Changing Lanes: A Creekwood Novel (Creekwood Series Book 2)

by A. Marie

  Keeping his eyes on his task, he works the shampoo in thoroughly until he pushes me gently under the cascading water to rinse it all out. He keeps a hand at my hairline above my forehead, making sure no ‘chemicals’ make it past. Once the water finally runs clear, his gaze drops to watch, too, blazing a scorching path along my entire body identical to the one I just left on his.

  My thighs inch closer together.

  Without so much as blinking, Beckett grabs the conditioner and squirts a good amount into his hand before sinking his teeth into his lip when I run my hands over the rest of my body to rinse off any remaining bubbles. It’s not meant to be a tease—at least not for myself—but the fact that both our chests are heaving lets me know it is. It definitely is.

  Even though I told him it doesn’t go on the scalp, he applies the conditioner much like he did the shampoo. I don’t dare complain though. In fact, I’m regretting not letting him use that half cup of shampoo he poured originally—we could’ve been here all night.

  Swirls and swirls and swirls later, my eyes close on a moan I couldn’t suppress if my life depended on it and Beckett’s hands disappear from my hair instantly.

  When I open them, he’s staring at me with eyes so dark they look like a tsunami building in the distance. Impact is guaranteed, I just don’t know how much longer until it hits.

  “Rinse,” is all he rasps, like even that’s too much.

  Keeping his hand as a dam again, our eyes lock onto each other’s, and I lean back under the spray, blinking away any errant drops that land on my lashes.

  Beckett drops his hand, sliding it around to my lower back, then he brings me forward until our fronts are mashed together with his impressive erection pressed between us against my stomach. Warm mist whirls around us as he looks down at me, wet hair clinging to his forehead.

  “Can I touch you?”

  In any other circumstance I might laugh—I mean, what parts aren’t touching right now?—but seeing his serious expression combined with the longing he’s battling awaiting my answer, all I can do is whisper back, “Where?”

  “Everywhere.”

  My eyes shift between his and I nod, licking the clean water droplets off my lips.

  Wrapping his arm further around my back, he lifts me straight off my feet and I wrap my legs around his torso as he turns to push me against the shower wall with the spray of water still hitting us from the side.

  His mouth is on me in the next second, tasting every bit of skin he can reach, including my throat. My arms slip around his neck while he feasts on mine and all I can think about are the hickeys I’ll be wearing on my first day back to work.

  While I still can, I pant out, “Lower.”

  Beckett misunderstands and lowers my entire body just until the tip of his cock teases my opening. We both groan from the contact.

  “Do you have any condoms in here?”

  He pulls back, eyebrows furrowed, and shakes his head once. “They’re in my room.”

  “We can go get them,” I suggest even though the thought of interrupting this moment sounds like actual torture.

  “Marc’s home.”

  “So?” I grin. “You can cover yourself with a towel.”

  “So, I’m not fucking moving without keeping you on my dick and he might see you naked.”

  “I’m not on your dick.”

  My body is dropped an inch more directly onto Beckett’s dick, officially making me a liar. I gasp from the slight intrusion, digging my heels into his ass to keep him from pulling back out.

  “If you want me to stop, tell me now. Please.” His forehead rests on mine as we both drop our gazes between us to watch our bodies start to adjust to each other’s, like they know something we don’t. “I’ve never done it like this, I swear, but if you don’t want to, if you’re worried, we don’t have to.”

  The sincerity painted across his face says it all—he’s telling the truth. He’s been here with me, revealing his true self all along, it’s just taken me a while to finally see it. How he was today, the sweet gestures, the proactive measures, that’s Beckett. The one not everyone gets to see. The one he makes sure people don’t see. But he’s showing me now. He’s trusting me just like I’m trusting him. I’ve never had sex without protection either, so this step feels big. Bigger than Beckett even.

  “I’m not worried,” I say, shaking my head. At least not in the way he’s referring to. “I’m on birth control,” I tell him since he seems like he’d freak about that.

