“We did,” Doris said, with another bright smile. “But we’re going for a second look today because I contacted the curator and told her about my Aunt Ginny’s jewelry set. Family lore says she was a favorite of Nicky’s, and I have a photo of the pieces he gave her that I want the woman to look over.”
The old lady frowned now, and turned to Alison Malone. “I only wish—”
“There, there,” the other senior said to her friend, patting her shoulder. “You’ll recall where you put them. Any minute. They’ve only been misplaced a couple of weeks.”
“You saw the photo, didn’t you Jewel?” Doris said, still appearing anxious. “They looked authentic to you.”
“They did. Authentic and in a lovely Art Deco style. I can’t wait to see them in person.”
“I will find them,” she muttered to herself, then addressed the group. “Getting old is very annoying.”
With a hand at her elbow, her grandson steered her toward the passenger side of the Caddie. “Let’s get going, Granny. Your mood will improve once we get on the road.”
“Yes.” The old lady let herself be helped into the car. “A look at sparklies and then lunch afterward.”
Next, Gavin helped the other grandma get into the back seat. Then he strode over to Jewel and reached for Soul.
Beck’s spine snapped straight.
“Where’s he think he’s going with her?” he barked.
Jewel gave Beck a look and then kissed her daughter as she handed the baby to the other man. “Grandma’s taking Soul for a few hours. Gavin’s playing chauffeur.”
Doris had her window down. “My grandson’s car is in for repairs, so he’s borrowing mine.”
“Which means I have the pleasure of ferrying you lovely ladies around.” The blond man inserted Soul into the waiting car seat beside Grandma Malone, and Beck told himself he wasn’t pissed at how deftly the other guy managed the task.
Then Gavin paused and looked at Jewel. “You’re sure you don’t want me to come back and help you move out of your storage unit? You’re in Sixteen now and are moving to…”
“Thirty-two. It’s behind a security gate which makes it more expensive to rent and more of a pain to access, but there you go.” She shrugged.
“I can meet you in an hour.”
“No, no,” Jewel said. “I’m sure you have showings to attend today.”
“Is that what they’re calling the Santa Anita racetrack now?” Doris asked slyly.
“Granny…” Gavin ran his finger around the collar of his perfectly ironed polo shirt.
“You like to play the ponies?” Beck asked, enjoying the other man’s obvious discomfort. He might look like a saint, but that he gambled on horse races was proof he had vices like the rest of mankind.
“Now and then,” the pseudo-saint murmured. His gaze cut to Jewel again. “Are you certain—”
“She’s positive she doesn’t need your help,” Beck put in. Stepping over, he slung an arm around her slender shoulders and ignored how they stiffened. “I’ll provide all the assistance she needs.”
After a moment, the other man nodded and then hurried to slide behind the wheel. He didn’t waste time before reversing into the street as the grandmothers and Jewel exchanged cheerful goodbyes.
Beck didn’t feel cheery in the least as he watched the car recede in the distance and Jewel slipped from beneath his arm. Any moment now she would ask him his purpose in visiting and…he didn’t have a damn clue.
A little chill drifted through the air, and he sent her a sidelong glance. She had crossed her arms over her breasts and was regarding him like he was something she should scrape off the bottom of her shoe.
His defenses instantly sprang up. What had he done to piss her off? But instead of leading with an attack, he decided to try to drum up some charm. With effort, he channeled that smooth bastard Payne Colson and pasted on what he hoped was a pleasant smile. “Did you enjoy yourself at the housewarming yesterday?”
“I did.” She responded. So polite. “I love that house. I think Ren and Cilla will be very happy there.”
“Yeah. Me, too.” He hesitated, searching for something else banal to say. “I liked that dress you had on. You looked…well, you know what you do to me in whatever you’re wearing.”
Uh-oh. He could tell that was wrong by the way her brows slammed together. Too personal? Too…sexual? Shit, there was a damn minefield between them, and he didn’t know how to negotiate it.
He didn’t remember how to negotiate anything with her, which just made his every step into a misstep. Fuck his shredded memory!
“And Soul…”
“What about her?”
He wanted to say that thoughts of the kid—that he had a kid, that his kid was that particular kid with her four mini-teeth and her duck-bill wave—were forever churning in his gut and making it impossible for him to find his balance. Instead, he gestured to the top of his head. “That hair thing with the ribbon. Cute.”
Jewel’s face broke into a smile so sunny he felt it like a blast of heat. “It was the first time I could do that. It’s finally grown long enough.”
“It’s pretty, her hair. You should never cut it.”
“Never?” She was still smiling.
“I don’t know. Probably not, if it’s as lovely as yours.”
“Oh.” She put a hand to her own shiny strands, clearly self-conscious.
“Can I ask you something?”
Going wary, her eyes widened. “Um…maybe.”
“What about those teeth? Do all babies have that many, or is she a prodigy or something?”
Jewel stared, then laughed. “Some babies have more at this age, some less.”
“Well, I think Soul’s four are perfect. More than perfect. Plus, she can read, you know.”
Jewel tilted her head. “What makes you say that?”
“Saw it with my own two eyes the other day. She crawled right into my lap with a book, Train Town, I think it was titled, and read it aloud to me.”
