. “I can explain,” he urges. I hear the panic in his voice—hear the dismay at what I’ve found and what this could all imply. And the reason he’s so frightened and so panicked is because in this sketch—in this beautifully sorrowful, but happy sketch…

Is me.

Slowly, I turn to face him. I can’t see him fully, but I can see enough to know how shit scared he looks.

“I know you think this looks bad. I swear I’m not a stalker or anything. I can explain. I sketched this the night that we met, and it’s the only sketch I’ve felt I’ve put my heart and soul into.”

“You remembered my face.”

He stops dead for a moment, and no words are spoken until he says, “I remembered everything about you.”

It takes a second to walk the short distance to him. I know every thought in my brain should be screaming at me to stop this. It will only cause me heartbreak if I don’t. But right now, it’s not my mind making the decisions. It’s my heart.

I take his face into my hands and kiss him deeply. I know I’ve taken Easton by surprise because at first he stiffens. He was probably expecting me to be somehow grossed out—or even creeped out by the fact he has a sketch of me in his bedroom—but when I look at that sketch, I see nothing creepy about it at all. He seems to have captured everything good and bad about me. My past with Liam, but my happy present with Easton.

I know I should not be kissing my head teacher, but the knowledge that he thinks of me—even just enough to draw me—is what pushes me on further. I know what I’m doing is dangerous. I know I’m crossing a major line here, but by fuck is it worth it!

His warm lips open up to me, allowing access to dip my tongue in deep. No holds barred, I practically bare my soul to this man through our kiss. His low soft moans have me begging for more—begging to reach out, touch him, caress him … make love to him.

“We need to stop this,” he says after slightly pulling away, but immediately after he’s grabbing my head, back to my lips kissing me like the world will end unless we keep going.

“I can’t stop,” I reply, gripping his soft, luscious hair in between my fingers.

“I can’t stop either,” he admits.

“I don’t want to stop.”

“I don’t want to stop either.”

He claims my mouth again, but this time it’s more primal. “Easton,” I whisper between kisses. We’re suddenly on the move, getting closer and closer to the edge of his bed.

This is the time when I should stop. We’re about to go beyond that point of no return. My heart—on the other hand—has other ideas. It knows that this somehow feels right. Despite the lines we’re crossing and the trouble this could cause us, I feel it deep within my soul that here—right here with Easton—is where I’m supposed to be.

I feel him tugging at my top when he says, “Tell me to stop, Sasha. Tell me this is wrong.”

In one fell swoop, I curl my fingers underneath the seam of my top and hurl it over my head, exposing my heaving chest and red satin bra. “I don’t want to,” I whisper. I notice that Easton’s eyes are hooded with want as he scans my near naked frame. He looks up, closing the distance between us and capturing my mouth again.

“Shit, Sasha, I’ve been dreaming of this moment ever since I met you in the bar.”

His confession has my heart hammering even harder against my chest. “I want to feel you inside of me.” I graze my teeth against his lips, and revel in the heated hiss he releases against my mouth.

I’m on fire with want. My knickers soaked with desire. I start to unbutton his jeans as Easton pulls his t-shirt off and discards it on the floor. At first I can’t move. He’s like a work of art before me. Every portion of his skin looks smooth and silky to the touch. Needing to find out, I raise my hands and caress over his pecks. I lean forward gently kissing each one and trailing my tongue along his nipples. His hand runs through my hair, wrapping up in a tight fist. The animal in me runs my nails over his chest and again I relish in the hiss he offers me.

“Sasha, I need you.”

I lift my head up, capturing his mouth again as I start frantically pulling his jeans down. As much as we want to continue kissing, we have to part momentarily to take our jeans off. When discarded, we both take a couple of seconds to look at each other. Me with only my red bra and knickers, and Easton with only a snug pair of Calvin Klein boxer shorts. His skin, flawless, his stature like a king. If ever someone wanted to create the perfect man it would have Easton as their idea. He’s simply perfection.

As we take the brief moment to stare at each other, I unhook my bra letting it fall to the floor. My breasts are swollen and my nipples pert, eager to feel his hands on me.

Easton’s hooded eyes look down a second before he walks towards me, claiming my mouth again. Our tongues are hot and heavy, meshing together in a frenzy. My hands are all over his back, tracing the contours of his torso, as Easton squeezes my hips. In an instant, we’re lying on the bed, Easton snug between my legs. I feel his hardness digging into my groin and I can’t help the flex of my hips towards him seeking more. Damn this pesky underwear between us.

Easton groans into my mouth, but pulls away dipping his head to take my nipple into his mouth. I gasp out loud, moaning as he swirls his tongue like a pro. I’m getting wetter and wetter, my desire becoming unbearable.

“Easton, please,” I beg, needing to feel him inside of me.

He’s so quick, I don’t even have time to register the fact that he’s taken his boxer shorts off and is hooking his fingers underneath my knickers. He starts pulling and I lift my hips up to help them slide off. He’s looking at my bare pussy—the pussy I shaved this morning. I take a small moment to celebrate that fact before he positions himself between my legs.

“You’re going to be the end of me, Sasha,” he whispers, kissing my deeply again, swirling that delectable tongue with mine. I can feel his hardness digging into my groin again and it’s making my head spin. My pussy throbs with want unable to think about anything or anyone else but being here. Right here underneath this man.

