by A. Marie
Silence stretches with our gazes still connected, neither of us willing to relinquish the control each of us believe we have.
My palm grazes a rough patch of skin on his arm and he clears his throat to say, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I shouldn’t have thrown your keys.”
I study him for a long moment.
“I’m sorry, too. I had a lot going on and I shouldn’t have hit you. Or yelled. Or…”
Beckett’s watchful eye takes in everything and I have the sudden urge to cover myself, feeling stripped to my core. I don’t budge though, afraid I’ll reveal even more in the process. Instead, I silently take inventory of my hero in bare feet. Did he really run down here without shoes? Wait, how did he get down here so fast? Never mind. His legs and what he does with them are none of my concern, even if they look like they’d make for a hell of a test drive. Miles and miles of strong muscle.
I could take Evan on my worst day—which today may very well have been—and although I didn’t need Beckett coming to my rescue like he did, his outright bulldozing, landing me in his solid arms is no hardship. It beats where I was an hour ago—drunk and miserable at a bar, stirring up drama for the hell of it. At least Beckett has a sense of humor. Well, a rumored sense of humor anyway as I still have yet to see it for myself.
His lips tip into a small smile and I zero in on them, worried I spoke my thoughts aloud again.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Honestly?”
He nods and I decide today can’t get any worse.
What the hell?
CHAPTER 10
Beckett
“Your lips,” Paige breathes out like the confession physically pains her.
She’s made it clear I wouldn’t be her first choice—with both her words and her actions—for damn near anything, but I can’t figure out why. Aside from the obvious of us being roommates, I don’t know what her problem with me specifically is.
I haven’t exactly been the most inviting but she started it. She brings guys around here like she’s testing out paint samples. What does she expect? Dudes show up pawing all over her drunk ass and who knows what the fuck would happen without one of us around. Not that Marc has been much help.
And yeah, maybe Neighborhood Watch is my new gig but whatever. There’s not much that goes on around Creekwood that I don’t know about so it only makes sense that I’d look out for the newcomer, too. She’s obviously never had a male figure in her life to teach her how stupid us men really are, and that’s not even accounting for the dangerous ones. They’re not just ghost stories you tell around the campfire; sick fucks are out there, lurking behind far too many corners. Hell, most are hidden in plain sight.
If anyone can understand her need to get laid though, it’s me. Shit, I may not be the most discreet but at least all my hook-ups know the deal—one night of fun on tap is all I’ve ever promised anyone. And all I’ve ever delivered, too. Nothing less and sure as fuck nothing more.
Not everyone’s as upfront about being so utterly hopeless, and those that are, can’t always hold true to their word.
Holding her securely in my arms, pressed against almost every inch of my front, with my mouth on her mind, I can’t think of the last time anything felt so good and I start to wonder if I’m one. One of the lurches picking off the weak.
No way.
No way is Paige weak. Her mind games alone are worthy of wartime tactics and if I wasn’t on her radar, too, she wouldn’t bother with trying to throw me off the trail. Not when she has so many other opportunities, circling her like formation aerobatics at a goddamn airshow.
My eyes drop to see her tongue sneak out, wetting her lip, and I stifle a groan. One minute she’s got it shoved down another dude’s throat, the next she’s using it for kicks as I all but lose my fucking patience. Remembering her kiss with River fills my back with tension that spreads up my neck and out to my ears, turning them searing hot. Dude got one straight to the jaw for that little stunt.
Hope it was worth eating through a straw for a week.
From where I was standing, it looked like it was worth that…and more. Paige is the kind of woman you’d sell your soul to the devil for, without needing the deal fully inked.
Whatever the terms, no matter the consequences—done. Signed. Sealed. Delivered with a black bow and tinsel. Maybe even a glitter bomb for the grouchy old fuck. Take the whole fucking thing ‘cause she’s gotta be worth it.
If only I had one left to trade for.
