by Tess Oliver
I shook off the disappointment that threatened to crawl back, and I decided not to question the cocoa. For the first time, I noticed a blue satiny pair of pajamas on the bed. They looked expensive and pretty darn sexy for pajamas. I ran my hand over the fabric. It felt smooth and cool and sensual. I decided they were for me.
I sat on the edge of the bed and picked up a cookie. Delicious. Naturally. Coco was magical in every sense of the word. I picked up the linen napkin, which looked a little too nice for wiping away a whipped cream moustache, and noticed it was embroidered with Silk Stocking Inn. I turned it over. There was lettering on the back. “Only your heart can lead you to a happy ending.”
It was a perfectly logical sentiment, except that it had nothing to do with logic. It sounded exactly like something my mom would say. I stared down into the swirl of whipped cream. It was almost ludicrous, but I was slowly coming to the realization that my lifestyle, one that would be considered proper and safe for most doting moms, was completely the opposite of how I grew up. While many girls rebelled by breaking out of the proper and safe guidelines set by parents, I’d been rebelling too. Only I’d adopted safe and proper because my mom had always made such wild and frankly, crazy, decisions. It had been my own form of rebellion. Darn her for doing this to me. Darn her for making me the conventional good and decent woman.
I could hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. The shower turned on in the bathroom across the way. I drank my cocoa and visualized what Beck would look like standing beneath a steady stream of soapy water. That daydream conjured every possible physical sensation, and before I knew it, I was feeling a little drunk, both from the sexy image of Beck in the shower and from the rich, heady taste of the cocoa.
Ten minutes later, I’d drained my cocoa mug and the shower turned off. Apparently, Beck was getting ready to go to bed. I decided to freshen up and change into the pajamas that felt as light and soft as a cloud. If nothing else, it would be a cozy, albeit lonely, night in my lovely romantic room.
Chapter 11
I stood in the full length mirror and marveled at the exact fit of the silky pajamas. The color was perfect against my skin and it went with my hair too. It was perplexing. But I’d given up on trying to solve the mystery that was Coco.
I walked back to the bed. The napkin with the embroidered sentiment stared back at me. Had that been my downfall all along? Was that why I’d continuously picked the wrong man? I’d always led with my head, figuring my heart would eventually catch up. Only it never did, and I ended up in relationships that left me feeling empty.
A ridiculous, completely out of my comfort zone idea popped into my head. Maybe it was time to expand that absurdly small so-called comfort zone. Maybe for once, I should lead with my heart and keep my head completely out of it.
I went to the mirror again. The pajamas were a touch conservative and, ironically enough, a whole lot provocative. They were exactly what I needed. That Coco. I unbuttoned the top button on the shirt just to expose a little more cleavage. I fluffed up my long hair to give it a disheveled, just out of bed look. Then, with bare feet and confident steps I walked out into the hallway.
Before I could let my head try and stop me, I marched straight up to Beck’s door and knocked. Lightly and tentatively, at first, but then I rapped it hard enough to sting my knuckles. There was no response. I felt as deflated as a soufflé that had been checked on once too often.
I turned to leave, and the door behind me opened. I spun back around but was completely unprepared for the half naked demigod standing in the doorway, or filling up the doorway would be more accurate. His ink art stretched on much farther than I’d first assumed. The tattoos traversed all the curves of his muscles in perfect harmony. He was like a magnificent painting that had far too many focal points to pick out just one spot to be mesmerized by. And then there was his incredible face, which could not be attributed to tattoo artists but more to damn lucky genetics.
He leaned his massive arm up against the doorframe. Something about the dark mass of hair under his arm pit and the way his bicep muscles bunched up with potential power caused heat to swirl through my belly.
I had walked over with all the confidence of a damn gladiator, but now I was speechless and feeling a little unstable.
His long, black lashes dropped down along with his gaze as he surveyed my outfit. “Damn, library lady, don’t know if I’ve ever seen a woman rock a pair of pajamas like you’re rocking those.”
“Yes, well—” I did a runway model turn for him. “And I might return the compliment. You rock those tattoos pretty well too. In fact, all of this”—I waved my hand in front of him—“is working for you.”
“How about you?”
I peered up at him. “How about me, what?”
“Is it working for you?”
I swallowed and locked my unsteady knees beneath me. “Yes,” the word squeaked out. I took a deep breath. “Did you hear that little bird chirp just now? That means it’s really working for me.”
He reached forward, took hold of my arm and pulled me into his room. The decor in the bedroom on this side of the hallway was decidedly more masculine, with a dark walnut dresser and four post canopy bed. There was a mountain of pillows and tan curtains were tied up to each post. The linens were of a green and blue tartan plaid instead of the floral prints in my room.
Beck’s big hands cupped my face, and he lifted it to his mouth, where he quickly returned to the amazing kiss that he’d left me with in the hallway. His hands slid easily beneath the watery fabric of the pajamas. He smoothed his slightly callused palms over the bare skin of my back.
