You’re Mine by Penny Brooks

Chapter 3

Harper

I'm staring out the small bathroom window like a complete peeper, watching Easton

Always with my eyes on Easton.

He's drinking a lot tonight, and he doesn’t seem happy. There's pain etched in his features, shading his eyes. There's no smile on that perfect mouth, and he’s greedy with the tequila bottle, not willing to share it. I watch as he tips it back, his throat moving as he swallows, and I'm fascinated.

Who knew drinking could be so sexy?

Ryan talks to Sadie. I'm sure he's asking her to do something for him He's so awful to her. I tell her over and over again she’s wasting her time, but she won't listen to me. Guess that'll be a lesson she has to learn for herself.

It's not Sadie who runs the errand for my brother though. It's Easton who rises from his chair, his tall, powerful frame moving with ease as he makes his way toward our crappy little house. Wincing, I consider making a run for it so I can hide out in my bedroom, but it's like I can't move.

My gaze is fixed on him.

He pauses right in front of the window I'm standing in front of, and I've never been more grateful for the opaque glass that makes it so no one can see through it from the outside. He won't be able to see me, thank goodness.

But I can see him.

Up close, he’s even more gorgeous. Tanned skin stretches over bulging muscles. His chest is smooth, his pecs developed and those six pack abs are utterly lickable. The thought alone makes me blush, because I can’t imagine putting my tongue anywhere on Easton's body

Wait a minute. That's crap. I can imagine putting my tongue everywhere on Easton's body, and I bet he'd enjoy every second of it. I know I would

Withholding the sigh that wants to escape, I watch as he chats with a pretty girl who's a year younger than us. She's barely dressed in that black string bikini she’s got on, and she’s thrusting her chest out toward Easton as if silently demanding he look at it. There's not even a flicker of interest on his face and I can tell she's disappointed. To the point that she leaves in a huff, and he enters the

house.

Oh crap. He's in my house.

My brother may be Easton's best friend, but he never comes over here. More like Ryan is always over at Easton's house. One of our parents is usually always here, and considering we're not one of the rich kids like everyone else, we don't like having a lot of people over. Though my friends do come over on occasion.

Never Ryan's though. It's as if he's completely ashamed of the place. I guess I can't blame him.

I contemplate leaving the bathroom so I can dart upstairs, but what if Easton catches sight of me? I'd rather wait it out here first.

No way is he coming into the bathroom. No one has tried coming in for the last five minutes. People might not even know this bathroom exists There's a knock on the door and a gasp escapes me. I keep my gaze fixed on the yard outside, gripping the edge of the windowsill before! dare to turn around. The door opens at the exact same moment as I turn, and I wait in breathless anticipation to see who it is just before the lights go out.

I blink into the darkness. What the hell? Why would they flick off the lights?

The door shuts, but I know I'm not

alone. I can sense someone is in the room with me. There's a quiet snicking sound. The turn of a lock. Something heavy is set on the bathroom counter.

Suddenly, I can smell him. Men's cologne. Warm, masculine skin.

A boy is in the bathroom.

But who?

There's screaming outside and I'm about to turn back toward the window so I can see what's going on when he speaks.

"Did the power go out?”

A chill runs down my spine. I know that voice. Holy shit.

“Are you the little spy who was watching me in the window?" he asks, his head terribly close to mine. So close, I can feel the huff of his breath against my cheek when he speaks.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I say primly.

“Mmm hmm.” He presses his body into mine and I reach for the windowsill, holding on tight. I can feel every inch of him mold against me, and I wonder if he knows who I am

Or if he just does this sort of thing to random girls in the dark.

I don't care. It feels too good to tell

him to stop. Like all of my dreams coming true. And when he reaches around me, his strong arms boxing me in, his hands settling on the windowsill beside mine, I feel as if I've died and gone to heaven.

“I wasn't spying on you,” I tell him, hating how my voice trembles.

“But you were watching me,” he says. “You have the unfair advantage, you know.”

I close my eyes when I feel his face nuzzle my neck. What in the world? "How's that?”

I don’t even know how I was able to ask that question just now, and sound so normal.

“You know who I am.” His mouth moves against my neck and I grip the windowsill even tighter. “And ! don't know who you are.”

“You know me,” I tell him, flirting.

And I never flirt.

"Hmm." He shifts closer, his hands leaving the window to settle on my hips. Whoa. “I know you're not wearing much.”

“It's a pool party,” I protest.

He runs his hands up my sides, achingly slow. “I know you've got smooth skin.”

I say nothing in response. I'm too attuned to the way he’s touching me, how he moves behind me. The heat from his chest, the chill of his still damp swim trunks. With the lights out, I can focus on him and nothing else. He's making my head spin.

“You going to tell me your name?” he whispers, his fingers back at my hips, toying with the ties on my bikini bottoms. One quick flick and he'd have them undone.

I slowly shake my head, afraid to ruin it when he finds out who I am. “Guess I'll have to figure out who you are in other ways.” His hands tighten on my hips, slowly forcing me to turn.

And face him.