Under His Spell (3 page)

Her knees struck the floor and two twin
bolts of sharp agony ripped up her legs and then her palms were smashing into
the ground, and even her chin made contact, causing her to see stars
momentarily.

As she lay on the floor, stunned, there was
a strange feeling of peace.

Well,
it’s over.
 
I’m a fool.
 
I already screwed up and it’s no use
wondering what Easton’s thinking right now.
 
He’s probably dabbing his lips with a
napkin, getting up and walking out the door so he won’t be associated with me.

And perhaps that was for the best.
 
Clearly, Kennedy thought, she wasn’t cut
out for this sort of thing.
 
She
didn’t have a sexy bone in her body—there was no point in continuing the
charade.

In a way, she relaxed there in a pile on
the floor, because the jig was finally up.

“Are you all right?” the host said,
leaning down with a concerned look on his face.

Kennedy tried to sit up, her cheeks
burning with shame.
 
“I—I
think so.”

And then Easton was pushing the host
aside, grabbing Kennedy’s hand and kneeling down beside her.
 
“Don’t move,” he said, staring at
her.
 
“Are you hurt?”

She just stared at him, her mouth wide
open, not knowing how to react.
 
She
was shocked to see that he looked on the verge of panic, and as he gripped her
hand tightly, her heart was beating fast again.

“You hit your head hard,” he said.
 
“Look at me, Kennedy.”

She did look at him, and his eyes were
like white fire, burning through her, the realization that he cared this much
was sending her into a new kind of tailspin.
 

“I hit my chin,” she said.
 
“I’m okay.
 
Really.”

He put his fingers under her chin and his
eyes narrowed.
 
“That’s going to
bruise,” he muttered.
 
Then he
glanced down at her knees.
 
“You’re
bleeding.”

She followed his gaze and saw that,
indeed, her knees had both been mashed by contact with the hard floor, and
there were tiny rivulets of blood running down her legs as a result.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” she said, closing
her eyes with shame and embarrassment at the scene she’d created.

When she opened her eyes, Easton was
standing up.
 
“Your floor is
incredibly slippery in this area,” he told the host.
 
“Did someone spill something over here
to make it this way?”

“Not to my knowledge, Sir,” the host
stammered.

“Well, I’d like to speak to your
manager.
 
This is inexcusable.
 
I also need a First Aid Kit and a
private room where I can attend to her wounds.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the host said,
his voice betraying nerves.

“Don’t see what you can do, just do what
I told you,” Easton said sharply.
 
As the host scuttled off, Easton kneeled down again next to Kennedy.

“You don’t have to do this.
 
And anyway, I’m sure it was my fault
that I fell,” she told him.

Easton’s eyes were soft and he smiled as
he slowly touched her cheek.
 
“When
you first fell and I heard the sound, it suddenly flashed through my mind that
you might have gotten really badly hurt.
 
And in that instant, I truly had the awful sensation of losing
you—of what that would feel like.”

“But I’m fine,” she said, laughing a
little, but loving what he was telling her just the same.

“It doesn’t matter,” Easton said.
 
“It was just the briefest little flash
of a thought, of what it would feel like to be without you.
 
And I…”

Just as he was about to finish his
sentence Easton was interrupted by the manager.
 
The host was standing beside the manager
and breathing heavily, as though he’d been sprinting around the restaurant.

The manager was a short, stocky man with
a bushy mustache and eyes that shifted rapidly, taking in the situation.
 
“I understand there’s been an accident?”
he said.

“Yes,” Easton replied.
 
“My lady friend took a fall because your
floor was very slippery.
 
She hit
her chin, and her knees are bloodied as you can see.”

The manager nodded.
 
“I apologize.
 
We do our best to make sure that nothing
like this happens, but sometimes accidents do occur.
 
Would you like me to call the police or
an ambulance?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Easton told
him.
 
He’d calmed considerably since
a couple of minutes prior, and he was more his old self.
 
“I would like a private space where I
can attend to her with a First Aid Kit.
 
And then we’d just as soon come back and resume our dinner together, if
possible.”

“Absolutely, we can arrange all of that,”
the manager told him.
 
“We’re happy
to do anything and everything we can to help the situation.
 
There’s a small room for private events
that’s currently empty.
 
Would you
like to go there and we can send over a First Aid Kit as well?”

“That would be wonderful,” Easton told
him.
 
“I appreciate that.”

The manager smiled graciously but his
face was tight.
 

Kennedy wondered if he had any idea who
Easton was.
  
They didn’t
appear to know one another, but the way the host and manager were deferring to
Easton made her wonder if perhaps his reputation as an important, powerful man,
had preceded him.

Seconds later, Easton had hoisted Kennedy
to her feet and then escorted her to a small private room with sliding
doors.
 
The empty room had a large
banquet table and chairs, and Easton made her sit down and put her feet up on
another chair so that her legs would be elevated.

After the manager brought the First Aid Kit
inside, he left the room and closed the sliding doors on his way out.

Easton took off his suit coat and threw
it across the table, then started rolling up his sleeves.

Kennedy couldn’t help but laugh.
 
