Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1)

by Michelle Irwin

  “I was thinkin’ I might take ya home with me,” Beau said after a moment.

  “Huh?”

  “For the fourth of July. I was thinkin’ of taking ya home. Show ya how it’s done proper.”

  “It’s a bit of a hike from here though isn’t it?”

  He chuckled, the sound surrounding me and making me feel like I was at home. “Only eight hours or so.”

  I laughed. “Only.”

  “I’d love to show ya this piece of me if ya’d like?” He pulled away from me and brushed my hair off my face. He looked so young, so innocent and earnest. Saying no would break his heart, so I couldn’t—not that I wanted to.

  “Mmm, yeah, I think I’d like.” I curled back against him.

  For a moment we lay like that, slowly drifting off to the sleep I’d been willing to fight an hour or more earlier. Then I shocked awake. “Will your family be there?”

  “What’s that, darlin’?” Beau mumbled, clearly closer to sleep than I had been.

  “When we go to Georgia . . . will your family be there?”

  “Anyone’d think ya were a’scared a meetin’ ’em,” he murmured against my hair, his voice a sleepy garble.

  Instead of continuing the conversation, I moved closer to him—unwilling to admit how close he was to the truth. I closed my eyes and tried to find some sleep.

  WHEN I woke the next morning, the bed was cold. Empty.

  A gasp escaped me when I saw I was alone. Beau had been in my arms when I’d fallen asleep. Where was he now?

  “Beau?” I called out, thinking maybe he’d headed into the shower. Only there was no water running, and the door stood open. I thought about our night and wondered whether something had changed for him. Although a tiny part of me considered the fact that maybe he’d done a runner in the middle of the night, it just didn’t seem fitting with what I knew about him. True, that wasn’t much, but it was enough.

  Silence was the only reply.

  His phone was gone. The items of clothing that had been scattered around the room—both mine and his—were tidied away. My clothes were on the armchair where our night had started.

  Maybe he had left.

  His boots were gone. Every trace of him was absent. Every single one except the bin in the bathroom filled with torn condom packets and tissues that I knew to contain used condoms.

  I glanced over at the clock and saw I had less than an hour to get ready, pack, and check out of the hotel room. Shit!

  It left me no time to fuck around worrying about Beau. I’d have to work that puzzle out when I could.

  Running around, I threw everything back into my backpack and grabbed out a new outfit. I left my clean clothes on the bed as I raced into the shower, quickly washing my hair and rinsing off my body. As I trailed my soaped-up hands over my body, I couldn’t help but think of Beau’s hands and lips tracing the same path.

  There was still a slight ache between my legs. It wasn’t pain as much as an awareness that things were different. Like I could still feel the fullness and stretching sensation of Beau’s cock rocking within me.

  Where could he have gone? Why did he go without saying goodbye?

  I flicked the water off and grabbed one of the towels we’d used the night before. I patted myself dry and then flicked my hair forward, wrapping it in the towel. After I’d deodorised and moisturised, I ducked my head down again to pull the towel off my hair. As I walked back into the bedroom, I scrunched my hair in the towel to get rid of the last of the moisture.

  “Well, there’s a sight I could certainly get used to.”

  I screamed before I realised it was Beau who’d spoken. He was sitting on the bed next to my clean clothes, watching me with a hungry gaze and a smile on his lips.

  “Shit, Beau, you scared me.” I held the towel in front of my body. Somehow being naked in front of him, in the cold light of morning and while he was fully dressed, felt completely different than it had the night before.

  “Sorry, I didn’t intend to do anythin’ of the sort.”

  “You were gone when I woke up,” I said, trying to fight the accusing tone in my voice. I took a step closer to him but didn’t drop my hold on the towel.

  “Both regrettable and unavoidable, I’m afraid.” He stood and was in front of me in two steps. His hand reached out and clutched the towel. With a gentle tug, he coaxed it from my hold. “Very regrettable, in fact,” he murmured as he traced his knuckle along the now familiar path over the corner of my smile.