My soul fled long ago, leaving behind armor that looks deceivingly like appealing packaging.
Whatever secrets Paige has hidden up her leather jacket sleeves, she deserves better than what I can offer her. If I was the offering type, which I’m not. So, even though she’s looking at my lips like they’re her next meal, I choose to provoke her in a way those other jokers wouldn’t dare. As much as she loves to play games, I’m gonna enjoy bending the fucking rules, and her, to my every whim, then we’ll see if she can really keep up or if she’s just playing at being fast.
“My lips?” Bringing my mouth in close to hers, I sideswipe her face, nudging it to the side and placing them just below her ear. “Not my boy, River’s?” He sure as shit isn’t my boy anymore but I’m not telling her that.
Instead of tensing for a fight like I expect though, Paige just laughs. A throaty laugh that tickles my lips. They twitch to close over the sound, pleading to swallow the noise whole. I want that laugh all for myself.
She makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “Definitely not his.”
Her head returns to look me square in the eye and the look she pins me with nearly has me coming in my pants. Jesus Christ, she’s a fucking force.
“Baby.”
The nickname falls from her lips as effortlessly as my hands fall to her hips, lifting her off her feet. Without further prompting, her legs swing around to frame my waist, clenching like she’s on that hot ass CBR. We crash into the side of the building next to the stairs and her jaw drops in a silent moan. I’m grinding into her the next second to keep those lips from closing any time soon. I have plans for that mouth and none of them involve it being closed.
And just.
Like.
That.
The plan to field her off snaps as quickly as it formed, like a poorly constructed tightwire over a waterfall of madness. I’m up to my neck now, about to go over completely.
“You owe me,” she chokes out and I’m already nodding. Whatever she thinks I owe, I’m ready to settle up. Now. With any luck, my debt will run deep. “For scaring off tonight’s distraction.”
Is she talking about that guy Evan or whatever his name was? I’ve eaten sandwiches meatier than him. What the hell kind of distraction could he provide?
“Distraction, huh?”
I knew she was hiding something. I just need to figure out what.
“And since you’re supposed to be the life of the party or something like that…”
Something like that? Please.
“Girl, I put the fun in dysfunction.”
Her white teeth flash in the shitty lamplight above our heads swarmed by moths repeatedly throwing themselves against the opaque barrier keeping them from what they want, despite the high cost.
“Perfect. I put the ass in disaster.”
I bark out a thick laugh, growing even harder when I grip the ass in question, rubbing my erection against Paige’s center and watching that cliff of insanity creep up with increasing speed as her nails dig into my shoulders with the same urgency vibrating through my entire body.
She’s quicker than I gave her credit for.
“What do you need to be distracted from?”
On a sigh, the word “everything” leaves her mouth the way one might pray for rain in a serious drought.
I try to catch her eye but she blinks long and hard, hiding those emerald-colored eyes from me.
“Just…make it all disappear.”
Th
at I get. That I can do—incredibly fucking well.
Under her open jacket, her nipples strain through her black lacy top and my mouth goes dry at the sight, making me realize that I’m the one stuck in a drought. A seriously fucked drought with skylines full of the same mirage-like wavy lines everywhere.
But then, why does it feel like I was just handed keys to a kingdom I know I don’t deserve? It feels like a set-up. A set-up to fail.
Fail who though? Her or me?
Her eyes pop open, staring me down with more clarity than she’s shown all night, then she says, “I won’t ask again.”
I’d smirk if I had any feeling left in my face but I don’t, not with all the blood in my body rushing south for, you know, warmth—hers, hopefully.
What can I say to that? No? I don’t think so. I’m a people pleaser, it’s what I do, and if my Tahoe wasn’t across the fucking lot, she’d already be laid out across the hood like an all you can eat buffet.
Working with what I got, I press her into the outside wall, wondering if I can really pull this off. Hell, I’d dry hump the shit out of her if I thought I could last.
