Love Me Two Times (Rock Royalty Book 8)

by Christie Ridgway

  “Beautiful,” he said again, and then he pressed his thumb against her clit and rolled over its wet, swollen surface.

  Bliss crashed into her, slamming her against the sofa cushions as she climaxed and climaxed and climaxed, his expert touch milking from her each drop of near-painful passion. Her eyes squeezed tight as the last tremors receded. One breath, two, then she remembered where she was, who she was, and who she was with. Uh-oh.

  Part of her wanted to stay behind the curtain of her closed eyes forever, but that was impossible. Parting her lashes, she saw his face, flushed across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. There was a dark glitter in his eyes.

  She couldn’t help it. Her inner muscles clenched at the sight, tightening on the fingers that still filled her.

  He made a low sound and she squirmed, embarrassed and still aroused and not knowing what to do or where to look.

  Beck, as always, understood all that without her saying a word. “Okay,” he said. “You’re okay.”

  His fingers fluttered, and her breath caught in her throat. “Beck…”

  “I know,” he whispered. “Take a big breath now. Then let it out and relax.”

  Blushing, she realized he couldn’t withdraw from her body until she loosened her grip on him.

  “It’s okay, baby,” he said. “Relax.”

  It took another moment, but then she managed it, and he withdrew his hand from between her thighs. He stared down at his fingers, as if the wetness coating them fascinated him. Another shiver rolled down her spine.

  He glanced up at her. “Maybe this is the taste I need to remember,” he said, and brought them to his mouth.

  Oh, God. Jewel felt a renewed thrum in the hot flesh between her thighs as she watched him lick her arousal from his hand. A whimper released from her mouth, and Beck’s gaze bored into hers.

  Goosebumps flashed over her skin.

  And then, through the monitor in the room, came the sound of a baby’s cries.

  Her baby. Jewel’s pulse jolted and she leaped up, swiping her shirt from the floor in the same movement. My God, what have I done? she thought. What have I let him do to me?

  She was a mother, she reminded herself as she scurried toward the nursery. A strong, resolute, caring mother.

  None of which had saved her from becoming a yearning, needing, greedy woman in the arms of her ex-lover.

  The next afternoon, Beck hefted a new stroller in one arm and gripped a manila folder in his other hand as he strode up the walk to Jewel’s house. It meant he had to use his elbow to knock on the front door, but he managed to do it softly.

  When she appeared in the doorway he sucked in a sharp breath. Even in a casual dress, topped by a denim jacket and with sneakers on her feet, she blew his mind.

  No wonder he’d been unable to come up with any pick-up line better than a Shirley reference the first time they’d met. Yesterday, he’d tried to pretend that dumbass opening had been part of a larger plan to charm his way into her pants, but more likely he’d been unable to think clearly once he saw her face, smelled her hair and skin, experienced that mad flare of lust only she ignited in him.

  Yesterday, he’d let himself out of the house when she’d fled the room to tend the baby. At that moment, he’d had no words to address the way she’d come apart in his arms.

  Or express how goddamn good it had been for him, even though he’d not been able to satisfy himself until he’d stiff-legged it to the cottage, shed his clothes, and ducked under the spray in the shower.

  Yeah, he’d felt like a god following her orgasm, but he’d been unsure about her reaction to it and had wanted to give her some space and time to process.

  Nice try, his inner voice admonished. Fact was, he’d been a coward. Even though he prided himself on the direct approach. Even though he made it his goal to reassure a woman if she felt self-conscious following sex.

  But things with Jewel seemed so much more…important. Critical. No way did he want to make the wrong move and mess her up.

  Because she was the mother of his child, he reassured himself hastily. Nothing more.

  Fuck. He moved to rake his hand through his hair and hit himself in the forehead with the manila folder instead.

  She didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, she continued staring at him, her gaze cool. “Well?” she asked after another silent moment, her tone unruffled.

  Crap, in twenty-four hours she’d managed to build up some massive frozen walls.