  Nudging between my folds, I receive him with all the fanfare one would imagine you’d welcome a giant with—a few curses of disbelief but overall a great appreciation for their company. I already knew he was big but seeing and believing really are two different things because until this moment I did not heed the warnings my brain was sending me.

  I stop squirming to see him studying me.

  “Are you ready?”

  My head is already nodding as I grab his face, pulling his lips to mine. I’ve never been more ready.

  Our bodies move together to fit him the rest of the way in but once he’s fully sheathed, he freezes as do I. Fitting together like a perfectly matched lock and key buried deep in my core, it’s like I can feel all the tumbler pins fall into place as he meets my inner walls, cementing the fact I’ve been trying desperately to ignore—this is different. He’s different. We’re fucking different.

  After years of dealing with the wrong match again and again and again and ending in disappointment more times than not, being with Beckett is like running full speed at a semi-truck barreling toward you. The collision—imminent. Danger—inevitable. Carnage—every-fucking-where.

  How are either of us supposed to survive this, let alone come out unscathed?

  After getting our bearings, his hips thrust up into me while his arm on my back pulls me down and the contrast creates an aggressive sort of friction, kind of like hate-fucking, minus the hate. No, there’s not an ounce of actual aggression in Beckett’s movements. Just pure need. A need so strong, sparks ignite with every connection. Not bright sparks. Sparks you don’t see until it’s too late. The kind that burn entire countries to the ground before anyone even knows what happened.

  We barely speak as our movements pick up speed but words aren’t necessary. There are no directions when you’re spinning out of control. And so, we fumble through whatever this is, both of us touching and kissing and groping and grinding on the other one until our movements grow messy, absolutely crazed for the other as we approach our final destination together.

  Growling, Beckett rips his lips from mine so suddenly, my eyes jolt open.

  “Swear to fuck, I’m about to lose it.”

  “What? Why?”

  Everything in me tenses, including my pussy muscles clenched around Beckett still buried inside me.

  “No, no, no. Don’t do that yet. It’s not you.” His lips brush mine briefly. “It’s this fucking thing.” Twisting the top portion of his body, he uses his free hand to grab the shower curtain liner. “It’s sticking to my ass.” Then he yanks it, ripping the material clean off and sending some of the rings airborne as they fly off the rod broken. Only half of the actual shower curtain is still hanging in place with the plastic portion falling to the tub floor.

  We both stare at the crumpled mess for a minute before meeting each other’s eyes.

  “You killed it.”

  “Nah, it’s just-” he frowns, his bottom lip sticking out, “asleep.”

  Our laughs settle around us as thick as the humidity.

  “You think that’s funny?” he asks, getting ahold of himself first and pumping into me with long, slow strokes now that I’m relaxed again.

  The laughter shrivels up into a tight ball of sensation and I nod, unable to speak from the unhurried pace. A piece of hair falls over my eyes and that same free hand he used to murder our shower curtain comes up to brush it away.

  “There you are.” His blue eyes hone in on mine. “I thought
I lost you today. You hid.”

  I couldn’t.

  “You ran.”

  I wouldn’t.

  He pulls me tight to him so the base of his shaft hits my clit and I cry out sharply.

  “This is what you want?”

  His breath comes out in spurts while mine gets stuck in my throat. Beckett rotates his hips in circles, rubbing against my aching clit each time and I’m finally able to breathe again as it all rushes out at once.

  “Yes,” I moan. To his question. To the feeling building between my legs. To all of it.

  I try to kiss him again, wanting to get fully lost in him, but he leans his mouth out of reach, still watching every expression cross my face. His continuous motion falters though and I see that moment of oh shit register. He’s coming much sooner than he wanted. The short-lived self-satisfaction is quickly replaced by my own orgasm forming right behind his as my legs latched around his hips shake. With my toes curling almost painfully, my heels press him to me even harder.

  Only a few more circular pumps and we both tumble across the finish line, clumsy and sweaty and loud. Very, very loud.

