Poppy was growing weary of it. And confused. What was Beck looking to get out of all this? He was heading back to Seattle right after his parents’ wedding, and since that was happening tomorrow, she couldn’t figure out his angle.
Unless he meant it?
No, she shook her head as she unlocked her apartment and stepped inside. She’d bruised his ego and this was his way of assuaging his hurt feelings. She ignored the little voice that asked if anyone in their right mind would do what he’d done for two months without a break.
She’d barely closed the door behind her when her phone rang. Her feet hurt. She slipped off her shoes before answering. She already knew it would be Wynn making sure she’d arrived home safely. She’d tell him to ask his new BFF Beck about her date instead, seeing as he’d been there for the whole thing.
She didn’t know why Wynn had taken Beck’s side in all this, but there was no doubt he had. The first time Beck had shown up at her rendezvous point, acting as her date, she’d chalked it up to coincidence. He’d seen her profile picture and acted accordingly. But when he’d crashed a date with a stranger, not one, but two, three and four times? Dates he could not have known about since she hadn’t told anyone except Wynn, the betrayal was undeniable. The little traitor.
There was also the fact that when asked, Wynn readily admitted his involvement. His only response to her repeated inquiries about why was that he thought he was helping her.
Well, she had a thing or two to say about that. Her phone rang again and she dug it out of her purse and answered it without checking the screen. Wynn needed to understand that as her best friend, he should not be assisting her nemesis in his nefarious schemes.
“Seriously, Wynn. I’ve had enough. You and—”
“It’s not Wynn.”
She almost dropped the phone. “Beck.” She’d recognize his voice anywhere. Had, in fact, listened to it all the way home as he’d insisted on walking her back. Nerves made her mouth suddenly dry. She swallowed and parroted his name again because it was easier than considering why her body had suddenly gotten all warm.
It was silly. He’d only left her building a few minutes ago when she’d told him he was not welcome to come in for a nightcap. Her body had been totally fine then, no sign of need or overwhelming desire to rip off his clothes and have her way with him. Or almost no sign.
“I’m downstairs.” She realized her phone hadn’t been ringing with an incoming call. It had been the front buzzer she’d programmed to come through her phone. “I want to come up.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She hung up.
Her phone rang again. And again. She stared at the screen until it stopped and beat back the swell of disappointment when it didn’t start back up immediately. She didn’t want him to call back.
The phone jingled again, her text tone this time.
I’ve got all night
She swallowed, fingers flying over the screen.
Good for you. Hope you find the sidewalk comfy.
She’d been finding her decision to excise him from her life increasingly difficult to rationalize the last few weeks. When one of her dates had gotten handsy, Beck had scared him off and taken her somewhere else to eat. When another one had ditched her with the bill, Beck had stepped in to pay. She hadn’t let him, but he’d tried.
If the memory of him so casually dropping her hadn’t been fresh, Poppy didn’t think she would have been able to maintain her stance.
Even so, she found it increasingly difficult not to notice that he’d changed. Not a huge change, but a change nonetheless.
The phone rang again. She was grateful for the interruption, not wanting to pursue that dangerous idea. The one that swept over her late at night when she wondered if maybe Beck did want something more than just a casual fling. The one where he got down on one knee and she took his name because Lefebvre was a good name and they all lived happily ever after. “Yes?”
“I’m not leaving. Buzz me up.”
She thought about it. What could he do from down there? Press the button the rest of the night? Or buzz someone else who would let him in. And he’d be up here anyway, only she’d have no chance to prepare herself.
“You have five minutes,” she said and hit the button.
She double-checked to make sure her front door was locked. If he thought he was going to stride in without a fight, he was wrong. She rolled her shoulders back and twisted her neck like a prize-fighter preparing for a championship bout.
At least she was still in her date clothes: a skintight black dress, so fitted that it was a good thing she’d only had salad for dinner, and a collarless, cropped leather jacket. She straightened her skirt and wondered if she should slip her black peep toe heels back on. Her feet screamed they were willing to disown her if she tried, and she decided it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Beck still towered over her.
She tossed her phone onto the small console table beside her door. It missed the little bowl she had for it, clanging against the edge and making the keys inside rattle. The vase of flowers beside it shook, too, one petal drifting to the top of the table.
Poppy ignored the mess. Who cared about a fallen flower petal? Her nerves were threatening to leap out of her skin, did when the knock came. She looked through the peephole. Her body jerked when she saw him standing there, waiting. All calm and strong and so much of what she wanted.
Stupid raging hormones.
He knocked again and her stomach dipped. He was leaving town soon. She’d been trying not to focus on that, but her breath caught and did its best to choke her as the truth set in.
After his parents’ wedding tomorrow night, once the last toast was made, the last glass clinked, the last kiss shared, she’d never see him again. He’d go back to Seattle to his gorgeous hotels, his stylish city life and she could move on.
