Bellamy and the Brute

by Alicia Michaels

  “You’re good at that,” I murmured, reaching up to feel his handiwork. Not a strand had escaped the band.

  Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me back against him, lowering his head until his lips brushed the side of my neck.

  “What? This?” he murmured, kissing his way down to my shoulder.

  “Hmm, that too,” I whispered, placing my hand over his where it rested against my belly.

  If the shortness of his breath as he continued kissing his way up until he nibbled on my earlobe was any indication, he wasn’t as cool about this as I’d thought. His free hand shook as he raised it to my chin, angling my head to the side so he could kiss me.

  Heat flared between us when our lips met, and Tate groaned against my mouth when my tongue met his. I turned in his arms without breaking our kiss, standing on tiptoe to wrap my arms around his neck. Tate’s hands came up to my shoulders, skimming down my arms, then back up, stroking my neck, then my jaw as he cupped my face and pressed me back against the sink.

  I forgot that I was naked except for a towel… at least, I did until a knock sounded at the door, prompting Tate to tear his lips from mine with a ragged sigh. His lips were a bit red from the pressure of mine, and his chest heaved as he breathed as if struggling to pull in air.

  Gripping my towel, I made sure it stayed up over my chest as Tate pulled away. “Food’s here,” I whispered, lowering my eyes.

  Nodding, he took a step away from me. “I got it. You better hurry and shower before the hot water runs out.”

  Realizing that steam now drifted from inside the bathroom where I’d left the shower running, I took a step toward it, putting more distance between us.

  “I won’t be long.”

  Leaning in toward me, he kissed me one more time, hurriedly, before turning away to answer the knock. I stepped back into the bathroom and closed the door. My hands shook as I removed the towel and quickly finished preparing to get in the shower. The hot water stung my skin, but I only turned it down a bit, needing the heat to relax my tense muscles. After what had just happened between Tate and me, I felt as if I were made of a bundle of nerves—the endings of which all lay on the surface of my skin.

  I took longer than I’d planned in the shower, not leaving until the trembling stopped and I felt more in control of my limbs. When I finally emerged, Tate sat at the small table near the window with our dinner spread out on the surface.

  “Smells good,” I said, dropping my dirty clothes inside my bag before joining him.

  “It’s not bad,” he replied before taking another bite of the burger he’d begun demolishing the second he got the wrapper off. His voice had been strained, making me wonder if he might still be thinking about what had just happened, or what it might have led to if our food hadn’t been delivered. Yet, he seemed content to concentrate on eating for now, so I followed his lead. Maybe eating would soothe my stomach, which experienced both the flutter of butterflies and the twisting of hunger.

  I opened a few ketchup packets for my fries, and then dug in, sighing with contentment as my stomach calmed a bit.

  “Did you call your dad?” he asked.

  “I did before we left the house,” I replied between bites. “I’ll call again in the morning, then one more time once we get back to your house, so he can pick me up.”

  Glancing up at me, he frowned. “You didn’t have to come, you know. I told you, I would have been fine on my own.”

  Shrugging, I took a sip of my soda. “I wasn’t going to let you come by yourself. We’re in this together, remember?”

  “Sure,” he said. “But I don’t like lying to your dad. The guy likes me, and I want to keep it that way.”

  Pausing with burger in hand, I gave him a half smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’m the one lying, not you. It makes me feel terrible, but he’s indicated that the thought of me seeing ghosts bothers him. He has enough to worry about without me adding to it. Well, more than I already have, anyway. Me bringing home a guy I’m dating probably stresses him out.”

  Tate chewed and swallowed the last of his burger, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “He’s not used to you bringing boys around?”

  I snorted. “No, because I’ve never done it before.”

  He gaped at me in openmouthed shock. “Are you joking?”

  “Nope. I’ve never really dated anyone… not seriously enough to bring them home, anyway. A few first dates and group dates… but nothing like you and me.”

