by Lucy Snow
Eames smiled but shook his head. “Never my game.”
“Too scared I’ll beat you?”
“I mean, you wouldn’t, but sure, let’s call it that.”
“OK, no Scrabble, then, chicken. What instead?”
“I don’t know.”
More silence.
“Hey,” I said, without thinking. I looked down, letting the words come out too fast. “Tell me something.”
I thought I saw Eames frown a little bit, but he quickly recovered. “Sure, what’s up?”
“When I brought you back in here a couple days ago,” I started, realizing that now I was committed, even if I didn’t like the answers I was going to get. “You were a little…delirious.”
Eames’ face was flat and unreadable. “What did I say?”
“Something about your Dad? And how you couldn’t do…what he wanted?”
Now Eames’ face clouded over, a mask of frustration and anger as soon as I said, ‘Dad.’ “I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispered, waving me away.
“No, wait, Eames, I want to talk about this!” I said. “I opened up to you, I think it’s only fair that you give me the same courtesy.”
“I really don’t want to have this conversation, Avery. Please let’s change the subject.”
I stayed quiet for a moment, but even I knew in the back of my mind that it wouldn’t last. I was too curious, and I was long past the point of no return. I had to know.
“You also said something about having met someone else. What was that about?”
“OK, that’s it,” Eames said, with a finality that I hadn’t heard in his voice before. “I’m going back to my room.” He stood up, pulled the blanket around him even tighter and walked off.
“What happened to ‘no more secrets,’ Eames?” I stood up and called after him. “How long did that last?”
Eames didn’t even give me a response; I was talking to his back and then his feet as he started up the stairs.
And then I was all alone in the dining room. I sat back down and stayed there for a long time, looking out the window and silently berating myself for not letting things go, for not letting sleeping dogs lie. Of course Eames didn’t want to talk about himself. I barely knew the guy and he’d already given me a fake name just to avoid talking who he was; I should have gotten the hint when I’d found that out!
I just couldn’t let things go — it wasn’t in my nature. And now, just as we were starting to get along, I’d gone ahead and blew it.
Come on, Avery, not again.
Finally, I sighed and picked up the dishes and took them to the kitchen, making sure to put the rest of the soup and bread away so Marty and Clara wouldn’t have to. I made sure the fireplace had enough wood to last the evening and went upstairs, avoiding even looking at Eames’ door before I went to the bathroom and got ready for bed.
As I went back to my room I couldn’t help but look under his door and see the glow from candles coming through the gap — he was still awake in there.
I went right up to the door and even had my hand clasped together to knock on it and apologize and tell him that I’d stop prying into things he didn’t want to talk about, but something held me back and I couldn’t make myself go any further.
Silently, I turned and went back to my own room, stepping as lightly as I could to avoiding giving away any telltale creaks from these old floorboards, but I managed to make only the tiniest of sounds before closing my door softly behind me.
My room was as I’d left it, cozy and warming up from the venting. I lit a couple more candles and settled into bed to read for a bit, but even though the romance novel I’d picked up, book one of a three book series about football players for the New England Patriots, was amazing, I couldn’t keep my mind on the story, not with thoughts of the man across the hall running through my mind.
I didn’t know what to do, except blow out the candles and go to sleep, but even after I’d done so, sleep wouldn’t come. I didn’t know what time it was, but I knew that I kept tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable. I was warm enough, so that wasn’t it. There was just something…different.
And then I heard it.
The creak on the other side of the door. I breathed in deep, waiting in anticipation.
I didn’t have to wait long, even though I quickly forgot that I was holding my breath.
The knock on my door.
And then another.
And another.
I exhaled, throwing off the blankets and wincing as my bare feet hit the cold floor. I knew who it was even before I opened the door.
Eames stood on the other side, wearing dark loose pants and a thin t-shirt stretched over his muscular frame. I saw the tattoos snaking out from under the sleeves and the collar.
He looked amazing, the low light accentuating every facet and curve of his muscles. He looked like a living, breathing, statue of a man. I was enthralled.
He took a tentative step into my room and I stepped back, our eyes locked together. He took another step and I held up my hand just as he stepped forward again and my hand stopped on his chest.
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
Eames looked down and then found my eyes again. “Do you want me to go?” He asked.
“No,” I said immediately. “Just not like last time. Promise me not like last time.”