  His gaze trailed down my body, slow and steady as if committing every inch to memory.

  “Where’d you go?”

  “I was stayin’ in Daytona Beach too, remember?”

  “Yeah, so?” A second after I’d said it, I realised. “Oh! You had your own hotel room.”

  “Bingo.”

  “I’m sorry that you didn’t get to use it.”

  His eyes met mine and he grinned. “I ain’t.”

  My smile widened and I chuckled. “Well, truthfully, I’m not either. Last night was—” I couldn’t think of a word that was adequate. I dropped my eyes, staring at his boots, and swallowed. “It was everything.”

  “Heh. Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I got coffee. But I didn’t know how ya liked yours.”

  “I don’t usually drink it,” I admitted. “But thank you.”

  “I got a hot chocolate too. And tea.”

  “I’ll have the hot chocolate,” I said before I scrunched my brows. “Wait, tea?”

  “Don’t ya drink tea down under?”

  I glanced over to the container with four cups and chuckled. “Some people do, but I think you’re thinking of the Brits.”

  “I just wanted to make sure ya had what ya needed.”

  “Thank you, Beau. But really, I’ve got everything I wanted right here.” I pressed my hand against his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed.

  He reached out for me, but I stepped away from his hold.

  “Wait up, cowboy, I’ve gotta get dressed or I’ll be heading to check out of the room in nothing but my birthday suit.”

  “Seems a dang shame to have to cover all that up.” His lips lifted as he teased me.

  Knowing that we were running on limited time, I resisted the temptation of his lips, his arms, every part of him, and started to get dressed. Still, I couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. I picked up my sensible cotton undies and slipped them on. As I did, I danced in a little circle, rotating my hips and sashaying as if I were performing a strip tease in reverse.

  Then I reached for my bra, sliding each arm through slowly and pulling the cups over my breasts. Despite being perfectly adept at clasping my own bra, I moved backward until my back was right in front of Beau.

  Realising what I wanted, his fingertips brushed my skin as he grabbed the two ends and clasped the hook-and-eye fasteners.

  “This is way more fun the other way,” he murmured.

  “Well, if you do this now, maybe you’ll be lucky enough to get to do it the other way later.”

  “I’ll be holdin’ ya to that promise.”

  I slipped into a turquoise sundress—one of the few dresses I’d packed for the trip.

  “That dress matches your eyes,” he murmured. “And barely covers your—”

  I pressed my lips to his to silence him. As I did, I grabbed his hands and circled them around my waist. When he deepened the kiss, I guided his palms down over my arse to the point where the hem of the dress flittered against my skin. With the slightest adjustment, his fingertips were underneath the dress and caressing the elastic of my underwear.

  “Oh,” he said, understanding why I was wearing the dress.

  “I’ve got a pair of jeans to slip on before we go, but for now, this works, doesn’t it?”

  He slipped his hand further around, using the hold to pick me up and rub my pussy against his cock.

  “Oh yeah, this works.” His gravelled tone told me that it was a shame I didn’t have the room fo
r another night.

  He kissed me long and hard before placing me back on the floor.

  “I’ve gotta go check out now,” I said as I grabbed the last of my toiletries and did a final check over the room. “Did you want to give me directions to your home town?”

  “Directions?”

  “Yeah, for me to get there. Or have you changed your mind?”

  “Darlin’, it’s an eight-hour drive. If you think I’m letting ya out of my sight for that long when we have so little time left, you’re crazy.”

  “So what’s the plan then?”

  “You’re comin’ with me.”

  I tilted my head to the side.

  “Not scared of a little time alone, are ya?”

  Even though I kind of was, I shook my head. “Of course not.”

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out my bike key, and tossed it to me. “It’s on the back of my truck.”

  My mouth twisted in distaste as I frowned. “You loaded my bike without asking?”

