Page 7 of Beckett the Bad Boy (Suitor’s Crossing: The Caldwells #4)

BETH

Something must be in the air this week.

I don’t run into a lot of single attractive guys in town.

Men in my orbit are usually in a relationship or not my type. The Reaper’s Wolves MC members don’t count since they’re technically on the edge of town, and I hang out where they live.

They don’t come to me .

Unlike Beckett.

Or Grady.

When the tall, blonde-haired firefighter skipped getting an assignment from Kennedy like his buddies or joining Beckett and Ezra on the other side of the room, my breath stuttered to a halt.

He didn’t cause me to get all jittery like Beckett, but Grady is still attractive. And guys don’t approach me as easily as they do someone like Ezra’s partner, Lauren, or Soren’s girl, Diana.

Yet twice this week, I’ve had sexy men thrown my way.

Something must be in the air…

Or maybe heart sparks are finally doing their fucking job and finding me love?

“Keep smoothing out the wrinkles. I’m going to grab more tablecloths. Be right back,” I tell Grady, hightailing it out of the banquet room for a breather.

A short-lived one.

Because Beckett follows me into the hall. His familiar cologne tickles my nose right before his warm hand tugs on mine from behind.

“Beth, wait up.”

Refusing to stop and embarrass myself again, I keep walking, quickening my pace.

Beckett’s grip on me remains steady. The rough texture of his palm is evidence of his hands-on job, and I can’t resist gently swiping a thumb over a callus.

No! Bad Beth!

“Beth, please. Stop.” Exasperation coats his tone, along with a note of… desperation?

Dream on, girl.

Beckett isn’t desperate for me. He probably wants—well, I’m not sure what he could possibly want to say, but it’s probably not along the lines of Beth, you’re the most amazing woman in the world. Please be mine for all eternity .

Picturing bad boy Beckett resorting to over-the-top declarations of love almost makes me snort in laughter.

“ Elizabeth. ”

My full name shouldn’t sound so hot coming from him. I’m a grown-ass woman, not a child who needs scolding, but a shudder of arousal drips between my thighs anyway.

“For chrissakes!” He uses his strength to halt my forward progress and swings me around until my back is against the wall. “You shouldn’t run from me,” he reprimands.

His body heat seeps through my blouse as his broad chest brushes my nipples.

“I-I wasn’t running.”

“You didn’t stop.”

I don’t have an excuse for that. It’s not like I can lie about hearing him. He was two freaking feet away. And had possession of my hand.

Gathering my wits, I straighten my spine, ignoring the fact that he still towers over me, even when I’m standing at my full height.

“Did you need something? I’m headed to the supply closet, so I can—”

“The only thing I need is you,” he rasps then urges me closer to meet his slightly parted lips.

What. The. Fuck.

I gasp in shock, a sharp inhale that burns in my chest, before I slowly relax in Beckett’s possessive embrace.

His tongue sweeps forward in a bold move. Controlling the kiss. Controlling me with confident hands as he pins my arms to my sides.

The flush of my full curves trapped between Beckett’s hard muscles and a stone wall should feel suffocating. Claustrophobic. Instead, I feel cozy. Safe. Surrounded by his spicy scent and addictive warmth.

He breaks away for a second, and my lips are left bereft. I keep my lashes firmly shut to pretend like I can stay in this fantasy forever.

Then there’s a low murmur. “Come home with me tonight.”

Wait, what? My eyes spring open. Did… Did he just…?

“Um… why?” And the award for World’s Dumbest Question goes to Beth Dayton!

But seriously, what do you expect? No one has ever propositioned me for sex before. Especially no one like Beckett freaking Caldwell. All dangerous smiles and protective instincts.

Even if a man did ask me for sex, I’m not that kind of girl.

I’m too cautious to sleep with a stranger, or a kinda stranger who I’ve only talked to a handful of times.

I don't do flings.

I don't do one-night-stands.

But I like Beckett.

He’s my secret crush.

And that's the problem.

I shouldn't spend time with him in his bed when I already have feelings. Because knowing what it feels like to be the center of Beckett’s attention is a recipe for disaster.

“Why should you come home with me?” A wolfish grin bares his white teeth.

“Because I want you to. Because I can’t get you out of my head.

” He nips at my bottom lip before licking the sting away.

“I can’t explain it, baby, but I need more.

I think we both do, and a night of hot sex sounds just about right. ”

Not exactly the romantic declaration I imagined, but it’s honest.

“Beth?” My name is a question on his tongue, and despite my cautious nature, and all the warnings going off in my head, my chin dips in agreement.

This man really does scramble everything I've ever known about myself.

“Yes, I’ll come home with you. We have maybe an hour left here before I can leave, though.”

Beckett nods in understanding and lets me go.

The wide grin lighting up his face almost makes me think that the pain that will come once we're over will be worth it.

Almost.