“You understood her?” she asked, expression amused.
“Every word.” Beck didn’t crack a smile. “Her diction is perfect, just like her teeth. You must be very proud of her.”
“I am. She’s a bright, easy-to-keep-happy little girl. And very friendly.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
Jewel cleared her throat. “Then why didn’t you say ‘Hi’ to her, to us, yesterday?”
Because he could fucking never be that perfect little friendly girl’s daddy, and he didn’t want anyone—including himself—starting to think so.
“There were other people to talk to,” he said, pushing away the question with his hand.
“But—”
“And you seemed to find plenty of conversation anyway.” He thought of her in a huddle with Walsh and Reed and recalled the part of their exchange that had drifted to his ears. “By the way, thanks for telling my brothers I’m going to fulfill my financial obligations.” That might have come out sounding slightly bitter.
But it annoyed him that they’d felt they had to check with her, that they wouldn’t assume he’d do the right thing by his daughter. And he was perversely glad about it too, because it meant they’d look out for Soul and for Jewel when he was gone. And then he was angry about that, about leaving—
No. He wasn’t angry about leaving.
Leaving was the plan. Wandering the world and writing about it was what he did.
“Your brothers were just being nice, you know,” she said quietly.
“I do know it. But did you really have to kiss them and let Soul get all pals-y with them too?”
She stared at him as if he was nuts.
Yeah, he was being an asshole, jealous knucklehead and it was ridiculous and he should march himself back to the compound where he could soak his head in the pool for half an hour. After that, he should pack his bags and take the first plane to Anchorage, leaving behind everything that was messing with him in order to re
turn to his familiar, nomadic life, as emotionally stunted as it might have made him.
Emotionally stunted. He stared up at the sky, silently repeating a litany of curse words. How he hated the fact that he was suddenly becoming Mr. Self-Awareness.
Beck before the head injury he would never have been bothered by the fact that he’d been unreachable, unapproachable, and generally unreliable in regards to his family for the last fifteen years. Longer. But now…
Fuck that rock and those rapids.
Or maybe it was fatherhood that was turning him into a pussy.
No, Soul wasn’t to blame for anything.
It was that rock and those rapids and the whole damn Nile trip that he’d dreaded as he’d stepped onto the plane at LAX. He remembered the weight of that dread, the distinct feeling that he should turn right around and—
“Anything else?” Jewel asked now, an edge to her voice. “I have things I need to do today.”
Her tone and that reference to the things she needed “to do” instantly derailed his thoughts.
“Yeah, about your plans for today…” Steam might have been coming out of his ears.
One of her brows lifted. “Yes?”
He pinned her with his stare. “You didn’t think you should share that your storage unit was tampered with?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulders. “You weren’t here when I got back that day. At the housewarming, you didn’t speak to me.”
Who cared that she was right? He stepped up so they were toe-to-toe, close enough so he could see the flush of temper on her cheeks and draw her perfume into his lungs. “Maybe you could still ask for assistance in figuring out exactly why someone was trying to get your stuff. Or, at the very least, request another pair of hands to help you move.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” she said, in a deceptively offhand manner. “I guess I could call Walsh or Reed right now.”
Zing. A sharp blade right to Beck’s center. His vision turned red, and he put his hands on her shoulders. “Why are you doing this to me?” he demanded.
“Why did you come over here?” she countered, stepping into him until there wasn’t room for a credit card between their bodies. Or breath. “Can you answer me that?”
Of course he could. There had never really been any question, any doubt whatsoever. “Because, damn it, I want you,” he said. “I want this.”
And then he slammed his mouth onto hers.
Chapter 9
Dizzied by the hard, heated kiss, Jewel felt Beck’s arm slide around the small of her back—a bar of muscled strength—to hitch her even closer. She plastered herself to him, mindful of the delicious thickness that pressed against her lower belly. Already on fire, she tilted her hips and ground herself against the bulge, against the place where her pulse thrummed with instant, insistent desire. His big hand splayed across her butt, holding her there but now constricting her movement.
She whimpered at the back of her throat, but inside, her libido was screaming, Yes! in exuberant welcome. This was what her body had missed. This was what her body craved.
He shoved his tongue into her mouth, not even pretending to coax her, assuming already that she would accept what he wanted her to accept.
Her nipples went hard, and she sucked on the slick intrusion, causing him to grunt and his fingers to tighten on her ass. She twined one leg around his calf as he continued the greedy kiss.
When he lifted his mouth, she heaved in air but could only clutch at his shoulders as his lips moved down her neck. Stubble rasped her skin, and she shivered at the abrasion. Moaning, she angled her head to allow him better access, and then he scraped the edge of his teeth along her throat to her shoulder. He kissed his way to the strap of her camisole then slid his tongue beneath it to taste her skin.
Her entire body shuddered, and yet still he held her movement in check with that implacable hand. She sifted her fingers in his hair and tried yanking his mouth back to hers.
Instead, his head came up, and he stared into her eyes. “Who leads the way?” he asked, his voice low.