Again, I move my hips up grinding myself against his erection. “I need to feel you inside me, Easton. Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, lifting himself up. Before I even take a breath he’s inside me. I’m so wet that he pushes right to the tilt, groaning and panting into my mouth. “Shit, Sasha. Condom. I forgot a condom. I can’t think clearly.”

I hadn’t even thought of that either. I was so immersed in Easton that thinking about something as simple and vital as a condom never even crossed my mind.

“It’s okay,” I answer. “I’m on the pill.”

“Even still, I should have known better. I’m sorry.”

I lift my head up and kiss him. “Don’t ever be sorry.”

The street lights illuminating the room shows me that he has his eyes closed. His breathing is deep, fanning me like a warm air. I’m filled deep by him—chest against chest and skin against skin. At the tender age of eighteen, I’ve not had much knowledge of life’s love, but I do know this. I feel it down to my marrow with Easton.

“I don’t want to think about tomorrow,” he confesses.

Cupping my hand on his cheek, I nudge him to open his eyes. When he does, I say, “Then don’t.”

That was all the encouragement he needed to start moving. Mutual moans escape our lips as the first stroke turns into two, then three, then four. After the fourth, Easton’s movements quicken, and his breath is heavy against my face. One hand guides underneath my head, his fingers fisting my hair as he manipulates my head. He kisses me deep, then pulls away gently pulling my head to the side so he can kiss and nibble my neck. His body strong, his movements graceful as he grinds into me over and over again. My stomach clenches and expands to my arms and legs. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I can feel it coursing through my whole body.

“Easton!” I cry, my body stiffening and then trembling. I can’t control this feeling—this feeling of no control. It’s like something’s taken over my body and is holding prisoner on some king of precipice. I remain rigid, desperate for this feeling to let go, and it’s only when it does that I realise—for the first time in my whole life, I’ve experienced an orgasm through sex. I’ve experimented with myself, but that felt nothing like this.

I cry out his name again, wanting him to stop, but at the same time not wanting him to stop. Tears pool my eyes. I have absolutely no idea why. This feeling … it’s so intense. So potent.

His movements quicken, and my once limp body through orgasm becomes rigid again. It builds and builds until again, I’m crashing.

What the fuck’s happening to me?

“Sasha, fuck, I’m going to come. I can’t hold it in any longer. You’re squeezing the fuck out of my dick and I can’t… Fuck!” he screams before grunting and then he stops.

At first, I just lie there, feeling completely dumbfounded. I have heard that women can have multiple orgasms, but it just never occurred to me that I could experience that myself.

I stay still with Easton’s head resting in the crook of my neck. I lift my hand up and start running my fingers through the soft strands of his hair. He is holding perfectly still, and his breathing becomes less and less laboured with each exhale.

For quite some time, neither of us speaks, and at first I think it’s because we’re giving each other some time to process what I consider to be the most amazing experience of my life. I have no idea how Easton feels, but it was—hands down—the single most surreal and incomparably pleasurable experience I have ever had.

The silence continues a bit longer than I’d anticipated, however, allowing fear and doubt to creep into my mind.

Is he regretting it now that the passion is over? Does he want me to leave, but doesn’t quite know how to tell me?

I search for answers in the dark, but I am unable to find any. I wonder if I should move or at least say something to get him to move. Such actions would certainly help me to make my escape, and if he wants me gone, then I certainly don’t want to be here any longer than necessary.

I’m about to ask him if I can use his bathroom when he shocks me by saying, “I don’t think I can let you go now.” My hand freezes in his hair, and at that point, he raises his head and looks down into my eyes. “I’ve been trying so hard to avoid getting involved with you, Sasha, but after this—after tonight—it’s now quite impossible for me to ignore what it is I feel.” He then sighs. “But it’s not just me in this equation. Every time I feel the selfish need to keep you to myself, I have to remind myself that you will get hurt in this just as much as I will.”

I know exactly how that feels because it’s the same thing I keep reminding myself of every day.

I lean my head up, kissing him. A soft kiss that conveys my message just as much as my words. “I know,” I answer. “It’s the same thought I keep wanting to run and hide from.” I know we both have the same question on our minds, but I’m the one to utter it first. “So, what do we do?”

Easton sighs, before pulling out of me and resting his body to the side of the bed. I turn, facing him, allowing a few seconds to stare into those dazzling eyes of his. I can’t see them, but the light is shining in such a way that they look like twinkling stars.

“We have two choices.” I manoeuvre myself to get more comfortable and listen for what he says next. “We can either stop this now and try and wait it out for seven months, or we can carry on like this and try to be careful. And we’d have to be very careful.”

I bite my lips and confess, “I’m not a fan of option one.”

“I’m not a fan of option one either. But, if you told me that was the only one I would respect that decision. I would wait for you, because some people are just worth the wait.”

Lifting my hand up to stroke his arm, I smile. “I feel the same. I just know that waiting will suck. It’ll feel like a prison sentence.” I shudder at the thought. I’ve already experienced a prison.

“Oh no, lassie, come back to me. You’re not going there when you’re here with me like this.” He bops my nose like I’m a child. “This right here is happy time. No prisons. No feeling trapped. You should never have to feel trapped with me, Sasha. It’s not entirely your decision, but it isn’t entirely mine either. We’re in this together. And together, we will make a choice.”

I scoot over to him, wrapping my arms around his torso and snuggling into his chest. “I don’t know what’s for the best,” I express honestly.

“Me neither, Sasha.” He squeezes me in tightly and kisses my head. “Me neither.”