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Chapter 674:
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he set his coffee down and stood, crossing the space between them with slow, deliberate steps. He stopped just inside her personal boundary, close enough that she could smell the clean sweat of his run, the cedar of his soap.
“I’m not asking for forever,” he said. “I’m asking for today. And maybe tomorrow. And the day after that, if you’re willing.” His hand rose, hovering near her cheek, not quite touching. “I can wait, June. I’ve been waiting for years. A few more months won’t break me p>
His fingers finally made contact—a light brush against her jaw that sent electricity down her spine.
“But don’t ask me to stop caring,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t ask me to pretend I don’t see you. I tried that. It nearly killed me p>
June felt her breath hitch. She should step back. She should rebuild the walls, reinforce the boundaries, remember that love was a weapon that always turned inward eventually.
She leaned into his touch instead.
“One day at a time,” she said.
Easton’s smile was radiant, transforming his face from handsome to beautiful, from controlled to absolutely, terrifyingly open.
“One day at a time,” he agreed.
And then, because she was still June Erickson, still broken in ways she was only beginning to understand, she added: “But if you ever lie to me. If you ever manipulate me, or trap me, or try to own me p>
𝖳r𝖾𝗻𝗱𝘪𝘯𝗴 𝗻ovеl𝗌 о𝗻.сo𝗺
“I know.” His thumb traced her cheekbone, tender and fierce. “I’ll be the one who ends up destroyed p>
She believed him. That was the terrifying part. She actually believed him.
The garage beneath Easton’s building was climate-controlled, lit with surgical precision, and smelled of concrete and expensive leather.
June followed him down the stairs, her heels clicking against the metal treads, her mind still processing the morning’s intimacy. She had agreed to stay. She had agreed to one day at a time. And now she was following him into the underground dark as though she trusted him to lead her anywhere.
She did not trust him. She did not trust anyone.
But she was following anyway.
“Here.” Easton stopped beside a sleek black shape that seemed to absorb the overhead lights. “The Aston Martin. DB11. Do you drive p>
“Of course I drive.” The defensive edge in her voice made her wince. “I just don’t. Often. Manhattan, you know. Parking. Traffic. The subway is p>
“Efficient,” Easton finished. “But not today.” He pressed a key fob into her palm, his fingers lingering against her skin. “You’re driving yourself to work. And tonight, you’re driving yourself home. To my place. If you want p>
June stared at the key. It was heavier than she expected, weighted with a significance she did not want to acknowledge.
“Easton, I can’t just p>
“You can.” He moved to the driver’s side, opened the door, and stepped back with a gesture that was half gallant, half challenge. “The seat adjusts. The mirrors adjust. The GPS is already programmed with your office and my apartment. All you have to do is drive p>