by Selena Kitt
“You,” he said simply, watching her spread cream cheese and lick her fingers some more. His gaze moved over her, top to bottom, pointing to the spots on her t-shirt. “I got you all wet.”
“Tell me about it.” She tilted her eyes to meet his, grinning, and he laughed, lifting his glass to take a drink of milk.
“Tilly?” Liv was calling her from the living room, voice sounding distant, far away. “That must be an awfully big sandwich you’re making in there.”
A fountain of milk went spraying across the island. Beast coughed, covering his mouth and trying not to laugh more than he had to.
“Just a minute! I’m coming!” trilled Tilly, her voice rising measurably in her attempt not to laugh as well.
“Not yet you’re not,” Beast choked, still laughing. Tilly patted his back to help ease his coughing, but just that simple touch ignited things between them again. They forgot everything and grabbed at each other, trying desperately not to make too much noise as Beast slid her onto the island and kissed her.
His hands roamed all over her body, as if he couldn’t ever get enough, and she felt the same way. She knew anyone could come in at any minute—and while some of the staff would keep their secret if discovered, like Hanna, for example, she knew there were some who wouldn’t. And if Liv found out…
“Tilly?” Liv called again. “Are you coming?”
Sometimes she swore her mother had radar or extrasensory perception.
“Not yet,” Beast said again lowly, cupping her mound, and Tilly gasped, putting her legs around him. “But I could make you come if I wanted to. Right now.”
“Yes sir,” she whispered, seeing the way his eyes lit up when she said those words, here in the middle of the kitchen.
Liv again. “I want to see if that poor Mr. Bates ever gets out of prison, don’t you?”
Tilly smiled. Of course, in the other room, Mr. Bates was likely being screwed over by someone or other yet again. And all Tilly wanted was to be screwed, every which way, by the man covering the heat of her pussy in his hand.
“That Mr. Bates,” whispered Beast in Tilly’s ear, “can stay in prison while I eat your little pussy.”
“Coming, Mother!” Tilly called back, biting her lip to keep from crying out when his thumb rubbed at her clit. “Oh fuck, Beast, please… this is torture…”
“I know.” He groaned, sighed, and lowered his head to nuzzle her ear. “I’m so tempted to take you upstairs, lock the door, and—”
She groaned, ready to do exactly that, when the doorbell rang.
They both heard Julia—she did their shopping, cooking and scheduled all the house staff—answer the door. Her nasal voice was unmistakable. Then Tilly heard the cheerful voice of her Aunt Meg calling for her younger sister.
“Crap,” Tilly whispered, sliding off the island as Beast took a step back. She looked down at her clothes—she was still wet, in so many ways, and needed to change—as Julia came into the kitchen. Thankfully, Beast had turned and opened the refrigerator, peering inside, and Tilly picked up her bagel.
“Your Aunt Megan and Miles are here,” Julia said. She was a pretty, older woman who always wore her dark hair pulled back and sounded like she was speaking while holding her nose.
Miles?
Tilly looked toward the kitchen door and now she could hear the lispy, little voice of Miles piping up, telling his Auntie Liv all about his new toy dinosaur.
“Hello Miles!” Tilly called out and she heard the sound of his feet pounding on the herringbone floor of the foyer. He burst into the kitchen, waving his dinosaur as he ran headlong toward her.
Tilly just had time to put her bagel down before he reached her and she scooped him up, laughing at his non-stop, somewhat nonsensical chatter about his new “bontasawus.”
“Are you hungry, baby?” Tilly asked, brushing his dark hair from his forehead and kissing it. “Want me to make you something to eat?”
Tilly carried him to the fridge, where Beast was pulling out bread and lunchmeat.
“I’m hungwy,” Miles nodded gravely, holding his dinosaur up so he could look into the fridge. “And so’s he.”
“Me too.” Beast smiled at Miles.
“Who’re you?” Miles cocked his head, wrinkling his nose at the big, shirtless man now making a sandwich in the middle of the kitchen.
“That’s Beast,” Tilly told him. “Remember, Auntie Liv told you he was coming home. He’s my…”
Tilly stopped, looking at Beast, feeling helpless.
“My father married Tilly’s mother,” Beast explained, squirting mustard on wheat bread. “So that makes us—”
“Auntie Liv’s not married,” Miles interrupted, giggling like he thought that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, and his version of “married” came out more like “maw-weed.”
“She was though,” Tilly protested.
“Well where’s her husband then?” Miles looked very confused.
“My father died,” Beast told him, putting ham on his bread.
“I don’t have a Daddy,” Miles told him, frowning at Beast’s news. “But I have two mommies, an Auntie Liv—and a Tiwwy.”
Miles beamed at Tilly and she kissed his cheek, smiling back.
“Well then you’re lucky.” Beast winked, adding salami to his sandwich. “Hey, big guy, want me to make you and your dinosaur friend a sandwich, while I’m at it?”
“I don’t like mouse-turds.” Miles shook his head vehemently.
“Mouse… what?” Beast choked out a laugh.
