If It's Only Love (Lexi Ryan) novel Chapter 15

We hardly talk for the next hour as we take in the view, but it’s not an awkward silence. Not for me, at least. For me, it’s just an awed reverence for the moment as I try to memorize every detail—the sun sinking into the Parisian horizon, the feel of his fingers threaded through mine, and the thrill of everything below looking so small. It’s crowded up here, but I barely notice anyone else, and when he pulls my back to his front, we might as well be the only two people in the world.

“Shay? Shayleigh, are you okay?”

I turn and blink at Steve.

His eyes go wide when he sees Easton. “Are you . . . You aren’t really . . . I mean, you can’t be . . .”

Easton smiles easily as he faces Steve. He extends a hand while keeping one arm around my waist. “Easton Connor. Nice to meet you.”

Steve blinks at me and then at Easton. “Holy shit. I knew you two texted sometimes, but I didn’t know . . .” His eyes dart back and forth between us like he’s trying to solve some complicated mathematical equation. And I get it. Of all the girls Easton could choose to have in his arms in Paris, I don’t fit. I’m just a chubby, awkward nerd girl who followed him around when I was a kid. I’m not anything like what he deserves—not like the popstar who’s been hanging on his arm at L.A. bars. I’m just . . . me. Which is why I know tonight is special. It’s why I know this moment is a singular gift and not the beginning of something new.

Easton pulls me closer to his side. “And your name?”

“I’m . . . uh, I’m Steve.”

At first, I wonder if Easton will remember. Steve’s been a huge part of my life during the last two and a half years, but Easton’s never even met him. I see the moment the name clicks into place for him, see the recognition in his eyes as they go wide. “Ah. I see.”

“I’m such a big fan. Huge. I can’t even believe I’m meeting you right now.”

Part of me finds a moderate amount of satisfaction in his stammering, but the rest of me just wants him to leave so I can return to my happy bubble—my dreamy evening with Easton.

“It’s always good to meet a fan,” Easton says with a nod. “Have a nice night.” He leads me away, dropping his arm from around my waist only to take my hand again.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“For what?”

I shrug. “For making it look like we’re together. For making him wonder if maybe he gave up a good thing.”

He stops and turns to me, cupping my face in both of his hands. “If and maybe?” He shakes his head. “Shay, he’s an absolute fool for letting you go. And a bigger fool if he had to see me with you to figure that out.”

I swallow hard. “Thank you.”

He narrows his eyes. “But you don’t believe it, do you? You don’t realize that you deserve better than some prick who couldn’t even be bothered to wait until you were ready and tried to pressure you into having sex with him.”

I blink at him. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do. I had to use all my restraint not to fly home and give him a piece of my mind.” He turns in the direction Steve left, glaring. “I’m afraid to ask what happened.”

I laugh. “I was with him for two and a half years. What do you think happened?”

He releases a low growl and rolls his shoulders back, but I squeeze his wrist. I don’t want him to pummel poor Steve.

“It didn’t happen that week. He waited until I was ready.” I tug on Easton’s arm until he meets my eyes again. “Please get that look off your face.”

“What look?”

“That big-brother protective look. Stop. We’re in Paris. Watching you get arrested for homicide would really put a damper on an otherwise lovely evening.”

His lips twitch. “You think that’s my big-brother look?”

“Isn’t it? You’re as bad as Carter, trying to scare off any guy who looks at me.” I blow out a breath. “It’s no wonder you two get along so well. You both wanted me to be a virgin forever.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “I . . . never said I wanted that.”

My cheeks heat, and I really want to change the subject. I turn away, shivering a little. The sun has set, and the air’s cooled.

Then Easton’s behind me, holding me, his warmth seeping into my back. “Trust me, Shay. I’ve never thought of you as a little sister.” He blows out a breath, and I feel it against my ear. “I want to kiss you again.”

My stomach twists. He’s only here because he hated the idea of Steve ruining my trip. He’s swooping in to play the hero, but that doesn’t make this real. I crane my neck to see his face. “Don’t ruin this with your pity kisses, East.”

He spins me in his arms and tilts my face up with one big hand. His eyes are darker than before, his lips parted. I want to feel those lips again. “Is that what you think this is? Even when I said it wasn’t? Is that what you thought it was about when I touched you on New Year’s Eve?”

My face burns. We’ve never talked about that night.

“I have wanted to kiss you for so long.” His gaze dips to my mouth then down to my cleavage, and I feel hot all over. “Carter gave me hell about it because he could see it on my face, but you were too young and I had to resist. Until I had you in my arms and I couldn’t say no.”

My heart is beating so fast that I feel like I ran the stairs up here. “I’m not too young now.”

His nostrils flare. “I know.”

Kiss me. Do it now. I might beg. Instead, I ask, “What’s next?”

Some of the darkness lifts from his eyes. “Next, you let me take you to dinner.”

Easton

Shay’s lipstick marks her wineglass, making it impossible to focus on my food. I can’t think of anything but those lips and the way she moaned into my mouth when I kissed her.

She’s just heartbroken and on the rebound.

“But what about you?” I ask. “How’s college? What’s your life like?”

Where do I start? With Scarlett’s constant drinking? With her battle with addiction that I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to win? With the way everything about her life is dramatic and she prefers it that way? “We split up, but you probably already know that.”

She shakes her head. “Like, sick sick. He . . .” She draws in a ragged breath, as if she needs to fortify herself, and I know what’s coming. “Cancer.”