  “Let’s talk,” he said, taking a step forward.

  He breathed easier when she moved back to let him inside and then led the way to the kitchen. As if he wasn’t there, she picked up a small package and dumped the contents—a red, powdery substance—into a plastic mixing bowl on the kitchen table.

  “Strawberry JELL-O,” she said. “Grandma has a cold, and she loves the stuff when she’s not feeling well.”

  “Oh.” He glanced around, but didn’t see the older woman.

  “She’s napping.”

  “I take it Soul is napping too?” He slipped the folder onto a nearby counter and propped the stroller against a wall.

  “You’re good at that.”

  “What?”

  “Timing your visits around her nap schedule.”

  Beck frowned. Was that fair? Well… “Maybe I took a stab at it today,” he admitted. “I have things to say.”

  Leaning against a countertop, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed of my responses.”

  “And you shouldn’t.”

  “Really? I let you—” She broke off, blew out a breath. “You’re a stranger.”

  “What? I’m no stranger. We had a thing before. I’m the father of your baby.”

  “You don’t remember the thing, not unless…” A blush crawled up her neck and turned her cheeks a bright pink.

  “No.” Though he recalled exactly the delicious, sweet flavor of her cream on his fingers, it hadn’t prompted a return of his memory. “I’m afraid not.”

  “So there you go.” She slashed a hand through the air. “I’m weird. One kiss and I…whatever that was.”

  Beck held back his grin, but he was feeling god-like all over again. How he loved to make a woman forget her inhibitions and do “whatever that was.” He wished she’d done “whatever that was” all over his face. “An orgasm isn’t an event to regret, Jewel.”

  She sent him a baleful look. “Men.”

  “What does gender have to do with it? Or if you want to take that into account, why can’t you give yourself a break? You’re a new mom, with hormones probably zipping around all over the place, and you have needs. Natural needs. No big deal.”

  “Men,” she said again.

  He might have to let this point go for the moment. “But that’s not all I came to discuss.” With a nod, he indicated the apparatus he’d hauled over. “I bought you a new stroller.”

  She peered around him, noting it, he thought, for the first time. “That’s not a stroller. That’s a luxury, all-terrain vehicle.”

  Smiling, he checked out the gleaming paint and sturdy tires himself. “That’s exactly the way the store described it.”

  “It’s awe-inspiring, but no, I won’t take it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t let you—”

  “Of course you can,” he said, impatient now. “It’s from me, Soul’s father. And it’s just a goddamn stroller.”

  “It probably cost the price of a college education.”

  “Not quite.” Now he picked up the manila folder and tapped the edge on his other palm. “But about that…”

  Even when she was eyeing him like he was the snake in the Garden with an apple, her beauty could stop his heart. “What do you have there?” she asked.

  “A financial proposal.”

  She froze. “Are you expecting us to make a custody arrangement? I won’t give her up.”

  Her obvious fear made him feel
like a heel. “No, no. Christ, that’s not what this is about. I’m no family man. It’s about a trust fund for her. I had my financial guy come up with a tentative plan. We can discuss the details, hammer it out just the way you like.”

  She seemed somewhat mollified. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Of course I do. I’ve got plenty of money, and wasn’t I there when she was conceived?”

  “You’re taking my word on that?”

  “I am, Jewel.” He met her gaze, making sure she knew he was 100-percent sincere. “It came as a shock at first, I admit it, and I behaved badly. I should have apologized right away yesterday. Because I know you wouldn’t lie.”

  “We’re still having the paternity test done.”

  “Whatever you want.” He held out the manila folder. “Check this out at your convenience, but it would be best to have it settled before I leave again.”

  After a moment, she took it. “All right.”

  “As well as the trust and child support, I have in there a proposal for a monthly allowance for you—”

  “No!” She dropped the folder like it singed her fingers. “That is not happening.”

  Beck put up his palms. “We don’t have to discuss it right now.”

  “We’re discussing that never.”

