Under His Spell (11 page)

She had a feeling, a terrible awful
feeling that she would be seeing him again.

***

By the time Kennedy arrived at the hotel,
she’d changed into her “sexy” outfit, handpicked just for this occasion.
 

She wore a pink blazer over a white lacy
camisole and baby blue highwaisted shorts.
 
Beneath that, she had on her special lingerie bought earlier that day.

The outfit was enticing, she hoped, but
not so brash as some fuck me heels and a short skirt that revealed everything
all at once.

Was this what Easton wanted?

Her goal was to read his mind, anticipate
his needs and deliver herself to him as he would have ordered her to do it.

And yet it was a big risk, because the
truth was, she didn’t know a damn thing about what he wanted her to wear or how
he truly expected her to behave.

Kennedy texted him that she’d arrived in
the hotel lobby.
 
Easton responded
with the room number and nothing else.

She took a deep breath, then went to the
elevator and made her way up, not knowing what would come next.
 
Her thoughts were racing as she wondered
whether or not to tell him that she’d seen his brother at the bar getting into
a fight with a strange and frightening man.

As the elevator pinged, going up and up,
she realized that there was no way in hell she intended to reveal the events of
the day to Easton just yet.
 
If she
told him now, there’d be no chance of intimacy, he would immediately want to
know every detail of everything that had led her to go to that bar.

And once she told him the truth, he would
very likely be angry at her, and rightfully so.

But
aren’t you going to tell him?
 
If
his brother’s in trouble, he’ll want to know.

That much was true.
 
And she did intend to tell Easton at
some point—just not yet.

Not
yet.

Not while there was still a chance of her
getting it right, and giving Easton what he wanted from her.

In return, she would get Easton, even if
just for the night—and she needed that very much.

After what seemed an eternity, the
elevator doors opened on the floor she was waiting for, and she stepped out
into the hallway.
 

Walking down the hall, every fiber in the
carpet seemed alive beneath her feet, and it was as though she moved in slow
motion.
 
She could feel the
stillness in the air, and smell the scent of cleaning products, fresh towels,
and see the faint glow of the lights against the wallpaper.

And then she was standing before the
door, knocking, and the knock seemed to echo and echo and echo, as if through
her very soul.

Can
I do this?

Please
let me be able to know what he wants, to know what he likes, to make him want
me as much as I want him.

The door swung open and Easton was
standing there, a slight smile twisting his lips as he looked her over.
 
“I like your outfit,” was the first
thing he said, and then he stood aside to let her enter the room.

Kennedy walked past him, swallowing
drily.

She was nervous, so nervous, as if
performing at Carnegie Hall.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said,
finally, surprised at how calm she sounded.

She turned and faced him as he let the
door click shut behind him.

Easton was wearing a dark blue suit, no
tie, the first button undone on his dress shirt that he wore beneath his
blazer.
 
He was holding a glass that
had a small amount of liquor in the bottom of it.

Kennedy walked towards him, slowly,
allowing herself the boldness to smile seductively as she closed the distance.

“What are you doing?” he asked,
curiously.

She was so close to him that her stomach
was gently pressing against his hand.
 
She didn’t answer his question, but instead she took the glass slowly
from him, holding it in one hand and raising her eyebrow at if to challenge him
to take it back.

He sighed and folded his arms.
 

Kennedy spun the glass slowly in her
palm, watching the amber liquid slosh around, and then she abruptly tilted the
cup to her lips, drinking it in one shot.

It burned going down her throat, and she
felt tears spring to the corners of her eyes.
 

“That’s good Scotch,” Easton told her,
taking the glass away and walking to the mini bar and refilling it.
 
“If you wanted some, all you had to do
was ask.”

Kennedy laughed.
 
“That was way more fun than asking.”

“If you say so.”
 
Easton took a sip when he was done,
looking at her again.
 
His eyes were
intense, focused on her.

“I do say so,” she replied.
 
“I think you should give me some more.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s such a good
idea.
 
You’ll be drunk and passed
out—not exactly my notion of a hot date.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t worry so much about
me,” she said, walking towards him again.

“Maybe you shouldn’t give me so much
reason to worry about you.”

“I give you reason?”

“Yeah, you do,” he chuckled.

“Explain.”
 
She put a hand on her hip and watched
him.

Easton leaned against the bar.
 
“You’re like a kid in a candy store,
running all over the place trying new things and not realizing that you’re
going to get a bad stomach ache.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You need someone to watch over you,” he
said, putting his glass down on the bar and moving to meet her where she stood.

“No, I don’t,” she said.
 
“You just want to believe that I need
you.”

He stood inches away from her, his eyes
searching hers.
 
She could feel his
body heat, feel his animal intensity, the way he wanted to grab her and take
her.

She wanted him to do it, too, so she
could stop pretending to have everything under control.
 

But Easton wouldn’t give her what she
wanted.
 
He smiled slowly.
 
“You do need me, Kennedy.
 
Admit it.”

She shook her head no.
 
“I can’t admit something that’s not
true.”