  “I’m sorry, darlin’, I just assumed . . .”

  “You just made my decision for me, you mean.”

  He took a step backward. “I didn’t . . . I mean, it wasn’t like that.”

  “How would you like it if I moved your truck without asking?”

  He frowned but didn’t say anything.

  “Exactly,” I said.

  A smirk slipped across his lips.

  “What?”

  “I just got the image of a lifetime. You. In control of my truck. Your hands on my gearstick.” He groaned. “Now, that’s something I can’t wait to see.”

  “Don’t change the subject to your gearstick.”

  “If I recall correctly, you quite enjoyed my gearstick.”

  “Well, it was a rather firm gearstick,” I said, moving closer to him. My hand came to rest on his groin. True to his words, he was growing hard. “Good thrust.”

  He eyed the bed and reached out his own hand, rubbing across the cotton that covered my pussy. “What time’s checkout?”

  “In about ten minutes,” I said. “So we have to go.”

  “Ten minutes?” He slipped his hand under the waistband of my panties.

  Without thought, I widened my stance.

  Two of his fingers explored my pussy, slipping down over my clit. “Sounds like a challenge.”

  “Speed isn’t really something to aim for when it comes to that,” I teased, trying to remember the reasons I needed to stay strong and get moving. They were scattering more with every passing second. Driven away by his skilful fingers.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said, drawing his fingers back out and lifting them to his lips. Meeting my eye, he sucked on the tips of his fingers and hummed. “That’ll have to do for now.”

  God, it was hot watching him taste me. “Fuck. Do that again and the check-out time can be damned.”

  He laughed. “We really should get on the road if we wanna get back and secure a good spot for the fireworks.”

  “Maybe we should celebrate with a different type of fireworks,” I said, pressing my lips to his.

  “Dang, woman, you’ll be the death of me.”

  My expression fell because he might not have been wrong. At least, walking away was going to be the death of me. I turned away from him and grabbed my bag before he could see my expression. If he did, I was sure he’d do or say anything to try to reassure me that it would be okay.

  It wouldn’t though. After Georgia, I would have to leave. What else could I do?

  AFTER GATHERING ALL my things, we headed down so I could check out. Because I didn’t need to be on my bike, I decided to forgo the jeans under my dress. It was far more fun to tease Beau without them.

  Once I was all checked out of the room, I turned to Beau. “So, considering you denied me the fun of riding my bike up to Georgia, I think the least you can do is let me drive your truck.” I walked backward so I could shoot him my best version of puppy-dog eyes.

  “Uh-uh, sweetheart. Much as the thought of you behind the wheel is hot, no one drives my truck.”

  “No one touches my bike.”

  His brows pinched in confusion. “But ain’t it just a temporary ride?”

  “It was supposed to be. But then I put my blood, sweat, and tears into making it run properly. Now it’s my bike.”

  “Sorry.” He looked genuinely contrite as his mouth twisted to the side in thought. “I didn’t realize.”

  “Well, now you do. And you’ll let me drive your truck to make up for it.”

  “Nice try, darlin’.” He swung his keys around his finger and caught them in his palm before heading off in the direction of the door.

  I had to stride to keep up with his long gait. “Well, at least let me pick the music.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause you’re going to put on more of that country stuff, and I’m not sure I can listen to hours and hours of that.”

  He burst into laughter as we passed through the revolving door to leave the hotel. “That’s the only music in these parts. Especially in my truck. ’Sides, I don’t recall you havin’ any complaints last night.”

  “Well, last night, there were other . . . distractions. If I’m not driving, I’ll have nothing to focus on but the music.”

  “Ya could talk to me.” He winked. “Tell me ’bout yourself.”

  “For eight hours? I’ll run out of things to say. I’m really not that interesting.”

  “Tell ya what, I’ll give ya choice of music until we stop for lunch if ya answer some of my burnin’ questions.”