  “And I thought I was the one who liked dishing out orders,” he said mildly.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to distract me by bringing up…by bringing up…”

  He was a bad man. But he’d had her taste in his mouth just yesterday and her pussy muscles gripping his fingers in a sweet vice and all that fragrant skin of hers within easy reach. Not that he’d ever been a good guy, anyway. “You mean by bringing up how I liked to boss you around in bed?”

  “And everywhere else,” she muttered.

  His eyebrows rose at that. “I tried to tell you what to do outside of—”

  “I mean sex didn’t always involve a bed.”

  Charmed by her sudden blush and her peeved tone, he laughed. “Jewel.”

  “I’m weird.”

  “You trusted me with your body and with your needs. For a man like me, that’s the hugest turn-on of all.”

  “Can we please talk about something else?”

  But he thought perhaps they were done with discussions altogether. She wasn’t suddenly going to get comfortable with the little kink in her sexuality that from all evidence seemed to have fit so well with his preferences. They’d also established that the key to unlocking his memory wasn’t kisses or caresses or her climaxes.

  Further experimentation in that direction would prove futile, he knew, and frankly he wasn’t sure that either of them had thought the test had a chance in hell of working in the first place.

  Though that damn chemistry kept drawing them together, for now it seemed best to leave it alone to bubble and spit. No stoking it with touches and kisses and just a goddamn glimpse of her face.

  He was leaving soon, and once the financial end of things was wrapped up, he could go with a clear conscience, knowing he’d done his best by her and the situation.

  So why did he feel like a fucking heel? And so fucking dissatisfied?

  “Jewel…” he started, with no idea what he meant to say.

  But her cellphone rang, and she picked it up from the countertop and held it to her ear. Concern crossed her face. “Okay. Sure. As soon as I can,” she said, then ended the call.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  “I need to get to my storage place. Something about damage to my locker. Maybe because of that rain we had overnight?” She looked around the kitchen, then spied her purse and hurried to it. Her cellphone went in, her keys came out. “I’ll just wake Grandma to let her know to keep her ears open for Soul and then—”

  “I can keep my ears open.”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder, her expression surprised. “What?”

  “I can listen for the baby, and Grandma can continue to have her nap undisturbed.” He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, but his lips just kept flapping. “Is Soul expected to wake up soon?”

  “No.”

  “There you go, then. You can run your errand, I can hang here until you return.”

  “Um…”

  “Go,” he said.

  She huffed out a breath and scooped up her purse. “Well, okay. But if Soul wakes up first, tell Grandma. She knows there’s a sippy cup of juice in the fridge and that Cheerios are the preferred after-nap snack. And don’t worry about sticking around if Grandma gets up—”

  “Jewel, go.”

  “All right, all right,” she said, and with a last look back at him, she was gone.

  As if she sensed her mother had left the premises, about three minutes after the front door clicked closed, he heard sounds coming from the nursery. Not crying exactly, but noises made by a baby who was definitely not sleeping.

  Shit.

  Maybe Soul would settle herself back down, he thought. Maybe her grandmother would stir. But maybe good deeds couldn’t go unpunished, because neither happened. Beck considered waking Alison Malone himself, but he then shook his head. The elderly lady wasn’t feeling well.

  “So walk down the hall and check on the baby yourself,” he said aloud. “That’s not so hard.”

  It didn’t exactly feel like the road to the guillotine, but Beck didn’t skip down to the nursery. Once outside its door, he took a quick breath, then popped it open.

  Big brown eyes shifted his way.

  Soul stood on her mattress, her hands gripping the top railing. The dress thing she had on was ballerina pink and the leggings beneath were black. Her impossibly small feet were bare, and he didn’t know how anyone could paint nails so tiny, but the tips of her toes were a sparkly pale blue.

  “Uh, hey,” he said.

  She slapped her palms against the rail, then babbled something incomprehensible.

  “She’ll be back soon,” he said, taking a guess. “Your mom, I mean.”

