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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

John

“Damn, I haven’t stuttered in years, and that’s all I do around you.” I let out an incredulous laugh.

Becca’s eyes fill with tears, and she’s never looked more beautiful as when she’s vulnerable.

“John, please stay. I’ll protect you from the lizards,” she jokes. Her attempt at levity works, causing a real laugh from my throat. “I don’t know how to act. We’re friends.”

“We’re more than friends, and you know it. When are you going to admit how you feel about me? Am I that bad of a man that you’re embarrassed to have romantic feelings for me?”

Squeezing my palm, she says, “You’re the best man I know other than my brother.”

“But you don’t kiss your brother, do you?” I lift a questioning brow.

“Ah. No. Well, on the cheek.”

Her face glows, and the red lipstick she was wearing has faded, leaving her lips the color of a watermelon. They look inviting and so fucking kissable. Kissing her will only end up hurting me, again.

Becca’s warm hands slide up my arms to my biceps. “I’m not embarrassed of you. I’m new to this. Does having sex mean that we’re together, together? Because most men I know are happy if it’s a vacation hookup or a friends-with-benefits kind of thing.”

“That’s what men do when they haven’t found the one person who makes them feel like they scored the winning goal in the championship finals… or the woman who can heal their scars.”

Our gazes tangle, weaving a web of possibilities and more questions. Is this how I feel about her? Does she feel similar?

She looks at me under her short, thick lashes that frame her eyes, blurring as they glitter with water.

“Bex, I know the divorce has jaded you. But I’m not him—not even remotely. Dennis and I are complete opposites, and there’s a good possibility I could make you happy.”

Tears fall from her lids, so I place my hands on her cheeks, sweeping them up with my thumbs. When I miss one, the droplet skims over her lips, getting hung between them.

“Will you let me try to make you happy?”

Her head nods up and down.

“You will?”

“Yes,” she says in a whispering breath.

That one three-letter word hangs between us for several breaths. The edge of her smile hits my palms as I erase the distance, placing a soft kiss onto her luscious lips. The kiss is slow and romantic, feeling like we’re stepping out of the shadows and into the sunlight.

For years, I’ve hidden behind sharp, cocky comments, not letting her know how much I’ve wanted her.

In college, no athletes. After college, she married Dennis.

Then she got a divorce and soon after, Mamaw died.

It seemed there was always something standing in my way.

Now, I have her, at least for vacation and hopefully forever.

Our lips work in complete synchrony, and all I can think about is I’m home. Where I was always meant to be. Life works in mysterious ways. Why did we have to be apart? Why do we have certain ideas of what our life should be when we’re young? Why did I let my father control me until a few days ago ?

I know why, but why did I do those things for him in the first place?

Becca pulls away with a wide smile and twinkling eyes. “That was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“Better than earlier?”

“Yeah.”

Sliding my hands down to the small of her back, I ask, “Can you tell me why?” I need for her to voice what she’s feeling. She needs to know that I want all of her, even the things she’s kept tucked away.

She gives me a closed-lipped smile and breathes out through her nose. Dennis did a number on her. He took a confident, happy, caring, beautiful woman and treated her like she was undesirable, and I see the trepidation on her face.

“Because it felt real. That you want me for more than sex.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling. “Sunshine, every emotion I feel for you is real. And if you don’t want to have sex for months, I can go without. If it makes you believe how real this is for me, I’ll wait.”

“Won’t that be hard?” she asks, tipping her head.

I press my groin into her torso. “Extremely hard.” She releases a sexy giggle. “But you’re worth any hoop you want me to jump through.”

She taps her finger against her lips. “This could be fun.”

“So much fun.” I move my head slightly from side to side. “It’s late. Do you want to sleep with me again?”

“Yes, I’ll get my pajamas on.”

She opens the dresser drawer, taking out something pink, and heads into the bathroom.

I hear her brushing her teeth. I love it when she spits a little “pff” noise.

I take the moment to push the twin beds together, then take a few exercise bands I use to stretch from my duffel bag and tie them together.

I wrap one end around one mattress, stretching it until I have it around both beds to hold them together.

The flat sheet goes over top, then I fold the white fluffy comforters at the end of the now-queen-sized bed.

As I admire my resourcefulness, she returns from the bathroom wearing a bubble-gum pink long tank top that hits just below her ass. Her skin is bronzed from our day on the beach, beckoning me like a lighthouse calling a ship home.

“Sunshine, that’s not pajamas; that’s a tease. How am I supposed to keep the promise I just made?”

“I don’t recall asking you to.” She looks at the bed, trailing her fingers over the bed sheet. “It would be a shame for all your hard work to go to waste.”