Her lungs squeezed again and she shut her eyes. But she’d never see him again. Never hear that teasing tone when he tried to rile her up, experience the gentleness of his large hands or see that look in his eyes that made her feel as if there was no one in the room but them.
“Poppy? Come on. I need to see you.”
She peeked through the peephole again. She didn’t want to want him.
“Poppy, please.”
There was a longing note to his voice that matched the expression on his face. She swallowed. She shouldn’t do this. She knew better. Nothing had changed and those late-night fantasies were just that: fantasies. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as much of a playboy as she’d thought, but he wasn’t looking to become husband material. And that’s what she wanted. She watched her hands flip the dead bolt and turn the knob. She was two parts numb, three parts on edge.
“Hi.” He smiled, stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“Hi.” She would explain this was not a good idea. That it was best they shake hands and go on with their lives as though everything during Jamie’s wedding had never happened.
She didn’t get a single word out before he yanked her to him and kissed her. Their mouths slammed together, hot and hungry. His hands slid beneath her jacket, stroking the soft material of her dress. A low growl of approval rumbled from him. She shivered in anticipation.
“Beck.”
“What?” His mouth had worked its way down her neck, nibbling and biting and leaving a trail of the most delicious tingles in its wake. Really, it was a good thing she left the shoes off. She was pretty unsteady as it was.
“We shouldn’t.”
“We should.” He resumed kissing her.
She tried to open her mouth to tell him he was wrong. Cooler heads must prevail. She hadn’t let him up here for this. But she couldn’t.
Her body responded, clinging and binding herself to him. The months apart had been long, m
ade worse since he’d been so close for the last two of them. Being with him but never acting on those needs that accosted her every morning had been torturous.
This was their last night.
Maybe their last chance. She shrugged the thought away. No, this wasn’t about chances, this was about closure. This could be her closure. One fantastic goodbye before he left, and then she would take the necessary steps to move forward in her life.
“This doesn’t change anything.” She felt compelled to tell him, to inform him she wouldn’t be chasing after him or expecting a relationship.
“Yes, it does.”
She was afraid to believe. She opened her mouth to explain it was okay, she accepted what he had to offer. But all the words and thoughts got twisted up when he stripped off her jacket, pulled down the neck of her dress and ran a finger along the curve of her bra.
Her skin pebbled when he yanked the lace out of the way and replaced it with his mouth. His beard abraded the soft skin, but she didn’t care. The wet warmth of his mouth was enough to make her forgive just about anything. She ran her fingers through his thick hair, enjoying the extra length that allowed her to twist and tug.
“Bedroom,” she told him when he scowled, annoyed at the interruption of his exploration. “I’m not a teenager anymore.”
He chuckled and let her drag him down the hall. He kissed her onto the bed and lowered himself, covering her with his bulk.
Every part of her was in contact with him. Chests pressed together, legs tangled up, arms wrapped around, fingers reaching and touching, mouths fused.
“God, I’ve missed you.”
Poppy pulled her head back. “It hasn’t been that long.”
“Trust me, it’s seemed like a very long time.” He bent his head and nipped at her neck. “And there are a million things I want to do to you with my mouth, but none of them involve talking.”
“Dirty.” She sighed and moaned as his tongue licked at a particularly sensitive spot. “Oh, that’s nice. I like that a lot.”
Her fingers scrabbled over his back, tugging at his shirt until it was free of his jeans, pulling it up over his head and flinging it to the far corner of her bedroom so her hands were blissfully free to run up and down his bare skin.
It was so smooth, as if he treated it with lotion and scrubs on a regular basis, but Beck would never be caught dead doing something so girlie. She stroked up and down, letting her hands dip lower each time until they were fully buried beneath his jeans.
Beck was busy rolling the arms of the sexy little dress off her shoulders and down her body, and dispensing with the bra with a practiced flick. The room was dim, but she saw his face by the lights sneaking in around the blinds. The hunger and possessiveness there shocked her. She brushed it away. It didn’t mean anything. He was a guy about to get into her pants—or in her case, dress—there was nothing more to it.
She inhaled sharply when he reverently stroked her bared stomach and bent his head to taste. The contrast of his bristly beard and soft tongue made a wildness build inside her.
She might not be blessed in the curves department, but she’d never know it from the way Beck carefully and thoroughly investigated every inch of her body. She gasped when his fingers closed over her breast, arched her back when he rolled the nipple between his thumb and finger.
Her dress was still around her waist and he’d only lost his shirt, but Poppy wasn’t sure how much more she could stand. Beck, though, seemed to have other ideas.
“No,” he said when she tried to hurry him along by moving her hand to the front of his jeans to unbutton them. “I’m not rushing this.”
“Beck.” It was half whine, half demand.
He shushed her with a hard kiss on her mouth and two soft ones on either side of her neck. “Just let me love you.”
