by Scott, Kylie
“Don’t dismiss what you did here. I think there’s more than a little of the creative in your soul.”
He snorts. “Elliots don’t bother themselves with souls. Or consciences. Too inconvenient. We’re built and raised to be money-making machines.”
“You’re more than that.” I raise my chin. “And you know it.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. You wanted more. You went looking for more, remember?”
“And yet here I am, right back where I started.” He licks his lips, turning away. “Eventually, my plan is to build myself an empire by turning this into a chain of boutique hotels. Along with some other investments I’ve been nurturing.”
“That’s incredible.”
“The things you can do with money, huh? And yet you still won’t let me buy your love,” he jokes.
“Would you even want it if it was for sale?”
For a moment, he just stares at me. “Good point, dearest.”
He follows me into the bedroom where a massive bed takes pride of place, made up with white linens. There’s also some very cool charcoal-colored vintage style wallpaper and a pale blue chaise longue just perfect for reading. But back to the bed. It’s orgy size. And there’s only one.
“Wherever will I sleep?” I ask, testing the mattress with a hand for softness. Just the right amount of firm and bounce, thank you very much.
“Wherever you want.”
“And where will you sleep?”
“Wherever you want me to. With my jammies on, of course. We wouldn’t want to rush things.”
“Wouldn’t we? Remind me why not again.”
“My naughty Alice. What a delight you are.”
“The problem here is, you think I’m joking.”
“Oh, trust me. I take you very seriously indeed.” It might just be me, but Beck’s voice seems to have dropped about an octave. And it is sexy times music to my ears. He leans his back against a door jamb. Yes, there is definite heat in the man’s eyes. “Bathroom and closet are through here.”
“No need to move. I’m sure I can squeeze past you.”
“If you insist.”
And I take my time easing past him too, using tiny sidesteps into the short hallway. I also may or may not be pretending the doorway is half the size it actually is. Who cares about a pretty apartment when I have this pretty man so close? I notice Beck doesn’t move an inch, letting my breasts brush against his hard chest. Though there’s like at least four layers of cloth between us, my pussy tingles and nipples harden. And we maintain eye contact the entire time. I couldn’t look away if I tried. Getting up this close and this personal with him more than makes my day. Given a little time and a lot of privacy, the things we could do in that big bed. I’ve never had the opportunity to mess around with a man in a suit before. It’s a positive life experience.
“Feel free to go back and forth a few times,” he says in the sexy low voice. “You could even turn around if you like.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve always had the utmost respect for your gorgeous ass.”
“You say the sweetest things.”
“‘I do sometimes amuse myself with arranging such little compliments.’”
“You were so hot right up until you quoted Mr. Collins,” I say, referencing Pride and Prejudice. “I was totally going to rub my butt against you.”
“It’ll never happen again, I promise.” He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. The firm warm pressure of his mouth is divine. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
“I think Mr. Collins should have just led with that. Who knows where it might have gotten him.”
His hands clench at his sides. Like he wants to reach for me but is holding back for some reason. So I reach for him instead, smoothing my hands over his suit jacket, straightening his tie.
“I do like the business look,” I murmur.
“Is that so?”
“Mostly I just like you.”
His gaze runs over my face. Still hesitating for some damn reason. For all that he talks a good talk, there’s doubt in him since he’s been back in Denver. And while I’m used to it from me, I’m definitely not from him.
“Beck, kiss me, grab me…do what you want.”
And there’s a flash of a lusty grin before he’s on me. His hands cupping my face, fingers sliding into my hair. And his mouth…Good God, does the man know how to use his mouth. Warm lips and skilled tongue and he takes as much as he gives. The soft gentle kiss before was a lie. This is the real Beck. Full of heat and emotion. Whoever or whatever taught him to hold back, to rein himself in, needs a good kick in the pants. Because when he kisses me like this, he makes my head spin and my body ache. His teeth nip at my bottom lip before sucking away the sweet pain. Then he’s feeding me deep wet kisses that I just might die if I have to go without. Melodramatic, but true.
When he pulls back, we’re both breathing heavily. His thumb carefully swipes the side of my mouth. “I’m afraid I messed up your makeup and fancy hairdo.”
“You’re wearing a little lip gloss yourself.”
“If I haven’t said it yet today, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
“Isn’t this better than staying at Grandma’s house and getting busted by Winston like a pair of horny teenagers?”
“It sure is. Though there’s still a serious moral quandary to be discussed. What do the dating rules say to do when there’s only one bed?” I ask with my best attempt at a coy smile. It’s probably not very good. I’m more of a lusty beast when it comes to this man. What can I say? He makes me ache. I rest a hand on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat. Hard and steady. A lot has changed since LA, but the chemistry between me and him is alive and well. The growing bond between us.
“And there’s not a single other room available in the hotel or indeed the whole city,” he reports. “I already checked.”
“Gosh darn it.”