She sinks a knee into the bed, then the other, looking sinfully sweet on her knees. In less than a second, my pants are off, and I’m ripping off my shirt.

“And I definitely don’t want that to go unused,” she says as her tongue swipes between her lips, staring at the bulge in my underwear.

How can a girl look so innocent and sexy at the same time? Becca has both in spades.

I lie on the bed and tug her on top of me with one hand on her upper thigh, dangerously close to her pussy. “You’re in control tonight. It’s what you want. But I can’t promise that tomorrow, I won’t have you tied up, spanking you.”

She shudders, and her knees clench against my hips. I sweep my thumb over her panties, and she’s already creaming—just from my words. “Is my girl intrigued?”

Her face reddens, and she darts her eyes away from mine. “Becca, you never need to be embarrassed in front of me. Whether it’s something you want to try or not. It’s always about consent, no matter what we’re doing.”

It’s funny how words make you feel a range of emotions. Want. Need. Ashamed. Bashful. Courageous. Sexy. Happy.

“I might want to experience how that feels,” she says as she presses her center against my hardened length. Then she scoots down, taking my underwear with her, then crawls back up to me, wet and sliding on over me.

Damn, I love the sound of her getting wetter and the little breaths as my head hits her clit. Her head falls back, exposing the column of her neck. I raise myself up, remove the straps from her shoulders, and take her tits in my hands. Her nipples are drawn tight, begging for me to suck them.

I suck, nibble, and pinch, and she calls out. She grinds on me until her arousal has soaked her panties and runs onto my hips.

Once she catches her breath, I move her on top of my face. But instead of staying there, she turns around. Her ass and center are right above my lips as she takes my hard-as-a-rock dick into her mouth. Involuntarily, my entire body jerks, humming with the energy of a fighter plane.

We suck, slathered with arousal and saliva. I lift her off my face for a moment. “Jesus, Becca, your mouth is wicked. I’m trying to hold off.”

“Don’t hold back. I want to see how long it takes me to get you off?”

Christ, her words make my core tighten, and I feel my toes curling. I lick and suck her faster and press one finger against her hole. She moves erratically, coming off my dick for a minute and panting, then orgasms so hard, she shakes. That’s all it takes for me to climax too.

I release a guttural growl as I press her pussy against me, biting her folds as my orgasm shoots for the stars. It comes out so hard, my eyes pinch closed. I’m willing to bet if I could see my face, I would look like I’m in agony instead of the sheer happiness I actually feel.

Her body relaxes into mine, and I tap her ass. “Hey, turn around.” When she does, her candy-colored gown has splotches of wet spots, not to mention her neck and chest. “Let’s rinse off.”

“Together?”

“If that’s what you want. ”

She pulls her gown straps back up. Scooting off the bed, she reaches for my hand, guiding me to the bathroom. When she gets in, she turns her back to me to wash her body while the shower wets her hair.

I kiss her shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“I don’t.”

She stays with her back to me. “I’m getting out.”

What’s going on with her? One minute, she’s a vixen, sucking the life right out of me, and the next, she clams up.

I grab the antique bronzed knob, shutting off the water.

I give her a minute alone while I dry off in the shower because it’s obvious, she’s working through something.

Does she not believe me? Or is she going to pull away and want to keep our newfound relationship a secret again?

The lights are off in the bedroom, so I feel around in the drawer, pulling out a pair of boxers to sleep in. I crawl into bed beside her and pull her back to mine.

I move her hair off her face and tuck in under my chin. “Are we okay?” I mumble over her ear.

“You don’t tell Stella she’s beautiful? Because she is.”

“Can we talk about us?”

I tip her chin to look at me over her shoulder.

She’s been in here long enough for her eyes to adjust. “She’s not you.

She never has been. I’m sorry I brought her.

I just thought it was the only way I could make it through the week after the voicemail you left me.

That was selfish of me. But I promise, I never felt about her the way I feel about you. ”

“But you’ve been with her off and on for years.”

“That should tell you something. I hate to admit I was using her, but I was. I told you that. I was using her to get you out of my head. You were married, but it didn’t stop my feelings.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you away in college. My stupid rule about not dating athletes. ”

“Other than your normal ‘athletes are cavemen,’ what’s the real reason you didn’t want to date an athlete?”

Her voice falls quiet, and her words softly float in the air. “I’m exhausted. Another time, okay?”

I kiss her cheek and while she falls asleep in my arms, I run through a million possibilities of why she was hell bent on not dating jocks but still doesn’t want to talk about it.

And why do I suddenly feel like it might be better if I don’t find out?