  I slam my eyes shut against Beckett and the rest of the world. A little more time. I just need a little longer in this moment. With him. With us.

  His forehead presses to mine, and he breathes, “Fuck.”

  I open my eyes again, watching Beckett’s sharp jawline as he works to catch his breath.

  Yes. Exactly. Fuck.

  The water eventually runs cold so he lowers my legs to the floor as I reach to shut it off.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Even as the words that taste like a lie slip past my lips, I still hold on to that last bit of hope that I’m right. That this didn’t just blow my plan to coast through life without being tied down wide open. Why the fuck did I think this would end in any way other than pain? Beckett and I have been drawn to each other since that first meeting with the magnetic pull only growing stronger with every encounter since.

  But how can meaningless sex actually mean something? When did feelings enter the picture? And why did I let them?

  Grabbing our respective towels, we dry off in silence. It’s not exactly awkward but it’s not not awkward either. My outside is quiet while my inside is anything but and I don’t know how to reconcile the two. Not yet. Not now.

  I need some time to process. Or avoid. Truthfully, either will work—I think.

  He exits first, wrapping the towel around his trim waist, and takes a seat on the closed toilet lid as if he’s settling in for the latest blockbuster. I follow after but keep my eyes on the task at hand, any task at hand, while Beckett’s trail me like I’m the leading lady.

  Wearing my own towel, I set about braiding my hair. Blow drying it will take forever and even though Beckett looks like he wouldn’t mind the delay, my stomach is already full of butterflies on speed, so I braid it down the middle, hoping it’ll at least make for some nice waves in the morning, and finish getting ready for bed.

  Although I refuse to look at him, Beckett’s gaze never wavers from me, taking in everything I’m doing from brushing my teeth to smoothing on lotion. He sits silently, just observing my mundane bedtime routine without so much as interrupting or falling asleep. I have no idea why he’s doing it or why I like it so much.

  Neither of us acknowledges the fact that he ruined both the shower curtain and me, and while I’ll never be the same, the shower curtain can be replaced.

  So can you, I think bitterly.

  “Well, I’m off to bed,” I say to the floor.

  One foot out the door and Beckett is there instead, gripping me, steering me, tempting me. At his doorway, I finally turn to meet his eyes.

  “Give me,” he starts, then drops his hands smoothing them on his toweled waist, “give me this one night. That’s all I can offer you. That’s all I got.”

  “Beckett.”

  Leaning down to my eye level, he whispers, “Please?”

  Tonight’s the last night I’ll be there to ward off his nightly ghosts, after that he’s back on his own. A victim to whatever’s plaguing him in his weakest state. He’s a big boy though, he can fight his own battles.

  But my body chooses for me by walking backward into his room, ready to take on Beckett’s demons one last time.

  “Hold that thought.”

  He returns to the bathroom, leaving me standing confused in my own towel until I hear the telltale sounds of him brushing his teeth.

  With a shake of my head and a racing heart, I grab a shirt out of the first drawer I open and shove it over my head before peeling back his covers to climb in.

  One night. All he wants is one night. All I want is one night. I can handle one night. He can handle one night. This is perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  Isn’t it?

  CHAPTER 22

  Paige

  “So, have you heard from your brothers since your birthday?” Cynthia asks over the phone.

  Pulling into the parking lot of the guys’ garage a few minutes before Cruz was ready—his boss wouldn’t give him the time off after all—I called Cynthia to catch up. She just started her new job and filled me in on all the differences so far. She does well with the high stress situations often accompanying nursing positions so she should do amazing in the emergency room.

  As far as I’ve seen in the days I’ve been back, Dennis, and the others, have been doing much better. Everyone except my mother. She’s looking healthier from getting her medication regularly again, but she still doesn’t seem quite herself. And maybe that part is just another piece of her slipping away to the disease. Another chunk of her DNA that makes her so uniquely her is just gone, forever lost to the turbulent sea of Alzheimer’s. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I refuse to accept this is the end and I never will.