He clicks his tongue. “Such language coming from a young lady. Why I never. What do you think of the rest of the place?”
I grin before letting my arm drop and turning to check out the walk-in closet. “Motherfucker!”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding startled.
“Um, Beck?”
“Yeah?”
“It was just you living here, right? By yourself?”
“Yes.” He rests his hands on my hips, leaning his chin on my shoulder to look into the not-small room. “How about that.”
“You don’t by any chance happen to own a sizable collection of designer handbags, do you?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“How about women’s shoes?”
“Nope. None of them either.”
I sigh. “I was worried you’d say that. How much of the room exactly does your stuff take up?”
“My things are in the first set of drawers on this wall here and about half of the hanging area on the left-hand side. But as you can see, they’ve actually pushed my custom suits back to make room for more of your dresses and coats.” He helpfully points this out, fingers flexing against my hip. “I never bothered with the display cases on the back wall, which is good since they’re now full of your purses and so on. And it looks like my shoes have all been moved to the bottom rack. The rest is yours.”
“Fuck me.”
“Absolutely. Eventually. In the meantime, let’s take a closer look, shall we?” He moves me a little to the left with the pressure of his hands on my hips.
“I can’t believe they did this.”
The room is done in a soft gray and it’s basically walls full of drawers, hanging space, and a couple of big mirrors. In the center of the room is an island featuring yet more drawers with a plush sofa at one end with a makeup table and chair at the other. And from what I can see, all of it is full.
Beck starts pulling open drawers. “What have we here? Scarves, gloves…that’s a bit boring. Where’s the good stuff? Ah. Here we go. Pantie
s, bras…yeah, nice extensive collection of lingerie. Now this I approve of.”
“You’ve got to believe me—I did not okay this.” My heart is pounding, my lungs working double time. “I would never just spend your money this way.”
“Hey—”
“A few outfits, that’s all I agreed to. I figured you probably wouldn’t mind. To help me fit in with your family and everything. Rachel said it was important.” When in doubt, never be afraid to throw the nice rich white lady under the bus. “We can probably take it all back, right?”
He holds up a pair of vintage-styled, see-through, black boy-leg briefs. “Why would we do that?”
“Because it’s way too much.”
“Dearest.” He stops, sets down the underwear, and sighs. Next, he slides his arms over my shoulders, giving me a smile. This is the one that says I’m amusing him. Thank God he isn’t angry. “You need to breathe. Want me to give you mouth-to-mouth?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Never apologize for shit you didn’t do. Another one of Mom’s quotes. Though that’s not how she worded it exactly.”
“What was your dad’s take on such things?”
“Dad never apologized regardless of who was to blame. Never admit culpability. Get a lawyer on the phone. ‘Plausible deniability’ was his middle name.” He leans his forehead against mine. “Alice, so long as you like the things, it’s fine.”
“It’s not really.”
“What would your mom say?” he asks, tone curious.
“That no one woman could possibly need this much stuff. Though she would also check out which designers were present and do some drooling.” I sigh. “She’d also say women apologize far too much for things that either aren’t a problem or aren’t their fault. So I guess our mothers have that in common.”
“I agree with them. Anything you don’t want, send back. It’s your choice.”
I frown some more.
“You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I don’t need you to change a single hair on your pretty head for me. You know that, right?”
“Quite a few of those hairs have already been chopped, dyed, and changed.” I smile. “But thank you. It’s nice to hear you say it. I feel like a gold digger.”
“Don’t be silly. I have the money and enjoy spending it on you. End of story.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “But if you don’t want it, send it back. If, however, there’s stuff in here you do like, then keep it. Let me spoil you a little.”
“This is a lot more than a little.”
“Here’s the thing.” He wraps his arms around me, pulling me in against his body. “If you’re worried this early in our relationship about us not being financially equal, the only way I can fix that is by giving you half of my net worth.”
I gasp. “That is not funny.”
“I almost want to do it just to see the look on your face. And Ethan’s. It is not an understatement to say my brother would lose his shit completely. Could be fun.”
“Please be serious.”
“I am being serious. You can’t let all of this freak you out,” he says, calm as can be. “I get that you didn’t have any warning about me coming from money when we met, but it is part of my world. And you want to be part of my world, right?”
I just look at him.
“And, no, I’m still not suggesting I needed you to change for me.”
“Then what are you suggesting?”
“That I have the money, first due to my trust fund and now the inheritance. It’s not going anywhere. We might as well enjoy it.”
Easy for him to say. “Beck, do you see how I’m kind of caught between being a money-worrying pain in the ass and feeling like I’m using you here?”
“You’re not using me,” he says, voice bordering on angry. “Believe me, I know exactly how that feels. Look at me.”
I do as told and his knuckles gently caress my cheek. “I don’t want to wreck this,” I explain. “I’m just so far out of my element.”