He nodded, and I felt a small gust of wind as he closed the door behind him. I realized in a passing moment that I hadn’t heard him actually promise tonight would be different from before, but the thought disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. My hand was still on his chest, and through his barely-there shirt I could feel his heart beating.
Faster now.
And then I’d thrown my arms around his neck as Eames came forward and pulled me off the floor and into him and we were kissing like it was the first time and there might not be a next time, so now was the time to enjoy it like it was the last time.
Long and deep kisses punctuated by short, little pecks here and there, our tongues intermingling, our lips pulling at each other’s lips slowly but surely. Little kisses down my neck that made me gasp as plumes of fire erupted throughout my body, and all I could feel was him all around me, lifting me up and holding me, keeping me safe.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but it wasn’t long enough, and then we were on the bed. Eames climbed on after me, never letting us go more than a few seconds without our lips locking together. His hands stayed somewhere on me the entire time, teasing, touching, pulling aside my nightgown to get at my skin.
I started to lift up his shirt and pull it off him, but he shook his head at first, and I pouted, until he smiled and pulled the shirt off himself, tossing it over my face. I giggled and breathed in deep, taking in his vanilla and sandalwood scent before pulling it off my face and throwing it on the floor.
His shirt was nice and I could breath in that sexy scent for hours, if not days, but right now I had the real, live, man in bed with me so there was no time to waste on articles of clothing.
I eyed his pants next, just as thin and tight against his skin, gasping at the outline of his hardness against the old fabric, but as soon as Eames followed my gaze back onto this body, he smiled and shook his head at me. That look, that smile, each drove me wild in ways I couldn’t quite comprehend. There was experience and knowledge behind those eyes, an edge to that jaw, that told me without any words that this was a man to be reckoned with.
The man who looked at me like he was about to conquer me; a man I submitted to willingly.
My dress was the next thing to go, and Eames roughly pulled it from me. I moaned as the cold air from the room hit my suddenly-bare skin, and I flashed back to the gusts of wind and snow that had buffeted us on the way to the inn. As if sensing my thoughts, Eames finished pulling the dress off me and pulled me into his arms, setting my skin on fire when the heat of his body enveloped mine.
I felt the steam of his breath on my neck
, pushing the goosebumps down and searing me with his heat. And then I was falling, falling as if weightless, back onto the bed, Eames’ body pushing me down even further into the pile of blankets still warm from when I’d laid in them minutes before.
Eames covered me in kisses from head to toe, discovering points of pleasure on my body that I didn’t know existed like an explorer charting a new continent. I watched him through barely open eyes as bolts of pleasure coursed through me, forcing me to clench my eyes closed each time.
And then Eames stopped, his mouth just above my clit, and our eyes locked before he slid his tongue out and tasted me for the first time. I almost came right there, it was so hot, but Eames didn’t give me the opportunity to relax - no, he kept going, showing me just how much skill he had in his fingers and mouth, pulling me toward the edge of an orgasm I couldn’t even begin to feel the shape of.
Eames stopped again, and I must have given him a look of pure question, because he smiled and moved back up my body, trailing my skin with kisses all the way till our lips met at the top and he held himself above me, our tongues dancing together. I found the sudden strength to lift up my hands and trace lines across Eames’ hard body with my fingers, running over his tattoos and following them up and down as they snaked across this beautiful man.
Eames’ breath hitched in his throat as we kissed, and then he broke off and moved his head down above my breasts, taking each one of them in turn into his mouth at the nipple, teasing and twisting them with his teeth and tongue in a deliciously naughty way that just bordered on the right side of pain, making me squeal. I almost called out to him, begging Eames to stop tormenting me and fuck me already, but I didn’t dare open my mouth - it was too hot to do all of this without words.
Instead, I spread my legs, bending until Eames was in between them, and I heard him grunt as he got my drift, because the next thing I knew, I felt his hard cock pressing into my entrance, and I breathed in hard as Eames slowly pushed himself into me. I moaned long and low as he filled me up slowly, inch by inch until I had all of him inside me. Only then did I open my eyes again see Eames’ steady face as he began to slowly pull himself out of me until we could develop a rhythm.
And what a rhythm it was. The only thing I could hear was the sound of the gusts of wind against the glass of the window in my room.