“You’re not planning to operate, are
you?”

Easton cocked an eyebrow at her.
 
“I haven’t decided yet.”
 
He crossed to where the kit sat on the
floor beside the double doors, and then opened it, rummaging through it for a
moment.

“I’m really all right,” Kennedy said,
opening her mouth and flexing her jaw.
 
Everything felt mostly fine, although her tongue burned a little and she
thought she might have bitten it accidentally when she fell.
 

“Let me be the judge of that,” Easton
told her, coming towards her with his hands full of bandages and ointment.
 
He opened one package and used some
gauze to dab at the scrapes on her knees.
 
Then he wiped the blood off her lower legs, where it had dripped.

“Sorry, that’s gross,” she apologized.

He looked into her eyes.
 
“Nothing about you is gross,” he said,
“not to me anyway.”

She wasn’t used to seeing this tenderness
from Easton, and it unnerved her, made her tongue-tied.
 
Not only was he making her tongue-tied,
but she felt the distinct sensation in her belly and lower that told her he was
also turning her on.

Meanwhile, Easton continued to tend to
her wounds, cleaning them, disinfecting the cuts, and then applying two small
Band-Aids to each knee.
 
When he’d
finished with her knees, he stood up straight and moved close to her face.

“Thanks, I’m fine now,” she said.

“Let me see your head.”

“I didn’t hit my head.”

“You did.”

“My chin, remember?” she said, pointing
to her chin.

He glanced at her face appraisingly.
 
“You’re lucky it wasn’t worse,” he said.
 

“I know, I’m sorry I made such a
ruckus.
 
I feel like a fool.”

“Never say that about yourself, Kennedy,”
he told her.
 
His eyes were
unwavering.
 
“I know that might
sound strange coming from me—“

“Yeah, it does,” she agreed.

His mouth tightened.
 
“Be that as it may, I’m telling you
something important.
 
Don’t talk
about yourself negatively.
 
You
deserve better.”

She nodded, feeling odd, as though tears
were near the surface suddenly.
 
She
had to look away from him then, had to escape those appraising eyes that seemed
to know so much more than they should when it came to her.

“What now?” she said, finally.

Easton helped her to her feet, and she
was standing so close to him that she could literally feel the heat radiating
from his body.
 
“What comes next is
largely up to you,” Easton said softly.
 
He turned and looked at her, his mouth just inches from hers.
 
“What do you want to happen now,
Kennedy?”

I
want you to kiss me.
 
I want you to
fuck me, finally.
 
I want you to
take me, right now, right here, or do it in the car.
 
I don’t care, as long as I have you
inside me.

But she was too afraid to say the words
aloud.
 
Her lips parted and her
voice never came out.

Easton was smiling like he’d just heard a
joke that he wasn’t allowed to repeat.
 
His eyes bore into hers, not giving her any room to breathe.

She looked at the ground, trying to
escape again from his relentless pursuit, but this time Easton wouldn’t allow
it.
 
He put his fingers gently under
her chin, and even though it was sore, his touch was like a balm.
 
Rather than aggravating her aching chin,
his fingers made her skin tingle as he urged her to tilt her head upwards, so
that she must look at him again.

“You never answered my simple question,”
Easton told her.

“I—I’m afraid.”

“What are you so scared of?” he
asked.
 
“Afraid of giving up
control, surrendering to me?”

“I don’t know.”
 
Her heart was beating so fast, being
this close to him.
 
She wanted him
more than ever, wanted him in a way that made her soul ache, it made her insides
shake and shudder with need.
 

He leaned in closer, and at first she
thought he would kiss her, but then his lips just grazed her cheek, and slipped
to her ear, where he whispered.
 
“I
would never hurt you, and I’d never let anything happen to you,” he said
softly.

His breath made her shiver, made her
nipples harden, caused her skin to break out in gooseflesh.
 
“I do trust you,” she replied.

His hands touched her arms gently,
grazing down her forearms to her hands.
 
“Then come and have a drink with me,” he chuckled.
 
“Will you do that?
 
Or am I so frightening that even drinks
are out of the question?”

“No, I’d love to have a drink if…” she
almost said,
if you don’t mind sharing a
table with a klutz
.
 
But then
she remembered what he’d told her about speaking negatively of herself, and
stopped in mid sentence.

“If what?” he asked.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will,” Easton said, shaking
his head as if she was the strangest woman he’d ever met.

Grabbing his suit coat from the table, he
slid into it as effortlessly and gracefully as if it was a second skin.
 
And he looked gorgeous in it, of
course—it was tailored to perfection.

He took her hand firmly and led her out
of the room sliding one of the doors open and striding confidently out into the
main dining area.

Kennedy felt like all eyes were on them,
but she knew it wasn’t really true.
 
By this time, many of the diners that had seen her fall were gone or had
forgotten, and were now drinking new drinks and eating new plates of food.

But none of that really mattered.
 
Easton was holding her hand, leading her
to their table, and the fact that he was willing to be seen in public with
her—despite his promise to Red—flattered her to no end.

Of course, it scared her a little too.
 
But then again, what wasn’t she scared
of these days?