Fearless (8 page)

“Spread your legs,” he commands. I comply with a soft moan. He places a knee between my thighs, forcing my legs further apart.

Slowly he eases into me, stretching me deliciously, and this time he seems even bigger, filling me more deeply. I groan as he moves his hips, circling inside me before thrusting deep into my core, making me gasp. I wiggle my hips against him. He pulls out slightly before driving back into me, making me cry out with pleasure as his cock hits my sweet spot. He continues the sweet torment, pulling out slightly and then gripping my hips as he plunges into me, increasing the rhythm until my body is wound tight, aching with the need for release.

“I want you sore,” he murmurs in my ear. “I want you to think about me every time you move and remember how I feel inside you. I want you to think about how you feel with me buried inside you, and how you begged me to give you what you need.”

“Yes. Please, Beckett,” I cry raggedly. I am shameless. I will do anything if he will just make me come already!

“Patience, little one,” he says, pulling out of me abruptly, and I almost cry with frustration. But then his hands are on my aching breasts and between my legs, torturing my sensitive silken nub, robbing me of all ability to think or speak. With one powerful stroke, he thrusts back into me and my body shudders from the exhilarating fullness of him. He repeats the cycle—circle, plunge, thrust; circle plunge thrust—until I'm certain I'm going to die if I don't find release soon.

“Beckett,” I cry. I'm desperate, helpless in my urgency.

“Shhh,” he soothes. “I've got you. Come for me baby.”

And somehow, just like that, my body convulses around him and I scream his name. He thrusts sharply into me once more and then finds his own release, emptying himself into me as he pulls me back against his chest, our mutual orgasm shuddering through us both, binding us together.

I lean heavily against Beckett as the aftershocks of my orgasm slow and subside. I'm not sure my legs will support me. I've never had an orgasm like that before. With the way he can command my body and its responses, I'm starting to think he's right— there's something fundamental between us that would have driven us together regardless of time and space.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently.

“More than okay,” I say. “Except I don't think I can move.”

He laughs, deep and throaty. God, I love the sound of his laugh.

Pulling me close with an arm wrapped around my waist, Beckett turns off the water.

“But you didn't shower,” I protest.

“That's okay,” he says, shaking the water off his dark hair. “I want the smell of you on me as long as possible.”

“Oh.” Okay, that was hot.

He opens the shower door and reaches out to grab a soft, white towel from a heated towel bar and then closes the door and begins gently toweling me off. Despite my recent orgasm, my stomach trembles as he rubs the towel in circles over it.

He grabs another towel, wrapping it around his waist so it hangs just above his hips, and hauls me into his arms, exiting the shower.

“You can put me down,” I protest. “I'm not going to collapse.”

“I'll put you down when I want to,” he says matter-of-factly, carrying me into the bedroom where he deposits me gently on the bed. Turning, he rummages through a dresser drawer, pulling out a white t-shirt advertising a 5K benefitting cancer research.

“Here. Put this on.”

I guess it would be a little awkward to put the dress I had been wearing last night back on when he's only wearing a towel so I accept the shirt, dropping the towel that he'd wrapped around me as I slip it over my head. I inhale deeply. It smells like fresh laundry and him. Although it hits me mid-thigh, I somehow feel naked and exposed underneath. I go into the bathroom and retrieve my thong. When I come out, he's bare chested but wearing shorts, and my mouth waters at the sight of his hard, well-defined chest.

He moves in front of me and kisses me, his hands reaching under the hem of the shirt to cup my bare ass.

“Mmmmm,” he says appreciatively. “You in my t-shirt, a thong, and nothing else. I may have to keep you like this.”

I shudder as a little wave of desire ripples through me. The thought of hanging out with him in just a t-shirt—his t-shirt—and nothing on underneath is a huge turn on.

“Do you drink coffee?” he asks.

“It's a major food group,” I assure him, my mouth watering at the thought of a hot cup of coffee.

I follow him into the kitchen, watching his catlike moves as he pours two steaming mugs of coffee.