  Tate shook his head in disbelief. “I have a hard time believing that. Look at you. You’re gorgeous… smart… and you’re cool as hell. How is it that you’ve been single all this time?”

  Sighing, I set my burger down and leaned back in the chair. Folding my hands in my lap, I avoided his stare, embarrassed. “I don’t know.”

  For a moment, he didn’t respond, but I could feel his gaze on my face, searching. Now I was feeling uneasy again, but not in the same way as before. It was embarrassing, having reached seventeen without really experiencing much in regards to dating. Especially given the reason why—something I didn’t really like to discuss out loud. The sound of his chair sliding back on the carpet told me he had stood, and then he was there, crouching in front of my chair so I was forced to look at him.

  “I don’t believe you,” he murmured. “I think you do know. It’s okay if you don’t want to say… I didn’t mean anything by that.”

  He rested his hands in my lap, enveloping mine in his. I lifted my head to meet his gaze. What had I been thinking to be embarrassed to talk to him about this? We had been very honest with each other up until now—and in the case of Tate, giving voice to the horrible things he’d done. If he could trust me with those parts of himself, the parts he had every right to want to hide, why couldn’t I reciprocate?

  “There have been a lot of guys who’ve asked me out,” I admitted before I could lose my nerve. “But the truth is, I’m always scared to say yes.”

  “Worried they’ll all treat you like Linc?” he asked, an edge of bitterness creeping into his voice.

  I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just… I never really know if they actually want to get to know me, and not just do it for bragging rights. There’s all this speculation and talk about my dad, so people wonder if I’m insane, or if I’m going to start twitching and foaming at the mouth at any moment. It just seems better to protect myself from that than to say yes to anyone. I never know who’s real.”

  “And what about me?” he whispered. “Do you have any doubts about me?”

  “Sometimes,” I whispered. “I wonder if you only like me because I’m available. If you could pick anyone else, would you still choose me? When this is all over, and you get better, will we end, too?”

  I closed my eyes as I said the words, shame flooding me for letting them out. Still, I wanted to be candid with Tate. I cared about him, but I worried about those things all the time.

  “The truth is, you scare me most of all, Tate,” I continued. “Because when I’m with you, I’m comfortable and happy. I don’t have to pretend or hide parts of myself. But I’m so afraid, because if this ever ends, it’ll be so much more hurtful than being rejected by guys I didn’t really care about that much. As afraid as I am, though, I can’t seem to convince myself to walk away. I don’t want to.”

  His hands cupped my face, and his lips brushed my forehead. “Bell, I don’t like you because you’re ‘available.’ I like you because you’re the first person in a long time who has tried to get through to me, and you didn’t back down when I lashed out.”

  His lips found my face again. This time, skimming the bridge of my nose. I sighed, the tension in my shoulders relaxing as I realized what I’d said hadn’t upset him.

  “I like you because you were kind to me when I didn’t deserve it, and because you look at me in a way no one ever has… even when I was good-looking.”

  I opened my eyes and looked into his. “You’re still good-looking,” I insis
ted. “Anyone who can’t see that isn’t looking at you right. They’re focused on the wrong things.”

  He grinned, that uneven movement of his mouth making my heart stutter. “See? This is what I’m talking about. You’re the kind of person who looks at something that’s broken, but still sees it the way it was before. Those idiots who make fun of you and talk about you behind your back have no idea what they might have had if they’d bothered to pay attention. It didn’t take me long to discover what’s inside you, and now that I’ve found it… I don’t want to let it go. I’m scared, too, but I’m in this with you, as long as you’re in it with me. So, to answer your question, no, Bell, we are not going to end when this is over. At least, I don’t want us to end.”

  Reaching up to cover the hands cradling my face with my own, I smiled, my eyes beginning to sting with tears. “I don’t want that, either.”