  “That could get dangerous,” I said. “Maybe you should just unload my bike, and then I won’t need music, distractions, or questions.”

  “No deal on that one. I’m not letting ya out of my sight.”

  I raised my brow and readied my arguments that if I wanted my bike, he’d best give me my damned bike.

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Bad choice of words. If ya absolutely insist on ridin’, of course ya can have your bike, but I don’t think ya really want to insist.”

  Knowing he was right, I offered a small smile. “Maybe I don’t.”

  “And I’d really like to have ya in my truck.” I wasn’t sure if I had imagined the emphasis he put on the word have. He grinned and pulled open the door on his truck.

  Climbing up into the cabin, the desire to drive it raced through me again. I wanted to know how the thing handled. It felt like it was on rails as a passenger; was it as easy from the driver seat?

  When he climbed into the driver seat, it was clear there was no further argument allowed. Deciding to take the music selection into my own hands, I grabbed my phone out and plugged it into the stereo via the USB port.

  Before I could start the music, Beau’s hand came to rest over the screen of my phone. “What if I allow ya to choose not to answer anything ya don’t wanna?”

  “I guess that might be okay. But you have to answer my questions too.”

  “You got yourself a deal.” He started the truck and pulled away from the curb as I selected the most heavy metal, filthy playlist I had.

  “What is this?” he complained before the band had even hit the first chorus. He tilted his head as though the music were causing him pain. “This ain’t even music.”

  I put on the most innocent expression I could. “What do you mean?”

  “This. It ain’t music. It’s just noise. You can’t even understand what he’s sayin’.”

  “It’s my pump-up playlist.”

  “Pumping up for what though? Murder? Satanic rituals?”

  It was impossible not to laugh. I’d put that playlist on with the intention of getting a reaction, but it was funnier than I’d imagined it would be. The way Beau’s nose curled up was too cute. It was as though he expected the music to physically reach through the speakers to assault him. “You should see your face right now. Hang on, I’ll put my favourite list on.”

  The list I picked was the same one
I’d played when I arrived at Eden’s weeks earlier. Loud and emotional, but with understandable lyrics.

  “That’s a little better, but you really prefer this to mine?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll listen to a bit of everything. Music speaks to my soul. Given the right playlist, I can do just about anything.”

  His gaze drifted between me, the rear-view mirror, and the road. “What ya were playin’ before talks to souls all right: the ones already in hell.”

  “You’re so funny.”

  We were both quiet for a moment, and I settled into the music, singing along to the lyrics. Beau’s lip twitched as he watched me, but he wisely kept his mouth shut on my inability to carry a tune. It wasn’t like I didn’t know I was tone-deaf. It wasn’t like it mattered really. I’d never wanted to be a singer; I knew my limits. He earned a few brownie points for not asking me to stop though. Not like Brock, who would usually try to reach across the back seat to shove his hand against my mouth or pinch my lips to stop my singing.

  My mood fell at the thought of my brother, and my whole family. I was torn between being excited to be heading back home to see them in a few days, and wanting to prolong this thing with Beau, whatever it was, as long as possible. To fight off the falling mood, I turned the music up a little more.

  “So, what’s it get ya pumped up for?” he asked, barely audible over the music.

  I turned the music down again. “Huh?’

  “The noise list. Ya said it’s your pump-up music. What’s it get ya pumped up for?”

  “Oh! All sorts of things. A run. A test. And I always listen to it when I’m getting ready for a race.”

  “A race?” He glanced at me with piqued interest.

  Shit. I’d been so into the moment that I’d completely forgotten how little I’d actually told him. Fuck it, it’s balls-to-the-wall time now, I guess.

  “Yeah. That’s what I do.”

  His eyes trailed my body. “Like running?”

  “Ha! No. I run for fun, but a professional track and field athlete, I am not.”

  “But not bikes?” he asked, no doubt recalling our conversation at the Fun Spot.