Under His Spell by Kelly Favor Page A

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