I adjusted to his length and girth, and the light sparks of pain quickly gave way to the most exquisite of pleasures. Eames balanced on one arm as he moved in and out of me, teasing me by holding back on each thrust until he could clearly see the need and desire to be filled up again quickly on my eyes. He’d wait an extra moment before giving me what I needed, and I loved that extra moment of hesitation and teasing even more than it drove me nuts.
With his free hand, Eames roamed over my body, finding just the right places to touch me, at the end of his thrust when his cock was deepest inside me, to make me gasp a little bit more each time. Waves of light and emotion flowed across me freely, and I gave in to those waves and let Eames drag me wherever he wanted.
It didn’t take long before I was out of breath and panting, and I could see the resolve on Eames’ face as he pushed into me. I came with reckless abandon, losing all control of my hands and moaning long and low as I saw stars in my eyes and didn’t know where I ended and the pleasure began.
Eames was just a few seconds after me, a low bellow emerging from his mouth as I felt him convulse inside of me. He shuddered and lay down on top of me, resting his chest against my breasts as we rode the rails of our passion as far as they could take us.
Neither of us had spoken, and neither of us felt the need to.
We’d shared a perfect moment, and as I settled into the crook of Eames’ arm to sleep, I couldn’t have asked for anything more. This was all there was.
CHAPTER 16 - EAMES
The sound, the fury, the rush of the storm.
All of it, all at once.
And then…silence.
No, not quite silence. Something better than that. The sound of all’s well, the sound of peace.
The sound of someone sleeping next to you, of blankets rustling as they found the next most comfortable spot.
The sound of snow at the window, but not in here where it was safe.
And then the light to go with the sound. I opened my eyes and focused on the unfamiliar ceiling. It looked like the ceiling in my room, but there were different edges here, different knots in the wood. Different colors.
Similar, but different.
I breathed in deep and turned my head in one motion toward the center of the bed. All I saw was a mass of blankets heaped in a mound on the other side of the bed.
I couldn’t help but smile at how different we were. Here I slept like a corpse comfortable in a coffin and Avery had built herself a cave out of most of the blankets in the entire state.
I felt myself getting hard at the thought of her next to me, as the memories of what we’d done the night before came flooding back, sending bolts of pleasure all throughout my body. I reached down and stroked myself, getting even harder, and everything else in my mind faded down to a single point as I contemplated the hot morning sex Avery and I could be having right this second.
And then the single point asserted itself, and expanded back into a whole hell of a lot more than that.
I turned back toward the ceiling. I knew I wanted to go again. Feeling my hard cock down there told me that much.
But at the same time…I knew we shouldn’t.
All of this, everything that had happened between us, it was all a dream. It was a nice dream, to be sure, but even it had been real, even if it had really happened, it was better for both of us in the long run if we acted like it was a dream.
If we got up from this bed and walked away from each other when the storm cleared and the path back to the real world was open.
Because the storm would eventually tire itself out and end, and then the real world would come calling for each of us in turn. I’d have to go back to Meridian and hash things out with my father.
Avery would have to go back to her family and figure out how to get them on the same page about what she wanted to do with her life.
I had realized at some point in the last couple days that running away from my problems wasn’t the answer. I couldn’t be the kind of man I wanted to be and shirk my family responsibilities at the same time - I was a Beckett, and the two things went hand in hand together — neither could be pulled apart from the rest.
That’s not how this worked. Not for me.
But then there was the girl lying next to me, sleeping through this blissfully. I turned back to watch her mound, figuring out from its general shape where her head was. I imagined how gorgeous she must look while asleep under all those blankets. Unaware of anything going on around her.
I wished I could have just a small piece of that kind of freedom, that kind of clarity.
I knew, though that that kind of freedom and clarity was somewhere for me. It just wasn’t…here. I knew it was back in Meridian - I couldn’t run away from it any longer.
I needed to figure out how to become a Beckett, how to live with the mantle of my family, before I could figure out what it meant to be Eames Beckett.
And I needed to square that with my need to find out who I was. I’d searched all around the world and hadn’t found the answer to that fundamental question yet. It tore at me, haunted me, but I still didn’t feel much closer to the answer than I had when I’d started this journey.
Maybe…the answer lay back in Meridian? Maybe wandering around the world searching for myself had been just a way to avoid the truth…that maybe I really was my father’s son, and that the family business and family responsibilities were what I needed?