Page 21

Yep, I’d fallen. Somehow, when I landed, the crash didn’t kill me as I’d suspected it would if I ever allowed my heart to commit such a foolish act. Some said loving another took bravery. I thought loving another took having a few loose screws.

I wasn’t sure which was correct.

But I was sure that I’d fallen. I knew this, because as I lowered myself into the blanket Beckett held open for me on the couch beside him, his arm settling around my shoulders as I wrapped the blanket tightly around my body, I realized I didn’t want to be anywhere but here.

Snuggled into this big man’s side; before the crackling fire like I was his to cherish and protect against the winter storm outside.

It was the only place I could imagine being in this moment.

I’d never felt so safe.

“You’re not fighting my nearness.” He said sounding surprised. I realized, as I took in our position, that he had every right. I’d been more than a little cold, but I was confused.

Even now, I was terrified and lost and I wanted my girlfriends. Raina would excitedly offer advice that would have a harlot blushing, while Maddy would be honest and responsible in offering her opinion. And I desperately felt the need for both their words.

Desperately.

But they weren’t here.

“You’re right.” I concurred, saying nothing more.

“Why?”

“Because you were right when you said you’ve given me no reason not to trust you. I do trust you, Beckett. I just—I’ve never been the kind of girl who finds affection between friends easy.”

“Is that what we are?” I felt his face dip toward mine, but I kept my eyes trained to the dancing flames. Still, that didn’t stop my heart from beating so hard it practically tore through my chest.

“What?” The word sounded like a gasp.

“Friends? Is that all we are, Amara?”

“I—I don’t,” Oh my god, my head was beginning to spin.

“If it makes any difference to you, it’s not all I want to be.”

Holy crap! The dynamics of Amara and Beckett just went from a playful bantering love/hate friendship to—what? I mean, what were the dynamics now?

“Beckett . . .”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to respond now. I just want you to know how I feel. I just want to be honest with you.”

Could he be any more perfect? He had to have a flaw. He had to have a freaking flaw!

“Okay,” Really, Mar, that’s all you’ve got?

“Okay.” He agreed simply, settling back into the couch with my body tucked snugly into his side.

For long minutes, I sat as tense as a freaking iron pole before finally, I eased into the comfort of Beckett’s hard and, it had to be said, flawless body.

And that’s how we sat relaxing on the couch together like we’d always been a couple—or a couple of friends who always cuddled. It was so easy to be like this with him, anyone looking in would have figured we’d never been anything less.

When nothing more than coals simmered in the hearth, Beckett announced, “You know, in our room there’s a real nice bathtub.

” I tensed, waiting for him to proposition something that would obliterate all the trust I had in him.

“Why don’t you take one of your bubble baths and I’ll put out the fire.

I brought Game of Thrones, so when you’re done relaxing we can watch a few episodes before bed.

” The smile was loud in his next words. “I promise I’ll build a small fire in our room before bed too. ”

Yeah—I was right, the man really was flawless.

“Okay,” everything he proposed sounded like a dream. I stood. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

He nodded, watching me toss the throw blanket over the back of the couch. Then I headed for the stairs.

I was in the bedroom, inspecting the perfection of the rustically chic décor when there was a knock on the door. My heart did a little jive as I called, “Come in.”

Beckett appeared with my suitcase. “Thought you might need this.”

Blushing, I explained, “Totally didn’t even think about what I’d wear after my bath.”

He winked, “I’d say nothing, but as you’ve told me before, you’re not that kind of girl.”

I didn’t know why, but his teasing didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. Instead, I felt a rush of heat shooting straight for that place between my legs. My blush turned something fierce and I tucked my hair behind my ear, “Ha. Ha.”

He laughed. I freaking loved the sound of his laugh. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He did leave me to it, and as I undressed in the huge warm bathroom, stepping into the beautiful free-standing bathtub, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of the last boy I’d given my trust to—and how in the end he’d burned me so badly I thought I’d never heal.

It was the first time I thought of Jayden and didn’t feel the rush of fear pulsing with every beat of my heart.

It was the first time I thought of Jayden, and believed that maybe there was someone good and pure enough to chase away the pain so that maybe I could believe in laughter again.