  He brought me closer, kissing me more tenderly than he ever had—yet despite his gentleness, the heat from before sparked between us again. His fingers tickled my scalp as he reached up to loosen my hair. He caressed the strands, gently pulling them down to my shoulders while he went on kissing me, moving from my mouth, down my chin, and then to the side of my neck. I melted, feeling as if I’d become a puddle on the floor if he didn’t stop. Then, I realized I didn’t want him to stop. And now, there wouldn’t be any interruptions—not even my own doubts making me afraid to let things progress in the direction I knew they were going.

  “You should finish eating,” he murmured, moving abruptly as if to stand and let me go. He watched me as if waiting for me to take the lead and guide him—putting the control in my hands.

  So I accepted that control, reaching out to grab his shoulders, keeping him crouched in front of me. “I am finished.”

  Without taking his gaze from mine, he reached out and swiped our bags and wrappers into the nearby trash can. Then, grasping my waist, he stood, pulling me to my feet along with him.

  I clutched his shoulders, holding on tight while he kissed me again, deeper this time and with far more possessiveness. My heart raced, galloping in my chest as his kiss seemed to reach the outer parts of my body, even making my fingers tingle and my toes curl. He backed me toward the table, picking me up and setting me on its edge without pulling his mouth away from mine. His hands left my face, trailed down my shoulders, and followed their previous path, skimming my arms, then taking my hands and threading his fingers through mine. I clutched at his hands, holding tight to keep mine from shaking as the magnitude of what was about to happen sent a tremor down my spine. I was afraid, but also excited and anticipating something beautiful. Part of me felt guilty that we had come to this in a hotel room six hours away from home, where our parents had no idea where we were or what we were doing. Another part of me didn’t care, because in this room, at this moment, Tate and I were the only things that mattered.

  He tore his mouth from mine and stared down at me, his lips parted, breath racing between them. “Bell, I want this, so bad, but… I don’t want to rush things if you aren’t ready.”

  Smiling at him, I slid my hands beneath his shirt, encountering his flat stomach. He shivered when my fingernails traced the lines between his ab muscles. “But I am ready. Keep going.”

  Tate hesitated for only a second, seeming to ask me with his eyes if I were sure. To drive the point home, I reached down to grip the hem of my T-shirt. I pulled it off and tossed it to the floor. He clenched his jaw, looking at me with his breath now gone quiet, as if he held it. He released it on a rush as he reached down to pick me up, keeping a firm hold on me as he walked toward one of the beds, unclasping my bra as he went. Laying me back against the pillow, he climbed on over me and tossed the undergarment aside, leaving me naked from the waist up. He followed suit, tearing his shirt off over his head and dropping it to the floor before lowering himself to lie on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him, surprised to find his weight wasn’t crushing like I’d assumed. It was comforting, the warmth of his skin suffusing into me as he rested his chest against mine.

  He lowered his head to kiss me again, but I stopped him, reaching up to grab his face. Pausing, he watched with wide eyes as I lifted my head toward his, aiming for his jaw instead of his mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath when my lips found him, on the side of his face where only bone met my mouth beneath his skin. The imperfect side of his face. He stiffened when I did it again, moving a bit higher, my fingers tracing a path behind my lips, touching where my lips had kissed. Then, he sighed, relaxing as I forged a trail upward, over his hollow cheek and the jutting cheekbone, even brushing my lips over the lid of his drooping eye.

  I paused at his brow, my lips lingering there as I spoke. “I don’t care what anyone says,” I whispered. “You are beautiful to me.”

  Resting his forehead against mine, he closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he rasped, his arms tightening around me. His voice came out uneven, as if he fought back tears. I found them glimmering in the pools of his eyes when he opened them to look at me again. “If anyone else had said that to me, I’d think they were just saying it. But I know you… you don’t say things unless you mean them.”

  Resting my hands against the muscles in his back, I stared up at him. “I’ve never done this before.”

  Smiling down at me, he stroked a lock of hair back from my forehead. “That’s okay. I’ve done it far less than you’d think.”