Her heart shook before she reminded herself he hadn’t said he loved her. It was a euphemism for the physical. And the physical was very nice, the way his fingers were slowly wiggling her dress over her hips and down her legs was very nice indeed.
She attempted to help with the disrobing, lifting her hips and drawing her knees up, but Beck stilled her with a soft hand. “No, let me.” She lay back while he murmured words of endearment and kissed each new band of skin as he exposed it.
“Now.” She moaned when she couldn’t take any more. “I want you now.”
He smiled between little bites on her neck. His teeth nipped into her skin and made her shudder. She moaned again when his hand finally made its way below the waistband and under the elastic of her underwear. High-cut, lacy, black underwear. Thankfully, she hadn’t pulled a Bridget Jones and worn a pair of gigantic granny panties in nude.
She reached for the condoms in her nightstand while he ripped off his pants and boxers. She’d stopped at the drugstore a few weeks ago, telling herself it was being smart in case one of her dates actually went somewhere, but she knew now it had been for this moment. For Beck. She helped him roll it on. She didn’t care anymore what the future held. She just wanted this and him. Whatever he gave her would be enough.
He kissed her again, pressing her back into the pillows. She pressed her palms into his back and let them slide across his shoulders, his muscles shifted as he levered himself up. She wanted him deep inside her and sighed when he fit himself to her, fit their bodies together, and did just that.
His gaze was hot and the friction between their bodies grew as he stroked in and out. She wanted to touch and kiss him everywhere, but she settled for bringing her knees up to take him in even further and gripping his shoulders.
She told herself it was enough. It had to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BECK AWOKE SMUG and satisfied. The feel and taste of Poppy lingered on him exactly how he wanted it. Last night had been incredible. She’d been willing and open. He was certain she understood him now. He reached out a hand, expecting her to still be at his side, but found an empty expanse of sheet instead. The spot was cool, as if she hadn’t been there for a while.
“Red?” he called out. The apartment was silent. His only response was the low hum of traffic on the street below and a horn. Her clothes had disappeared. His were neatly folded on top of the dresser. Along with the quiet, they told him what he already sensed. She was up and gone, leaving behind only the scent of lavender on the pillow and coffee in the air. Coffee. He sniffed and called out again. “Poppy? You here?”
No answer. But when he glanced at the time on his phone and saw it was already past nine, he wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t run out on him, she was working. She had a lot to do for the wedding today. For that matter, so did he.
He climbed out of bed, hoping the coffee wasn’t a teaser, a lingering trace from a pot Poppy had made for herself earlier, because he could use a cup or twelve.
When he padded into the kitchen, he found a fresh pot and a cup sitting next to it. He grinned as he filled it up. What a woman.
After grabbing a quick shower and getting dressed, Beck noticed that there was a set of keys on the kitchen counter and a note that said to lock the door and return the keys to either her or Wynn. As if he was ever giving these keys back. He tossed them in the air, caught them, then let himself out and dialed Poppy’s number.
“Yes?” It was a harried tone, telling Beck although he hadn’t been rushing around, she had.
“Morning, Red.”
“What do you want, Beck?” He didn’t get offended. She was probably juggling caterers and florists and making sure the space for the band was acceptable. He’d double-checked everything at the hotel yesterday, but Poppy would still want to go over it herself.
“Thanks for the coffee.” He’d finished his first cup while still in the shower. “Your place is all locked up.”
“Great, just find Wynn and give the keys to him. Anything else?
”
“Isn’t a man supposed to call the next morning?”
“Beck,” she started and then sighed. Some of his good mood ebbed.
The sounds of activity carried through the phone. Beck was aware her responsibilities for the day were massive, but that didn’t explain her terseness. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” But she didn’t sound fine, and Beck knew when the word was used in that abrupt tone it meant nothing was fine at all.
“You sure? Is there something I can do to help?”
“Nothing.”
She sighed loudly. One of those sighs that announced she was tired of standing around talking about nothing.
The rest of Beck’s good mood disappeared. “Is there a problem? I know you had a good time last night. Three good times in fact.”
The keys pressed against his thigh as he walked, but he didn’t move them. They were his badge of honor, a promise he’d made even if she didn’t want to hear it. Those keys were staying right where they were and if she thought he was giving them back, she was in for a long wait.
“I’m busy. I told you.”
“So let me help you.”
A small pause. “Why would I do that?”
“Because we’re a team.” Why did she think? Did she believe he went around foisting himself on any unsuspecting woman? “Now, let me help you, damn it.”
“Beck, last night was good.”
“I think three times deserves a great,” he insisted, knowing it probably sounded like he was digging for a compliment. He didn’t care. It had been great and she was going to admit it.
“Fine. Last night was great, but it didn’t change anything.”
A chill settled over his skin despite the bright sunlight. It was one of those dazzling October days that tricked a person into thinking summer wasn’t really gone but had only been in hiding for a few weeks. “What does that mean?”
Not Another Wedding Page 25