“Mustard,” Tilly giggled, hefting Miles on her hip. He was getting so big! “I bet I know what you want instead...” Miles was already vigorously nodding as Tilly continued, “A peanut butter and banana sandwich?”
“Cut in twiangles!” Miles reminded her as she set him down so she could go about the business of fulfilling his request.
Beast took his sandwich and glass of milk over to the breakfast nook and Miles followed him, talking a mile a minute. Tilly glanced over, seeing if Beast wanted her to rescue him, then smiling and relaxing when Beast started telling Miles all about a friend he served with whose nickname was “Pterodactyl,” but she missed the explanation because Kate came into the kitchen.
“Hey you,” Tilly said to Kate, cutting the peanut butter and banana sandwich—on white, not wheat—into triangles. “Surprised to see you guys!”
“Meg had some papers to drop off for your mother,” Kate explained, smiling over at Miles, who was eagerly telling Beast that he not only had a Brontosaurus, but a “Tywanosowas” and a “Wapto,” too. The prehistoric menagerie was growing, Tilly thought, putting his sandwich down in front of him.
“Mook?” Miles tilted his big, dark eyes up at her, already talking through a bite of peanut butter and banana.
“Can’t have peanut butter without milk,” Beast agreed, correctly deciphering his word.
“I’ll get it,” Kate called, opening the fridge.
Tilly slipped into the chair on the other side of Beast, feeling his knee brush hers under the table.
Miles looked back and forth between Beast and Tilly, and then pointed at Beast.
“I know why they call you Beast,” he said.
“Why?”
Miles pointed to Tilly. “Because she’s Beauty. You know, Beauty and the Beast.”
Tilly blushed and Beast laughed, nodding, “You got it, big guy.”
“You’re all wet, Tiwwy,” Miles noted, mouth still full. “But your hair isn’t. Did you go swimmin’?”
“No, I did,” Beast replied, sliding his milk across to Miles. “Here, want some?”
The little boy nodded gratefully, picking up the glass and gulping noisily.
“I wanna go swimmin’, too!” Miles said, wiping his milk mustache off with the back of his chubby hand, in spite of the napkin Tilly had placed beside his plate. “But they won’t let me!”
“We have to go home and feed all the animals,” Kate reminded him, bringing out a
sippy cup of milk and Tilly saw him make a face. He was a little too old for sippy cups—Tilly didn’t make him drink out of one anymore when he came over, in spite of Liv’s protests. But she let Miles get away with a lot that everyone else didn’t.
“You can go swimming next time,” Tilly promised, reaching over and picking up his Brontosaurus. “Bring all your dinosaurs, they can go swimming, too. And if you’re really good, I bet Beast would take you for a ride in his Mustang. Did you see the red car out front?”
“That’s yours?” Miles perked up, eyes big as he turned new, admiring eyes on Beast. “Can we go now?”
“Not now, Miles,” Kate said, shaking her head with a sigh. “We have to—”
“Kate!” It was Meg’s voice, high and panicked. “Tilly! Somebody!”
“Mother,” Tilly whispered, her wide eyes meeting Beast’s.
Kate was already heading toward Meg’s call. Tilly felt Beast’s hand in hers as she stood, and she grabbed onto Miles, pulling him, protesting, out of his chair.
“But I’m not done eatin’!” he said as they hurried through the foyer. “I left my bontasawus!”
Miles was slowing her down—Beast was practically running, pulling her—so Tilly picked him up and settled him on her hip as they entered the living room. On the television, poor Mr. Bates was getting screwed over by someone, yet again, but Liv had ceased watching.
Tilly saw her mother on the couch, surrounded by people now, most of them staff. Liv’s face was pale, her wig slightly askew, her chest rising and falling quickly with her labored, shallow breathing.
At least she’s breathing.
That was the thing that mattered, Tilly thought, watching as Hanna knelt beside the sofa, adjusting the oxygen mask over Liv’s face. She held Liv’s wrist for a pulse, looking at her watch, and Tilly thought, only nurses wear wrist watches anymore. Hanna wasn’t technically a nurse, but she had training, and old habits died hard.
“It happened so suddenly.” Meg stood beside her sister, wringing her hands, as Kate put an arm around her for comfort.
“Dowwwwwn,” Miles protested, wiggling in Tilly’s arms, and she sighed, putting him down and going over to stand near Meg and Kate. Beast went with her, not letting go of her hand.
“One moment she was fine, and then she just...” Meg shook her head, turning big, scared eyes up to Kate, then to Tilly. “I thought she was going to pass out.”
“I’m fine!” Liv protested, although it was just a gasp, as she pulled at the oxygen mask, trying to remove it. “I just… need to go upstairs… lie down.”
Her breathing was even more labored when she tried to talk. Tilly hadn’t heard her like this before. Winded, sure. But this seemed different. She felt Beast’s hand tighten in hers and she looked up at him, feeling something panicked taking flight in her chest.
“Please leave the mask on Mrs. Beeston,” pleaded Hanna, trying to put it back in place. “There’s no harm in leaving it on.”
“Let Hanna help you,” Tilly urged as her mother assured them she was fine, just fine.
She was better with the mask on and could turn her energy toward complaining.