“Fuck, Paige. What are we doing?” I ground out, against the soft part of her neck. Her sweet peach smell luring me in like a helpless sap.
“What do you want to do?”
Are we talking specifics here? Because I’ve got a lot of ideas.
I rear back to see her face again. Her usual spark is alive and well with a raised eyebrow egging me on. But there’s something else, too. Something I can’t put my finger on.
Vulnerability?
Nah. She hasn’t shown an ounce of that since she showed up to Creekwood. Except for yesterday and whatever it was that made her run out of here like a ghost was chasing her. A ghost of…somebody?
Which reminds me.
“Would you’ve asked that kid Evan the same thing?”
Her eyes flare as bright and obvious as if one were streaking across the midnight sky, signaling a problem.
Here we go.
“Meet me in my room in five.”
She wiggles out of my arms and I reluctantly let go, setting her back on her feet. The space between our bodies immediately grows cold but before I can bring her back to erase what I just said from her thoughts, she takes off up the stairs.
Shit.
I run my fingers through my hair, gripping the ends and pulling them over my forehead.
Why did I say that?
My hands drop to hang at my sides as I rest the back of my head against the same wall Paige’s body just was, not really sure what’s happening. Her expression said a lot without giving anything away. Was she pissed? Or was she just turned on?
If I had to guess, I’d say a little of both.
On one hand, if I go up to her room, I’m not exactly sure where it will lead. Paige is impulsive. She made out with a random dude just to piss me off. Or make a statement. I don’t even know because the red veil of rage clouded my vision and I missed her point entirely.
On the other hand, I like her brand of crazy. There’s a method to her madness that only she knows. It’s like what Coty said before, instead of trying to crush a woman’s spirit, you embrace the beauty in her reckless ways. I’m not interested in making Paige something she’s not but I can’t deny the fact that I want to taunt the fuck out of the fierce creature she is.
I check the time on my phone. Two minutes. Fuck it, that’s all I’m giving her.
Nerves firing on all cylinders, I stalk through the dark apartment, fully expecting Paige to have a leather whip or some other kinky shit. I roll my shoulders, cracking my neck, ready to tackle whatever I’m in for.
What am I in for?
Except, my hand gripping the handle to her bedroom feels more like an opening to something else, something I don’t know the first thing about.
And so, I falter. I freeze. I completely choke like a virgin on prom night. Whatever this is, it could ruin everything.
Feeling reckless myself, I decide to take that chance by turning the knob. Unfortunately, that shit doesn’t so much as shift.
I glance around the dark hallway, finding nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, it’s dead silent until…
Hearing a soft moan, I press my ear to her door. The husky hum grows louder, mixing with a moan, and I shoot my eyes to Marc’s door down the hall. Is he in there right now? Nobody else was here and there’s no way someone slipped past me downstairs. Is this the set-up?
His door is closed but it always is. I consider checking to see if it’s locked but then a buzzing sound kicks up and my feet stay rooted.
My ear flat against her door, I listen as Paige works herself over with a motherfucking vibrator. Like everything else with this girl, it both pisses me off and excites me. She runs her own show and I’m left to watch from the sidelines, exactly how she wants. Something about her keeps my eyes trained on the production though, not willing to walk away like I normally would.
Her moans are uninhibited now, quickly building up to an orgasm and after absolutely zero deliberation, I drop my hand to my dick. The buzzing gets muffled with every thrust and I stroke myself under my soft shorts in time with Paige, imagining her sweat-slicked body naked, stretched across her mattress, similar to the night I put her to bed. Lights on so every detail is on full display. Hair, untamed like her, splayed out around her flushed face while she pleasures herself.
My hips thrust forward picturing Paige readying her pussy. For me.
Sweat beads at my hairline, threatening to fall, so I push the hair back, wishing I had a hat on instead.
Fuck. I flip the bottom of my shirt up, giving my abs some air as they constrict with my movements.