“Let it go and enjoy the things. Things can be fun.” He gives me a lopsided smile. Quite possibly the most endearing one in his arsenal. My knees instantly go weak. The power the man has over me is breathtaking. But still, there’s an opportunity to ask a question here. And the only thing I love as much as having Beck’s attention, having him touch me, is getting to learn more about him.
“Though if you were having fun, why did you leave all of this to clean tables?” I ask.
“Because I had to find you.”
I pause. “That’s a pretty great line.”
“And Austen didn’t even write it.” He pulls back, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I had to get my head sorted out and I had to find you. Think I did a pretty good job on both counts. Though especially the last one.”
“Oh God. You’re giving me feelings again.”
“Sorry about that.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No,” he says with a soft smile. “I’m really not.”
“So I met Selah today.”
Beck freezes with the smoked prime rib sandwich ordered off room service halfway to his mouth. “Did you now?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That explains it. Between her and Rachel, I’m not surprised you now have a closet to rival a Kardashian.”
I point a fry in his general direction. They’re damn good fries and the burger wasn’t bad either. A blob of ketchup is hanging off a finger so I suck that off quick smart. Yum.
Meanwhile, he sits there, frozen, staring at my mouth.
“You okay?” I ask.
He blinks. “Huh?”
“Let’s discuss you and Selah…because I’m getting the feeling there’s a story there.”
“Why am I always telling you my stories, and you’re never telling me yours?”
“You haven’t told me that many and I’m happy to trade you tale for tale.”
“Deal,” he says. “You go first. I’m still eating.”
“What do you want to hear about?”
He ponders this for a moment. “How about your first love? What competition am I up against here?”
We’re on the apartment’s terrace, sitting opposite each other on couches with the fire going to warm the chill of the autumn air. Our first night alone together in Denver. Stars twinkle overhead and the sounds of the city are far below. It’s lovely.
“My first serious boyfriend was during my last year of college.” I abandon the remaining fries and stack up any empty plates before settling back into the comfy seat. “His name was Paul.”
“I hate him already.”
“You don’t like the name Paul?”
“I have no opinion regarding the name Paul. I just hate this one in particular for reasons that shall remain secret.”
I bite back a smile. “Okay then. So Paul was on the football team. I thought I was so lucky to have gotten his attention. To have such a big man on campus for a boyfriend. He and I spent lots of time together going on drives and watching the stars and hanging out in my room. We both had hormones so sex was soon involved. What didn’t occur to me for a long time, or at least didn’t initially bother me, was that we never really hung out with his friends. Now and then we’d do something with mine, but never his. He made all of the usual excuses. How he wanted to keep me to himself, that we had so much fun alone with no pants on, that his friends were boring immature jerks only interested in keg parties…you know.”
Beck just watches me, his sandwich forgotten.
“But the fact was, he was embarrassed to be seen with me. I wasn’t one of the skinny cool girls.”
His gaze darkens. “Knew I hated Paul for a reason.”
“So that’s the story of my first love.”
“You loved him?”
“No.” I smile. “I just thought I did. Idiot didn’t even give me my first vaginal orgasm.”
“Now that’s a story I need to hear and don’t spare any details.”
“Fine. But I would point out that I asked for the story of your first love.”
“Honestly.” I frown in thought. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.”
“Okay. Interesting.” He wipes his hands off on a napkin before taking a swig of beer. There’s a masculine grace to even his simplest movements. And the way his throat works when he swallows. I’m more than a little gaga over this man. “Selah, huh? The story of Selah is, my father decided she’d make a great starter wife. Looked good, had a trust fund, came from the right family, wouldn’t give them too much trouble over the prenup. So he talked Rachel into giving her an internship and then set about putting Selah in my path. Like an idiot I fell for it, even bought her a ring.”
“Did Selah know about your father’s plan?”
“That she did. His people had given her all of the inside information. My likes and dislikes. Places I went, things I did, people I’d dated, that sort of thing.”
“Shit.”
“Indeed.” He turns his head, staring out at the city lights and the mountains in the distance. It’s a breathtaking view though it has nothing on him. His expression, however, is a long way from happy. “Selah was all-in for the status and wealth of marrying an Elliot. It was Rachel who put two and two together and started asking the right questions. She and Dad had this huge fight. Then Selah finally admitted everything to me and…yeah.”
“Did she love you?”
“Does it matter?”
“But you obviously loved her, right?” I ask. “I mean, you bought her a ring.”
Beck’s forehead furrows. “I don’t know. I think she made sense to me, more than anything. She fit into the life my father and I supposedly had planned out. My great big successful future as part of the Elliot dynasty. Not exactly romantic, but there you have it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. If I hadn’t gone through that then I might not have seen how small my world was and what a cold emotionless void my future was shaping up to be. I was turning out just like dear old Dad. The things we do to please people, huh?”
“But you and her never lived together?”
His tongue plays behind his cheek. “No. She suggested it several times, but I kept putting it off for some reason.”