It was the first time since the demolition of all that I was, with a boy who didn’t deserve everything I gave, that I felt hope.

“Yes!” I clapped, jumping up from the couch in victory. “Why don’t I feel like the brutality of his death was enough?”

“Because it wasn’t. I get the public humiliation of it, but the guy was horrible. I don’t feel vindicated.” Beckett agreed, grinning up at me.

“I know,” Seriously, Joffrey from Game of Thrones was probably one of the all-time worst characters I’d ever encountered. “I hated him.”

“He doesn’t get any better watching it a second time around. The shit he does is still shocking even knowing what’s coming.”

“I’ll bet.” In a way, he kind of reminded me of Jayden. Only, Jayden wasn’t quite so messed up, thank heaven for that.

The thought of Jayden had my mood spiraling into crash and burn territory. Beckett saw it, because before I knew it, I felt his hands on my hips and I was flat on my back on the couch. Then he was tickling me. Tickling me!

Shouting, “Stop it!” I fought, struggling and failing to escape. “What are you—argh, doing?”

“Tickling you. Saw your face fall, peanut.”

“I hate,” I gasped. “Being,” I kicked out at him, pushing my foot into his gut to push his body away from mine. “Tickled!”

He laughed and I rolled from the couch, making a run for our room.

I heard him shut off the TV and then I heard footsteps pounding on the floor, coming nearer to me.

Slipping through the door, I tried to slam it closed aiming to lock him out, but his hand stopped the door from latching.

On another shriek, I bolted into the bedroom, cutting my losses on locking the door.

Beckett charged into the space, his warm whiskey eyes dancing as they landed on me. “I like chasing you.”

“I don’t like being chased.”

“Liar.”

“Oh no, buddy,” I shook my head. “Not this time.”

He shook his head in disbelief, prowling closer. Again, I shrieked my command, “Stop hunting me!”

“I like hunting you,” he winked. “Gets the blood flowing.”

“Go run around a tree. That will get your blood flowing too.”

“This is so much more fun.”

The only thing between us now was the bed. When Beckett made a move to come around the foot, I dove onto the mattress, coming to my knees to crawl in a desperate attempt to clear myself from his tickling fingers when they clamped around my ankle, pulling me back down the mattress.

I howled, “Nooo!”

“Yes,” the bed dipped beneath his weight as he threw his body down beside me, flipping me onto my back, and tossing a leg over my belly to hold me in place. “Definitely yes,” his fingers found my sides and that’s when it happened—I laughed.

Beckett’s fingers quit moving and our bodies stilled as the echo of the sound lingered between us. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed like this, without any inhibition at all. It felt—well, it felt wonderful.

When the shock of the sound wore off both of us, Beckett tipped his head down, and whispered, “Do it again,”

“I—can’t.” You couldn’t command a person to laugh. It didn’t work like that.

Beckett had other ideas, though. I knew this when I felt his fingers begin moving at my sides again. And again, the sound of my laughter spilled from between my lips.

It was beautiful and revealing and raw. I felt naked and vulnerable and safe beneath this brilliant man who unveiled the beauty I’d been hiding for years deep beneath my surface.

I felt clean . . .

And then I felt the tears. I was so overloaded with happiness I couldn’t take it, and it spilled from my eyes in salty liquid that streamed over my temples and into my hair. My heart danced and my soul sang.

And then Beckett dipped his head, and he kissed me.

His lips on mine were soft and warm and hesitant.

There was a moment when instinct demanded I pull away, but only a moment.

My heart took over from there as I pressed my mouth against his, opening to him, tasting, and being tasted.

His hands on my sides stopped tickling, and instead held me close.

His kiss deepened as I opened my mouth to him, a low groan rumbling from the deep of his throat as he pushed his body closer to mine, pressing my back deeper into the bed.

It was on pure instinct that I lifted one leg, shifting into his body in a wordless plea for more of him.

And that’s when he tore his mouth from mine, lifting his head to look into my eyes. His eyes were hooded and his lips were red. We were both breathing hard and fast. And the longer he looked down at me, the more I began to feel uncertain. Afraid. Helpless.