His smile faded.
 
“Now you’re lying.”

“I don’t need you,” she said.
 
It was a strange thing to say to him,
and quite the opposite of how she was feeling.
 
Her heart cried out as she said the
words, knowing it would hurt him, knowing it wasn’t the truth.
 
But something inside told her that he
needed to hear this, needed to be pushed in some fundamental way.

“Why are you playing this game?” Easton
whispered, still searching her eyes for clues.
 
“Is this what you think I want from
you?”

She didn’t reply at first.
 
And then, she simply said, “I’m just
being honest.
 
I mean, I like
you.
 
You’re cute and all.”
 
She turned and walked away from him,
back to the bar, taking his glass of liquor and fondling it.
 
“But I don’t need you, Easton.
 
I mean, how could I?
 
I hardly know you.”
 

Easton’s jaw was stiff and his eyes
flinty.
 
“I’m not sure I care for
the way you’re talking right now.
 
Maybe this was a mistake.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, her tone
haughty.
 
“You can dish it out but
you can’t take it?”
 
And then she
took a long gulp of the Scotch, and it was like fire in her throat.

Easton looked down at the floor, shaking
his head.
 
“I can take a lot,” he
said slowly, “but I won’t take much more of this version of you, Kennedy.”

“This is me,” she said, giggling.

“No, it’s not.
 
This is you playing a part, trying to
fuck with my head because you’re too scared to be vulnerable.”

“Wait,” Kennedy said, still smiling.
 
“Are you describing me or are you
describing yourself?”

“Remember the assignment,” he told her,
his voice a growl of impatience.
 
“This isn’t about what gets you off,” he said.
 
“This is supposed to be about you
showing what you can do for me.”

“Maybe you don’t actually know what you
want me to do for you,” she said, raising an eyebrow yet again, taunting
him.
 
“Maybe you need me to teach
you a few things.”

“If I wanted a teacher, I wouldn’t have
found the one person who hadn’t completed first grade,” he said.

That remark hurt, and she felt the
reaction register on her face, a quick flinch of pain that she tried to cover
up with another smile and sip of Scotch.
 
“You’d choose that person if you were really, really insecure, though,”
she said.
 
“Because then you
wouldn’t have to worry about getting shown up.”

“This is actually kind of sad,” Easton
said.
 
“I suppose this is what
happens when a little girl plays dress up and tries to imagine how grown ups do
it.”

Her façade was crumbling as he continued
to insult her lack of experience.
 
The truth was, she didn’t know how to do this.
 
She’d tried to please him, tried to show
him a different side of herself, gone with her intuition.
 
But she seemed only to have enraged him.

“Forget it,” she said, putting the drink
down on the bar and starting to walk toward the door, brushing past him as she
went.
 
“I tried, and I couldn’t make
you happy—as usual.”

“Get. Back. Here. Now.”
 
His voice was stern.

“Fuck you,” she said, and continued
moving.

A second later, he’d grabbed her wrist
and pulled her back into him, spinning her as if she was his dance partner.

His strength and speed was startling.
 
She ended up pressed against his body,
looking up into his furious eyes.

“What do you want from me?” she said,
starting to cry, which she absolutely hated.
 
He was always making her cry, somehow.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he told
her, his breath on her face as he grabbed her wrists.
 
“I just want you,” he said.
 
“That’s it.
 
Just you, Kennedy.”

And then he kissed her, passionately, his
firm lips pressing into hers, and his tongue pushing its way into her mouth,
opening her to receive it.

He tasted amazing—like liquor and
mint and then his own taste that was unique to Easton.
 
The very smell and taste of him made her
wet.

The way his tongue seemed to know just
how to slide in and out between her lips made her open for him, her body
melting against his.

After he’d melted her to the point where
Kennedy wanted nothing more than to lay on her back and open her legs for him,
Easton broke off from kissing her.
 
He was still holding her tightly in his protective embrace, but now he
was simply watching her.

She opened her eyes, looking back at him,
completely unguarded, no longer trying to play a role for him.
 
She felt totally vulnerable, as if she
was letting him see every thought, every emotion, not trying to cover up
anything.

“Tell me the truth,” he said softly.
 

“About what?” she breathed, afraid almost
to speak.

“About how you really feel.”

She swallowed, trying to control the rush
of emotion.
 
“I do need you.”

He stared at her for a very, very long
time.
 
“I need you too, Kennedy.”

She saw a film over his eyes and realized
that he might be feeling the exact emotions that she was feeling.

And then they were kissing again, and the
way it felt had changed once more.
 
She
felt like, in a strange way, he was already making love to her.
 
There was a connection, a bond, and he’d
admitted it.

Kennedy’s heart soared and her body
opened even more.

Easton broke off again, and took her by
the hand, leading her to the bedroom.
 
“Come,” was all he said.

When they got into the bedroom, Kennedy
stood there, waiting, a light shiver coursing through her entire body.
 
She was at once completely alive and
present, maybe for the first time in her life—but also very scared.