A gasp filters through the door and the way it wraps around my shoulders, tight and needy, I know she’s almost there. I’m following close behind with my own long, quick strokes. So fucking close.
Precum beads at my tip and I quickly roll my palm over the moisture using the natural lube to pump my swollen cock.
She releases her breath with a short, tortured whimper so I pick up the pace, not wanting to miss a thing.
Out of nowhere, she cries out, “Beckett,” and the sick satisfaction of hearing my name has me coming hard in the next second. With a grunt of my own, ropes of jizz spill all over my hand and shorts and fuck if I don’t care one bit. She said my name. Not River. Not Marc. None of the other assholes she’s brought around.
Just mine.
My name rolled off her tongue in her rawest form and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
Breathless, I drop my other fist to the door as my forehead rocks against the thin wood, wondering where that devil is when you need him. If he appeared right now, I’d fake a soul just so I could barter with him. To see what Paige looked like in that moment. To know if the images I conjured up are even close to the real thing. If so, I want round two immediately, preferably with me on the other side of the door this time.
I wait for some kind of acknowledgement—it’s pretty fucking obvious I’m here—but nothing happens. Not a damn thing.
Except for a drawer opening and closing, Paige doesn’t make a single sound.
What the fuck was that then? I just jerked off outside her locked door while she fucked herself thinking about me. If that isn’t the biggest mind fuck of all, I don’t know what is.
With a shake of my head, I leave to clean myself up in the bathroom, then pass her silent room again, heading to my own. At least I’m not going to sleep with blue balls like I have every other night since she moved in.
* * *
“Beck, buddy, good news. It’s time to go home.”
“My head hurts,” I groan loudly, worried it’s too loud. “I don’t think they checked it. They only did x-rays on my arm, Dad. Tell them to look. Please.”
My dad’s head drops to his hands and a pang of guilt hits but I shove it away. I don’t care if he thinks I’m lying. I’m not going anywhere ‘til they call her. It’s a h
ospital, that’s what they do. They take care of broken people and I haven’t been whole since she left. The least they can do is call the person responsible. Give my mom the chance to fix me herself.
“Son, it’s been four years. She-”
“Dad.”
His head snaps up, determined, and I flinch.
“She’s not coming back. Damn it, I wish she was. More than you think. More than I show. Trust me, I’d give anything to have her back, but it’s not happening. She made her choice and we’re not it.”
His voice cracking at the end does me in and I release the tears I’ve been holding in since the accident on my dirt bike.
There’s a tapping.
I look up from the hospital bed, searching. Is she here? I knew she’d come. As soon as I saw my bone bent the wrong way, I knew she’d have to return.
My dad is watching me through watery eyes of his own, his suit and hair still styled to perfection. How? How can he act like nothing is wrong?
That takes a lot of work. I know because I’ve been trying for four years now and I’m tired. I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of hoping. Every birthday without a homemade cake found off the internet, every sleepover with those stupid boys from school that only invite me because their moms make them. Because their moms care. Because their moms are still around and mine isn’t.
“Where is she?” I wail, giving up on the whole head thing. I don’t care if he knows I lied. I just want her already.
But my dad just shakes his head, sick of this. Sick of me. Doesn’t he want her to come home? It’s been miserable without her. We’ve been miserable without her. I’ve been freaking miserable without her. She didn’t take anything while leaving me with absolutely nothing. Her clothes, her makeup, her books, everything is still sitting exactly where she left it, waiting for her just like I am. I’ve been put through absolute crap waiting around for her but here I am still, biding my time until she grows tired of her new life with her new husband. With her new family.
Snot pours out of my nose and I wipe it angrily with my hand, forgetting there’s a cast now.
Knocking starts up.
I ignore the noise, too focused on the fresh pain. Narrowing my gaze at the cast, I use it to swipe at my nose again. And again. I raise my hand a third time but my dad grabs my wrist, stopping me.