“Tilly was supposed to be watching Downton Abbey with me,” her mother shook her head, glancing at her daughter. Tilly saw the way Liv’s eagle eyes raked down Tilly’s outfit, noticing the not-quite-dry spots on her clothes. Then her gaze skipped to Beast, whose swim trunks were still wet.
“We can watch it upstairs,” Tilly soothed, seeing Julia already bustling around, getting things ready to move Liv.
“Oh Hanna, quit fussing!” Liv waved Hanna’s hands away when she tried to adjust the mask so it more fully covered Liv’s face. “Meg, what are you still doing here? I thought you were just dropping off the papers from Heathcliff?”
Heathcliff, Tilly knew, was Liv’s lawyer. Well, one of them. He was short, stocky, and baby-faced, and held no resemblance to his literary namesake, poor man. But Liv said he was a hell of a contract writer. Tilly had met him on a few occasions, both here at the house and at several charity and social events.
“Well.” Meg looked at Kate, and Tilly saw the hurt on her face. When Liv was in pain, her tongue was even sharper than usual. “As long as you’re okay....”
“I’m fine, Megan.” Even breathing hard, Liv’s syllables were clipped as Hanna and Julia both helped her onto her feet.
“I can carry her,” Beast offered, and Tilly looked up at him, grateful.
“No!” Liv said sharply. It was the harshest tone Tilly had ever heard her use with him. “I don’t need your help.”
“I suppose we might as well go,” said Meg with a sigh as they started helping Liv into the wheelchair. “Miles! Come on, we’re going.”
There was no answer. Tilly glanced beside her, expecting him to be there, but he wasn’t. She glanced around the living room, thinking he must have gone to a quiet corner to play with his dinosaur.
“Miles?” Meg called again, frowning as her eyes followed the same path Tilly’s had taken. “Don’t play around. Come on, we’ve got to go.”
Tilly met Beast’s eyes. The panic that had risen to her chest was now fighting its way up her throat.
“He left his dinosaur,” Beast reminded her. “In the kitchen.”
Relief flooded Tilly and they raced down the long foyer. Beast got there first, but there was no Miles—just his half eaten sandwich and the Brontosaurus on the table.
Tilly heard Meg calling again from the living room. “Miles, I mean it! We’re leaving right now!”
So they hadn’t found him. Where could he be?
The breakfast nook looked out over the perfectly landscaped backyard, and Tilly’s stomach dropped straight to her toes.
“The pool,” she whispered, looking at Beast, telling herself she was just being “Silly Tilly,” that Miles didn’t have time to…
Beast was out of the kitchen almost the moment Tilly uttered those words.
For a man his size, he could move like lightning. He was already strides ahead of Tilly as she dashed out of the kitchen, through the French doors and into the backyard.
Tilly remembered one of those recurring dreams she had as a child, where she was running from something unseen, but the ground was thick, like sand, and her legs felt weighed down, leaden. This felt like that, like she couldn’t move fast enough, although this time, she was running towards something instead of away from it.
She heard a loud splash—a man-sized splash, not a boy-sized one, and looked up, knowing it could only mean that Miles was indeed in trouble and Beast was rescuing him. Part of her realized that the sound of that splash might be something she’d carry with her the rest of her life, a sound she would never forget, because it would be the day that Miles…
No!
Her mind just wouldn’t let her go there.
Tilly arrived, panting, at the pool just in time to see a sopping wet Beast haul a spluttering Miles out of it. Miles was wearing just his underwear and orange water wings. Liv had bought a bunch of extras—they always seemed to get lost or lose air. Thank God he’d stopped to put them on, Tilly thought, clutching her heart. It was beating so hard it felt as if it was going to burst out of her chest.
If he hadn’t…
Miles cried loudly—although more because Beast had scared him, it seemed, than from any real injury—putting a cold, wet arm around Tilly as Beast hefted the boy toward her. But Miles wasn’t letting go of his “rescuer” either, and the three of them huddled together, both Miles and Tilly shaking and crying with fear, Beast enveloping them in the circle of his arms.
“Don’t you ever, ever do that again,” Tilly cried hoarsely, her tears falling on the little boy’s wet head. “You know you’re not allowed to go in the pool by yourself!”
“I’m sowwy, Tiwwy, I’m sowwy,” Miles sobbed over and over, burying his face against her neck.
“He’s fine,” Beast soothed, squeezing Tilly’s shoulder with a big, wet hand. “Just scared. He—”
<
br /> “Oh my God!” Meg screamed.
Tilly felt her heart skip in her chest at the panicked sound and she looked over to see her Aunt Megan storming across the grass, fists clenched. Meg didn’t get angry very often, but when she did, it was usually a fireworks display. And Tilly had a feeling they were in for a doozy.
“He’s okay, Meg,” Beast called out and Tilly met his gaze. He knew Meg well enough to know what was coming, too, and was trying to head it off at the pass. “He’s going to be—”
“Why weren’t you watching him!” Meg was halfway to them, nearly running. “He was in the kitchen with you! You know it only takes a moment, Tilly! It only takes a moment with a pool around!”