Oh, God. Her inner muscles clenched and warm dampness flowed. “Beck…” she whispered. “You make me so…”
“Hot. Wet.” His hand slid down the back of her jeans and beneath her panties to cup one bare cheek in his hard palm. He smiled, a slash of sly white. “Accommodating.”
She frowned, and for a brief moment wondered if she should rebel against the term and exhibit her willpower by pulling away from him. But no, exercising her will was overrated when it came to Beck and sex.
His direction, his desires only made the building pleasure inside her coil tighter. Only made the final release more prolonged and spectacular. Fireworks.
“Kiss me?” she asked, tracing his mouth with the soft pads of her fingers, enjoying the tickle of his short whiskers. No demand now, but feminine entreaty.
As she had learned before, being his supplicant had its own rewards.
His expression softened. “That’s the way,” he whispered and moved his lips to her ear. “I like when you ask me for what you want just like that. Sweet. Soft.”
“And will you give it to me then?”
“If I feel like it.” He bit her lobe, and her skin flashed fire.
Then he laughed, the dark, low chuckle further electrifying her.
Now she had to have his lips on hers. “Please,” she moaned. “Please kiss me.”
“I—” Then his head jerked up, and he slid his hand from her pants. “Let’s not put on a show for the postal service.”
Coming awake to her surroundings, Jewel blinked. “What?”
She looked about, to her chagrin noting they still stood in her grandmother’s driveway, under blue sky and revealing sunshine. And the little red, white, and blue vehicle with USPS on the side was indeed tootling their way.
She stared at Beck. “What are we doing?” How had she got herself into another compromising position with him? Where were her scruples, her sense, her damn dignity?
Instead of answering, he took her hand and towed her to the front door. Once inside, he kicked it shut with his foot and pressed her back against it, crowding her again, a hand flattened on the wood on either side of her head.
At this sign of dominance, her head started spinning again and her body softened all over. He was her kryptonite, she thought, the one thing she was powerless against.
“Hey, don’t look so panicked,” he said now. “We don’t have to—”
“But if we do, will it once and for all satisfy this maddening, vexing, exasperating, unrelenting…” What was the word?
“Hunger?”
Nodding, she closed her eyes.
“Probably not, sugar.”
Resigned to that, she nodded again. They stood together, not speaking, and as she felt him breathe against her, his chest brushing hers with each deliberate inhale, she yearned, craved, actually hurt for more of his touch. Her breasts ached and so did the place between her legs, the emptiness there needing to be filled.
By Beck.
“Please kiss me,” she heard herself whisper, and opened her eyes.
He tipped up her chin to look into her eyes. “If we start kissing again, you know where that will lead,” he said.
“Now, to my bedroom,” she said. “But ultimately…nowhere.” Saying it aloud seemed to calm her raucous nerves. She felt…fatalistic about the whole thing. Of course they were going to end up in bed together—maybe once, maybe for a short while if they could find a way to manage that—and then he’d walk away from her again.
“Jewel.” He framed her face with his hands, his expression concerned. “If this is wrong for you…I’m definitely not going there. As a matter of fact—” Lifting both arms, palms out, he took a step back.
She fisted her hand in his shirt, preventing further retreat. While they both might get off on him controlling her body, she knew her own mind. “Take me to bed, Beck.”
He studied her face for a long moment, th
en gave a slight nod. Next, his eyes narrowed and his demeanor changed, his expression going intense, all the muscles of his body seeming to harden before her eyes. “Maybe you can think of another way to make that request.”
At the casual-but-cool tone, her stomach dipped, then her desire rocketed, softening her knees. Jewel licked her lips and saw that he followed the movement with his gaze. “Please, Beck,” she said, her voice throaty. “Please touch me. Please do…things to me.”
Her heart beat so hard he had to hear it. Maybe that’s why he smiled. Maybe that’s why he wrapped his hand with her hair and tugged her head back so his mouth could touch hers. “Time for your bedroom.”
She began walking there with quick, short steps, her breath rushing in and out in a near-panic rhythm.
You’re afraid he’ll change his mind before he gives you what you need, a voice inside her whispered.
Then she was in her room, with the four-poster queen bed covered by the ivory bedspread in the old-fashioned candle-wick design. The trinkets-covered bulletin board and the silly posters of her youth were gone from the walls, but she was suddenly, excruciatingly aware that she’d lain awake in that same bed on probably those same sheets and thought of teenage Beck in some vaguely salacious ways.
She glanced at him, only to see he wasn’t looking around the space.
He was looking at her.
That focus was something she remembered very, very well. It had never ceased to fascinate and seduce her. When he watched her like that, it filled some vital need inside her to know that he considered her worth his effort.
That her responses and her pleasure were worth his time and attention.
Her limbs felt heavy and clumsy as she headed toward the bed to draw back the covers.
“Don’t move,” he said, and let the bedroom door shut behind him with a distinct click. “Stay right where you are.”
Jewel froze, and he came up behind her, sweeping her hair to one side to brush his lips against her nape. “Did we do this before?” he asked. “This game where you hold still and don’t speak?”
She nodded, feeling her heart float up to her throat. It beat there, making her incapable of sound.
Love Me Two Times (Rock Royalty Book 8) Page 13