“The fabric is soft,” he muttered against my lips, “but the skin is even softer. You are a damn treat from head to toe, Emmie. My cock’s been hard for you since you sashayed toward me to pick up that chalk.”
I’d never had any man speak so brazenly to me in my life, and it should have stopped me cold from what I was about to do. Instead, it had the opposite effect. I found myself nearly crumpling against him, wanting him to take me naked to his bed. My head spun with the idea of it. And the ache in my pussy became stronger with each stroke of his tongue and each caress of his hand.
He was muscle and raw power, and it seemed he could easily crush me in his arms. That difference in our size and strength not only made me feel that much more vulnerable, it made me want him that much more.
“Say no now, Em, or this is going until the end.” His voice was ragged and deep. “I need to know you want this before I give in to it.” I could feel him holding back with every ounce of his self-control.
I leaned forward and kissed his chest and his shoulder. “I want this, Beck. I want you.”
Chapter 12
For a man his size, Beck moved with incredible speed. I had barely taken my next breath when he had me up in his arms. He carried me to the bed and lowered me impatiently onto the plaid quilt. He knelt over me and began unbuttoning the silk pajamas.
“I could just lift it off over my head,” I suggested.
“And deny me the fun of unbuttoning it?” The satiny panels fell away. The way he gazed down at my breasts warmed my entire body. He leaned down over my naked breasts and kissed each one soft and tenderly at first. Then his lips and tongue teased my nipples until I was nearly breathless from it.
His mouth stayed firmly on my breasts as he let his hand drift down my belly. As his fingers pushed beneath the pajama bottoms, a cry that sounded a little like a plea, came from my lips.
He grinned in response. “You keep making hot sounds like that, sweetheart, and this will be done before it even starts.” He watched my face as his hand slid farther down, tucking itself between my legs. “Beautiful,” he groaned, “I knew your pussy would be as beautiful as the rest of you.”
My legs fell apart, inviting him to touch more of me. Feeling almost
frustrated from wanting him so badly, I reached for the fly on his jeans. “I want to see all of you, Beck. You’re like art. Please.”
He seemed pleased with being referred to as art, but it was the truth. He rose up from the bed and walked to the end, his massive frame looming over the bed, between the curves of the open canopy. With teasing slowness, he opened his jeans and pushed them to the floor.
The sound in my throat was no longer a chirp but a long, luxurious mewl. The fleshy tip of his erection glistened with moisture as it pointed directly at me. He did not disappoint. In fact, naked he was nothing short of breathtaking.
To add to the erotic picture in front of me, he lifted his hands up and rested them along the wood frame of the canopy top. The muscles of his arms, chest and stomach seemed to ripple, almost as if choreographed to move along with a silent melody. And all the while, his thick, hard cock did a dance of its own.
“Looking at you makes me feel like an insignificant troll,” I said pulling the panels of my pajama top shut.
He knelt on the bed and crawled so fast toward me, the king sized bed lurched from side to side as if it had been filled with water. Beck leaned down on one elbow next to me and promptly slid open my top again. “You are so fucking beautiful, I haven’t stopped thinking of you since you stepped out of that fog.”
I sighed. “All right, my male masterpiece, after that well-phrased sentence I am completely and utterly yours.”
Beck grinned down at me with a slightly raised brow as if he was considering something. A moment of sheer disappointment struck me when it seemed he’d changed his mind completely. Instead, he offered me his hand and helped me to sitting.
“I stripped for you. Now you need to return the favor.” He motioned for me to stand at the foot of the bed as he’d done.
“All right, but the light seems awfully bright in—”
He kissed me to stop me from finishing. “Sweetheart, get naked now, or I will do it for you. And I might not be too gentle with those nice pajamas.”
I scooted quickly to the end of the bed and put my feet on the floor. I turned around. The shirt was already unbuttoned, and he’d seen all the important stuff already. I let it slide down my arms, caught it on one hand and tossed it onto a nearby chair.
I reached up as he had done, but my hands fell well short of the canopy frame.
“You’re stalling, library lady, and my cock is getting damn impatient.”
I pushed the pajama pants down. They dropped to my feet. “Well?” I asked with a slight waver in my voice.
“You look so damn fuckable, Emmie.” He reached over to the nightstand and picked up a condom package.
“I like a man who comes prepared,” I quipped, the waver getting more noticeable.
“What a coincidence,” he said as he rolled on the condom without taking his eyes off me. “Because I like a woman who comes.”
Beck scooted toward me and sat on the end of the bed. He held my hands out so that I could cover nothing. He kept my hands there as his mouth leaned forward to kiss my breasts. He lowered my arms, and his hands wrapped around my waist. He lifted me up to straddle his lap.
I curled my arms around his neck. Our teasing, flirting and quips fell silent. Suddenly, I felt nearly overwhelmed with what I was about to do. I barely knew the man who had his arms wrapped around me, and yet, I felt a connection that I hadn’t expected.