“How do you take it?” he asks.

“One sugar and a splash of milk,” I say, watching as he follows my directions perfectly before handing me the cup.

I take a sip, close my eyes, and sigh deeply. When I open them, he is studying me, his eyes hooded.

“I'm not sure I like seeing that look on your face when I didn't put it there,” he says darkly.

The man is insatiable! “No more orgasms,” I say firmly, and this time he smiles. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

“Breakfast?” he asks.

I realize I'm famished. I nod. “Yes, please.”

“Sit there,” he instructs, nodding to a bar stool, and I slide onto the seat, watching as he fetches eggs from the refrigerator, expertly cracking them into a bowl and whisking them with a fork before pouring them into a skillet, adding some diced ham and cheese as he scrambles them.

“I'm impressed,” I say as he spoons the egg mixture onto several corn tortillas, topping them with hot sauce before rolling them up and placing them onto two plates.

“Come here,” he says, carrying the plates into the living room.

I follow him and he sinks into the large brown leather sofa, pulling me down next to him. He slides an arm around me, tucking me close to his side, and hands me a plate. I take a bite of the breakfast taco. It is delicious. Feeling his eyes on me, I close my eyes and moan dramatically. I open one eye and look up at him, gauging his response. He is glowering at me. I smile wickedly.

In seconds I'm on my back on the leather couch with Beckett on top of me, one hand under my shirt cupping my bare breast. He kisses me hard.

“Keep goading me, Emmaline,” he says in a low voice, pinching my nipple. “I know you've had enough today, but I'm going to look forward to punishing you for that.”

My breath catches at the delicious threat.

“Okay, okay,” I say, laughing nervously as I place my hands on his bare chest to push him off of me.

He lifts himself off and pulls me up and back to his side, his breathing ragged. I look at him.

“I think I'd better go sit over there,” I say, nodding toward a chair opposite the sofa.

“You'll sit here with me,” he says firmly. “And learn to behave.”

I smile innocently and pick up my breakfast taco. He settles me back against his side and says, “Tell me about your family.”

While we eat, I tell him about growing up in San Diego, the youngest of three with two over-protective big brothers.

“Did you tease them as relentlessly as you do me?” he asks.

“Probably more,” I admit. “Although in a different way.”

“God help them,” he mutters. “Does your family still live there?”

I nod. “My parents and one of my brothers still live in San Diego. My other brother and his wife live in Colorado.”

“So how did you end up in Texas?” he asks.

“When we graduated from high school, my best friend Lainey and I made a pact to leave California. I love it there, but I needed space from my family so I could be independent. We picked the University of Texas,” I say. “Like I told you earlier, Tim got a job in Houston after graduation and I've been here ever since.”

“Do you miss your family?”

“A little,” I say with a shrug. “Mostly because of Nikki, but we go out there for a month every summer and they come here several times a year. But Lainey married a Houston boy and moved here too, so I do have family here, just not the family I was born with. What about you?”

“Well, you've already met my dad,” Beckett says. “And as I told you I have two younger brothers. Griffin is a Navy SEAL. My youngest brother Drake is in the music industry.”

“Wow, lots of testosterone in your family,” I observe. “What was it like growing up in River Oaks?”

He regales me with stories of the trouble he and his brothers got into at the private school they attended, making me laugh, until I realize it's almost eleven thirty.

“I have to go,” I say reluctantly. I go into the bathroom and get dressed, inhaling the scent of his shirt one last time before leaving it on his bed. I slip on my sandals and walk back into the kitchen. He's finishing up the dishes and when I walk in he comes over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist. Cupping the back of my head with his hand, he kisses me until I'm breathless.

“When can I see you again?” he asks huskily.

“I don't know,” I say hugging him back tightly. I want to see him every second of the day, but I have my daughter to think about. “I have Nikki most of the time.”

“When does she go to her dad's?”

“Wednesday nights and every other weekend, usually.”