  My eyes flutter closed as I lean back on my bike, soaking in the sun. My face is almost back to normal and the rays of sunshine feel like forbidden kisses from a long-lost lover across my daylight deprived skin. It’s taken the whole week to get adjusted to working nights and sleeping days again, that last one in particular has been especially hard. After Sunday night with Beckett, I returned to my room, to my bed, to my customary seclusion—to loneliness.

  Marc’s been gone all week. I have no idea where he went other than I saw him wheeling a suitcase out to his car one afternoon when I couldn’t sleep and noticed he hasn’t been back since. Yeah, sleep’s been hard to come by lately.

  “They’ve been checking in but this week is crazy,” I say around a yawn, stretching my arm above my head to pick at my pillion. While it’s true the boys have called to talk to me, none of them have made the effort to visit Mom which still frustrates me.

  “I bet it is with those two hot roommates to keep you busy.”

  I snort, grateful nobody’s around. I already scanned the lot, twice, for Beckett’s bike, knowing he took it in place of his Tahoe today, and finding it strangely absent. It’ll make this awkward lunch date with Cruz easier without him here. That’s what I tell myself as I check the lot for the third time.

  “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

  “Are you telling me they’re not? I saw them for myself, Paige.”

  Spotting a pizza delivery car pull in, I sit up and meet the busted ass Honda in front of my own busted ass Honda. At least mine is faster though. And thanks to Beckett, not quite as busted anymore. Although she still isn’t special to most, she’s precious to me. I pay the awkward teen with an extra tip for his excellent taste in rides when I catch him eyeing my baby. Too bad I’m on the phone or I’d let him rev the engine. That always gets the kids excited.

  “I didn’t say that.” And I never would. Hot describes my roommates perfectly even if they’re like night and day. Where Marc is an opaque depth warning you away from impending peril, Beckett is a sparkly surface just above a murky unknown coaxing you to come a little closer. “Sunbrook’s just been insane, that’s
all. It hasn’t left much time for anything else.”

  I would’ve assumed the garage was slammed, too, based off Cruz not being able to even break away for a quick bite but this place seems pretty tame compared to how he made it sound this morning. He apologized profusely but still wanted to go out. As he started hinting toward my cherished weekend, I quickly volunteered to bring lunch to him instead. It’d cross this stupid date off the list and leave my weekend open. Not that I have any plans but spending my only night off with Cruz sounds like a supreme waste of time. Time I could spend at home. Or something. I don’t know. Going out just doesn’t hold the same appeal anymore.

  I haven’t seen Beckett since the morning after our shower when I slipped from his bed unnoticed. When he begged me to stay the night with him, I assumed it was to play Red Rover, Red Rover, Send Beckett’s Monster Cock Right Over again and I was right. The man is like a tree I want to climb.

  Wanted. I wanted to climb. But that’s done and over with now. We are done and over with. This date today proves that.

  But, that was four days ago and the only reminder of the hours we spent together under his sheets are the hickeys littering my body. Beckett left marks everywhere. On every fucking part of me, even places I swore I’d never let him, or anyone else, reach.

  Seeing his bike missing from Pop The Hood’s lot fills me with more jitters than if it were here, front and center. I think.

  I tune back in to Cynthia carrying on about her new coworkers.

  “So, do you miss me already? How’s the newest nurse? Please tell me Rosie hired someone with actual experience this time.”

  Rosie hired another nurse for nights but I’m not sure exactly why yet. I’m hoping it doesn’t mean my time at Sunbrook is up. I still need time. I always need time.

  “Oh, she’s green. Like romaine.”

  Rosie’s notorious for hiring girls fresh out of nursing school, thankfully, or else I would’ve never had the opportunity I have now.

  “Hey, I gotta go,” I tell her when I spot Cruz heading toward me. With a promise to hang out this weekend, I end the call and stand to meet him. He’s covered in grease and gives me an awkward side hug.