He lifted his face to mine. As I lowered my mouth, his hands slid beneath my ass. His fingers slid through the moisture pooling between my legs. I swallowed a deep breath, reveling in the intense feel of his touch.
My lips parted, and I kissed him deeply, my tongue stroking his mouth as I slid down over his cock. It seemed I would never reach the end. As he filled me, my body trembled with pleasure.
“Fuck, baby, you are so damn sweet,” he groaned. His fingers gripped my ass tightly and he pushed up deep inside of me. I tightened my pussy around him, wanting to feel every inch.
“Beck.” His name came out as a whisper. He groaned in response.
“I could listen to you say my name like that every fucking minute of the day.”
No longer able to restrain ourselves, we moved more urgently. I held onto him tightly as he impaled me again and again. He held my ass firmly as we slammed together, meeting each time as if we’d belonged together, as if our bodies were made for each other.
The warm friction built around my pussy as our bodies met bringing me quickly to orgasm. “Oh, Beck,” I cried as my arms tightened around him. My body pulsed with heat and energy. My pussy narrowed around his erection as waves of ecstasy rolled through me.
I softened in his arms, trying hard to keep my spinning head from lolling back. Without withdrawing, he spun around and laid me back on the bed. He lowered himself gently over me, taking care not to crush me beneath his massive body.
He lowered his mouth to mine, and I braced for fast and frantic. It was the way David had always finished, sometimes not even waiting for me to climax first. But Beck wasn’t David. He was raw sensuality, every bit of him. The way he moved slow and deep inside of me brought me close to tears.
Beck’s hand slid beneath my bottom. He lifted me higher and rocked against me until his body stiffened. A deep growl rolled up from his chest and he came.
He relaxed his head on the pillow next to me. I curled my arm around his neck. We lay like that for a long time, listening to each other’s heartbeats and the creaky walls of the old house.
“Beck?”
“Hmm?”
“I promise never to call you a jerk again.”
“Good. I kind of prefer the work of art comparison.”
I smiled and turned my face. Our noses touched, and his brown eyes gazed into mine. “Damn, library lady, where the hell have you been all my life?”
I reached up and caressed the side of his face. “I’ve been hiding in the stacks waiting for my knight to pop out of one of those darn books. And all this time, he was sitting in a dingy pool hall.”
He laughed and swept me into his arms as he rolled to his side. We both drifted into a comfortable, deep sleep.
Chapter 13
It had been like pulling myself away from the climactic ending of an exceptionally good movie, but I’d managed to coax out from the warm cocoon created by the quilt and Beck’s body. He’d stirred for a second, and I was sure he’d pull me back for more sex like he’d done twice during the night. Each time had been amazing and unforgettable.
I smiled down at the handsome sleeping giant, he looked just as formidable asleep as awake with his dark hair and ink covered muscles. But as formidable as the man looked, he was beyond masterful as a lover. It would be extremely hard to move on with any relationship after one wonderful night with Beck.
I pulled my pajamas back on and nearly laughed out loud. Coco had left the fabulous pajamas, and I’d relished the idea of sleeping in the satiny confection, yet I hadn’t worn them for longer than fifteen minutes. I would be sorry to leave the pajamas and the inn and, most especially, the man behind when I headed back home.
I wasn’t completely sure what had made me leave his warm bed at the crack of dawn. It might just have been propriety and not wanting Coco to discover that I’d slept across the hall or it might have been because I wasn’t completely sure how to say good-bye to Beck. If I was honest with myself, I was probably ducking out so it would be easier to leave. One long night with Beck had churned up some emotion. I realized I wanted a relationship with the kind of passion, the kind of lust that made you do stuff you wouldn’t normally do.
I opened the door and glanced back at Beck before leaving. He was fast asleep. I realized I knew absolutely nothing about him except that he was breathtaking to look at, rode a motorcycle, had a temper and his skills in bed were masterful.
I shut the
door to his room and felt a little despondent about it all. It had been silly for me to believe that I could spend the night with a man like Beck and then just saunter away as if it hadn’t happened. Something told me I was going to be feeling the sting of my impulsive decision for a long time.
I needed to sort out my car trouble or find a ride home this morning. If I stayed much longer, I might just end up falling for him.
Of course, Beck was probably on his way out this morning too. I doubted he would be feeling any of the tugs of regret that I was experiencing. He would more than likely ride off on his motorcycle, moving on to the next adventure like some dark brooding nomad. Or maybe he had a woman waiting for him somewhere. Since I knew little about the man who I’d just made love to three times, my imagination could drum up a number of upsetting scenarios.
During the short journey across the hallway, I chided myself for being such a fool. My sincere attempt to make sure I was back in my room before Coco discovered me missing had failed. There was a buttery smelling scone sitting on a plate next to a cup of coffee.
I felt a blush cover my face and was feeling more than a bit embarrassed. Then I reminded myself that I was a grown woman with the capability and right to make my own decisions. Even if they were questionable, at best.