“Then I'll see you Wednesday,” he says unquestionably.

“I can't,” I say miserably. “Lainey and I have a standing third Wednesday of the month girls night out. It's sacred. We've never missed a single one in fifteen years.”

“Okay, what about the weekend?”

“Nikki's at her dad's the whole weekend. Do you want to come over for dinner Friday night at my place?”

“Yes. I want you for the entire weekend,” he says bluntly. “I'll come to your place Friday night. I have a benefit I have to attend Saturday night. Will you go with me?”

“Um, sure. I guess,” I say. “What kind of benefit? How dressy is it?”

“We'll go shopping together on Saturday,” he promises.

I look at him dubiously. In my experience men don't like to shop for anything, much less clothes for women.

“Trust me,” he says softly, placing a kiss in the hollow behind my ear.

“Okay,” I sigh.

The drive back to my house is quiet but comfortable. It seems like a lifetime has passed since he picked me up for dinner, my nerves humming and the air charged with sexual tension. The air is still charged with sexuality, but it's different now.

When we arrive at my house, he comes around and opens the car door for me and walks me to the door, my hand held firmly in his. At the door we kiss again, and when he finally pulls away I wonder how I'm going to make it for five days without the intoxicating feel of his hands on my skin.

I let myself into the house, amazed at how it looks just the same as when I left yesterday evening, because I feel like a completely different person. I change into yoga pants and an old t-shirt and keep myself busy, starting a load of laundry and tidying up until Nikki comes bounding in, full of chatter. I'm grateful for the distraction.

Nikki and I have been a team from the beginning and we're still close. Everyone keeps warning me about the teenage years and how she's going to hate me, but so far our relationship has stayed strong, and there is no one I would rather spend time with. After Nikki exhausts reliving the play-by-play details of her winning spike at the volleyball tournament yesterday and told me all about who said what at the sleepover, she asks, “How was your dinner with the doctor and the old guy?'

“Great,” I say with a smile. “I took the job.”

I tell Nikki about Dr. Black's house as she listens, wide-eyed.

“Did you have dinner there?” she asks.

“No, I actually went to dinner with Beckett, his son.”

“Oh really?” Nikki asks, arching her brow and wiggling it comically. “And?”

“And,” I relent with a laugh, “I like him.”

With a squeal, Nikki bounds over and hugs me. “That's awesome! Tell me!! Tell me!!” she demands. “What does he look like?”

“Well….he's tall, probably about six feet tall, dark, and handsome. Kind of dangerous looking, but in a GQish way. He's got thick, dark hair and these gorgeous chocolate eyes with really long lashes.” I don't add that those eyes of his can strip me bare and command me with their piercing gaze.

“Wow, you've got it bad,” she teases. “So when do I get to meet him?”

“We'll see,” I say. “I've only gone out with him twice.” Oh my word! I've only gone out with him twice, and I did all that with him? “Enough about him,” I say aloud. “What are we going to do for dinner?”

We decide on Chinese take-out and spend the evening sprawled on the couch eating lo Mein from paper cartons and watching a movie together. At ten o'clock, I say goodnight to Nikki and get ready for bed. I have loved catching up with her, but I'm looking forward to curling up in bed and reliving the last twenty-four hours, minute by delicious minute. I've just turned out the light when my phone lights up across the room. Climbing out of bed, I check my phone. It's a text from Beckett.

My bed smells like you. It's making me wish you were still in it, naked.

I smile and type back:
Sorry! I have to be naked in my own bed tonight.

He's a fast texter. He immediately texts me back.
Tell me you're not serious.

I laugh.
Relax. I'm not serious. I'm wearing a t-shirt.

And?

Are we having phone sex?

Never answer a question with a question, Emma. No, we are not having phone sex. I'm selfish. I want all of your orgasms to be with me. You don't come unless I say so.

I roll my eyes. I can practically hear that authoritative tone of his even through a text.

Okay. I'll try to wait until Friday….
I type.

Emma! You are being a brat.