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I frowned. “That's not my number.”
He threw his hands in the air. “Exactly, you gave me thewrongnumber.”
“My number ends in a nine not a six.”
He narrowed his gaze at me, and I watched as the blood drained from the man's face. Beck sat there staring at me for a full minute before he whispered, “I fucked up the numbers.”
I couldn't wait to hear what bullshit explanation he'd come up with next.
He dragged his hands through his short hair. “I fucked up the numbers.”
It was almost a whisper, like he was talking to himself.
My stomach plummeted.
I scooted closer to him, pulling Beck’s hands out of his locks. We didn't need him to do any permanent damage to those gorgeous strands.
“What do you mean you fucked up the numbers?” I held my breath awaiting his answer.
His eyes pierced mine. “I'm dyslexic.”
I blinked once. Twice. The puzzle pieces falling together in some cosmic joke that wasn't the least bit funny. I inhaled through my nose and released my breath slowly through my mouth.
“Youwantedto call me? Youwantedto see me again?”
He flinched, as if affronted. “Of course I fucking did. Do you remember that night?” He tapped his forehead. “Because I have seared it into my brain. I can play it like a fucking DVD. And you know what? Most nights I do just that. I grip myself and replay that night together. Sliding the straps off that dress and struck dumb as it pooled round your feet. I loved every second I spent shamelessly exploring that bare skin of yours. Those little moans you made when I licked you while driving my fingers deep. Fuuuck. It's a sound I'll never forget.”
My throat went dry as I silently urged him to keep going.
Beck shook his head as if to clear the haze of his memory. His attention returned fully on me, and he closed the space between us. He leaned in and the scent of pine tickled my senses, my nipples pebbling in excitement.
This man…
“I called you. I wanted to have so many more nights where we stayed up talking for hours and then get intimately acquainted with every inch of your body. And not just once. Over and over again. I figured you gave me the wrong number on purpose. That's why I didn't go after you. That's why I didn't put every resource at my disposal towards tracking down the woman who could have changed everything.”
I felt dizzy. My body swayed forward, and Beck was there in an instant, catching my arms in his hands.
I gulped. I'd been fighting with this man every time I saw him because I thought he rejected me after that night. I was just another notch in his belt, a conquest to be won.
His grip remained firm, holding me steady.
This close I could see the sincerity written on the planes of his face. This wasn't his usually jovial volley of cute remarks that raised my hackles. Or the playful looks that hid deeper feelings.
This was real.
“You mean that? You called me? You wanted me to answer?” I held my breath.
The man looked damn near tormented. “Of course I fucking did. I called that number a dozen times and I should have fucking considered that I messed up the numbers. That my dyslexia came to play at the worst possible time.”
Then Beck's eyes traced the outline of my face, his gaze softening as he tucked a stray hair behind my ear.
I leaned into the touch.
“Beck—” I sighed.
A door flung open, and footsteps bounded down the hall.
We flew apart until we were on opposite sides of the couch. Just in time for Alice to find us, Willow in tow, and Faith bringing up the rear, eyebrows raised in blatant accusation. “Well, well, what do we have here?”