  “Mom mom mom mom,” the baby repeated.

  “Right.”

  “Mom mom mom mom,” her voice rose, and she bounced on her short legs. “Mom mom mom mom.”

  “Shh,” he said, putting his finger to his mouth. “Grandma’s sleeping.”

  Her brows slammed together. “Mom. Mom mom mom mom mom.”

  Beck moved from his place in the doorway. “Kid,” he said. “Take it easy.”

  As he ventured closer, she pinned him with those big brown eyes.

  “Mom!” she said, loudest yet, and held up her arms.

  “Dad,” he said, pointing to his chest, then felt like an absolute jackass, since he had no intention of doing anything to earn that name other than writing a check.

  “Mom!” Soul screeched again, arms still aimed in his direction.

  “Christ,” Beck muttered, looking around as if someone might suddenly appear to save him. Apparently the child wanted out of the cage of the crib, but no one was showing up to take care of that. Besides him. “Really?” he asked, to be sure.

  “Mom!”

  On a sigh, he stepped closer. He could smell her now, a scent that could only be classified as baby. It was sweet, so hope-to-God she didn’t have a dirty diaper.

  “Listen,” he said, as he scooped her out with a hand under each arm. “Make this easy on me, okay?”

  Though she didn’t seem to take offense, it didn’t look right to have her dangling in the air in front of him, so he brought her closer to his body.

  Her hands latched onto his T-shirt, and she started speaking in gibberish again as he braced her butt with his forearm.

  What the hell should he do with her now?

  When inspiration didn’t strike, he made for the family room where he recalled seeing a basket of toys and books. He set her on the floor in front of it and stepped back toward the couch.

  But then Soul looked up at him, beseeching him with those big eyes, and he found himself si
nking to the rug beside her.

  “You’re a witch, you know that?” he said. “Just like your mother.”

  That made her grin.

  He stared. Four teeth. Two on top, two on the bottom, all of them hardly bigger than grains of rice. An ache expanded in his chest, and he couldn’t breathe around it.

  “You shouldn’t smile like that at strangers,” he said, when his voice could finally work. “Your mama should teach you that.”

  “Mom!” she agreed, then plucked a small book from the toy basket and moved so fast that before he blinked she was in his lap.

  Beck stiffened, but she didn’t appear to notice. Instead she leaned her back against his chest, getting comfortable, and turned the thick cardboard pages of the book, babbling as if she was reading the story out loud.

  At the sensation of her soft weight on him, he couldn’t breathe, talk, or think.

  Dizzy, he sat through the turn of every page and didn’t move until she climbed off him to dig through the toy basket again.

  The time to clamber to his feet was now, he thought, and did so with clumsy speed. Then he backed away from the baby, though his gaze didn’t leave her. Such a pretty creature. So like her mother, with that shiny dark hair and enchanting eyes. It…humbled him, to think he’d had some hand—biologically speaking—in the creation of this tiny, confident little fairy with her sparkly-tipped toes and four amazing teeth.

  Did all babies have teeth so soon, or was she a wunderkind?

  Her fingers closed over a small stuffed animal. A puppy, with long yellow ears and a fuzzy tail. Soul’s torso twisted to catch his eyes again.

  “Dah!” she said, showing it to him. “Dah!”

  It probably wasn’t “dog.” And it sure as heck wasn’t “Dad,” but for a moment he experienced what that might feel like. His child, claiming the relationship. Recognizing who he was to her. Knowing he would move heaven and earth to give her everything she needed to grow strong and smart and sure of the difference between right and wrong.

  Not that he could be that man.

  But…but what if he could?

  What if he could be a family man?

  Beck had no idea where that thought came from and why it didn’t immediately vaporize like a rainbow encountering brimstone. Perhaps because Reed was taking on two young sons. And then Ren and Cilla had said they planned to have children. Though they’d all been raised mostly unsupervised in the same debauched and hedonistic compound as he’d been, they didn’t feel forever unfit for a parent’s role.