  Lifting my eyebrows, I smirked. “Playboy Tate Baldwin, inexperienced? Say it ain’t so!”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “You know how it is. Stories get exaggerated. I dated a lot of girls, but this… it wasn’t something I did a lot of.”

  I released a sigh of relief, feeling a lot better about my lack of experience. “Should we… I mean… condoms or something?”

  Tate cringed. “Crap. Didn’t think to bring any. I wasn’t planning to take advantage of you, you know.”

  Laughing, I ran my fingers through his hair. “You’re not taking advantage of me. Try the nightstand drawer. This is a hotel off the interstate… I bet there’s one in there.”

  Rolling to his side, he turned his back to me to reach out toward the nightstand. I lay back and waited, hands folded against my bare stomach. A moment later, he turned back to me with a square, foil-wrapped package held between two fingers.

  “Jackpot,” he murmured. “There’s also a Bible in there, which just felt wrong. Who puts those things together?”

  Laughing, I reached for him, pulling him back toward me. “Try not to think about it.”

  “I’m not,” he insisted. “The only thing I’m thinking about right now is you.”

  Taking my mouth in a fiery kiss, he then set about proving just how true that statement was.

  Taking a bite of the syrup-soaked pancakes in front of me, I sighed in bliss. The pancakes were light and fluffy—much like the cloud I’d been walking on since waking up that morning beside Tate. Glancing up from my plate, I found him watching me, his expression pensive. We hadn’t spoken much since waking up in the same bed, Tate’s arm draped across my middle, with my back pressed up against his chest. I’d turned over to look at him and smile, and he’d kissed me. We had traded ‘good mornings’ before taking turns freshening up in the bathroom and getting dressed.

  Glancing at myself in the mirror while getting ready, I tried to determine if I looked as different as I’d felt. After all, I’d just made a monumental decision the night before. It had been more than I’d expected, and I figured that was because of the person I’d chosen to take the step with. As with everything Tate did when it came to me, he’d demonstrated a great amount of care and thoughtfulness. I couldn’t have asked for better. There had been a lot of uncertainty on my part, and a bit of pain, but it was made all the sweeter by the feeling of giving myself to him with no regrets.

  I supposed I should feel a sense of loss—yet there was none. Maybe, I decided, that was because I hadn’t actually lost anything, so much as I’d chosen to give it to
someone I cared about.

  How in the world could I say all that to him without sounding insane? I could hardly make sense of my feelings in my own head, let alone put them into words.

  “Breakfast?” Tate had asked once I’d finished getting dressed.

  “Sure,” I replied.

  Holding hands, we’d walked to the little restaurant next door, where the aroma of coffee and bacon had met us at the door. The silence wasn’t strained or awkward—it was comfortable. Still, we hadn’t discussed what had happened last night, and something told me that Tate wanted to. He kept looking at me as if trying to figure something out.

  Taking a sip of coffee, I set my mug aside and glanced up at him. “Everything okay?”

  Blinking and staring at me a moment as if he’d been deep in thought, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, fine. I was just thinking we should talk about last night.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Okay. Was it bad for you or something?”

  The notion hadn’t occurred to me until just now, striking dread in the pit of my stomach. A guy who knew what he was doing might have different expectations than the virginal girl who’d never even had a serious boyfriend.

  “Of course not,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Was it not good for you?”

  Nervous laughter escaped me as I realized we’d both had the same fear. “Don’t be silly. It was amazing.”

  Exhaling in a rush, he slumped back against his chair, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank God. I’ve wanted to ask all morning, but I didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding like an idiot.”

  I relaxed, relieved to no end to know that I wasn’t the only one with uncertainties. “I know you said you weren’t as experienced as rumors made you out to be, but I didn’t expect you to be as anxious the morning after as me.”

  Snorting, he shook his head. “I’m not, usually, but… well, as a rule, I usually don’t… you know…”

  Nodding, I realized what he was getting at. “You don’t generally do virgins.”