“Don’t pull away,” he whispered pleadingly. “We’ll take this slow, beautiful. We’ll take us slow.”

“Us?”

“Oh yeah, baby. Us.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re mine and I’m yours. It means we’re lighting this spark that’s been between us since day one, on fire, yeah?”

Goodness, I didn’t know about that. “Beckett,”

“Say yeah, baby.” He dropped his forehead gently to mine, inhaling hope and—me. “Please, say yeah.”

The word was small and hesitant, but I couldn’t deny the fact that it sounded. “Yeah.”

I lay awake in the bed beside Beckett staring into the flames dancing over the logs Beckett had set before climbing into bed beside me.

I knew he wasn’t asleep. I was also pretty sure he knew I wasn’t asleep.

Neither of us had spoken since we pulled the sheet up over our bodies.

I was in my totally unsexy jammies. I’d packed them knowing I’d be sharing a room with Beckett, not wanting to get any blood flowing.

Now, I was regretting that decision. The purple fleece was killer hot.

Lounging around the house in these jammies and wearing them beneath a thick winter duvet were two entirely different things.

I huffed, rolling onto my back, pushing the duvet down another inch or two.

“Hot?”

“Yeah,” See? I knew he wasn’t asleep.

“Did you pack any other pajamas?”

“No,” I huffed again, amending. “None that aren’t fleece.”

He chuckled. “For some reason that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Beckett,” I groaned. “I’ll get through one night then I’ll ask Maddy or Raina to bring me something else tomorrow.”

Then I blushed, because after my stunt of packing only lingerie for Raina’s camping trip with Kaiden, I knew her retribution would be aptly horrific.

“You wanna borrow a t-shirt?”

“From you?”

“Yeah,” he sat up, smirking. “Who else?”

“Um . . .” I wanted to borrow a t-shirt. I wanted to borrow a t-shirt so, so badly.

He raised a brow, prompting. “Not gonna jump you if you’re wearing something other than fleece.”

I scowled. “I didn’t say you would.”

Promptly two seconds after I’d settled into my familiar scowling expression, Beckett reached back to pull the material of his t-shirt over his head. The scowling turned to what I suspected was the face of pure mortification.

He was giving me the shirt off his back. Holy crap.

“Here,” he handed the shirt to me and I ignored the fist-gripping sensation that overtook my lower belly as my fingers closed around the material. It was still warm from his body, and that was a turn on like I never would have expected.

“Thanks.”

“You want me to turn around?” he winked, “promise I won’t peak.”

Rolling my eyes, I slid out from beneath the covers, calling over my shoulder as I clutched his t-shirt to my chest. “I’ll change in the bathroom, thanks.”

His laughter followed me into the room and I sighed at the feel of the warm tile under my feet as I quickly slid from my fleece jammies and into Beckett’s t-shirt. The smell of him was entirely man, and I noted that too was a turn on.

Padding barefoot toward the large mirror, I stared at myself in Beckett’s t-shirt.

It was big and navy blue. The hem tickled my thighs; covering my booty shorts, thank heaven.

It wasn’t the most flattering thing I’d ever worn, but for some reason I couldn’t quite explain, I felt sexy and sensual. I felt like a woman.

I was a woman.

I was a woman in a man’s shirt, sharing a bed with said man. I was a woman who was influenced in ways I couldn’t control by that very man’s scent, voice, and body. I was a woman who was finally coming into herself.

The thought had my lips stretching into a small, slow smile.

The sight staring back at me stilled something inside of me.

My heart turned quiet and my fingertips lifted to connect hesitantly with my lips.

I didn’t know how he did it, but he’d battled every demon I had, and freed the beauty I thought I’d buried forever.

If I lost him tomorrow and lived to be one hundred and one, I’d forever be thankful for the beauty he gave me tonight.

Because for the first time since I was a girl, I felt no holds barred happiness.

“You all right in there, Amara?”

Startled, I dropped my hand and turned to the closed door. Hurrying to gather my jammies from the floor, I folded them and set them on the vanity before moving, a little hesitantly and a whole lot nervously, to the door.