Beau had given her a picnic under the stars, but he’d also given her a pair of brand new Converse in her size when any old tennis shoes would’ve been fine. He paid attention when it counted and when it didn’t. Lola’s love for Beau was as fresh as the wound he’d left her with. That was good. She needed to feel the sting of both in order to pull this off.
She checked the clock by the bed. 2:17 A.M.
Lola folded back the comforter, swung her legs over the side of the mattress and stood. Beau had given her a robe, so she slipped into it. She easily knew her way to his room in the dark.
She stopped in his doorway. Her life had changed in that room. In that bed, she’d given him everything that’d meant anything to her. She had crawled across the floor to him, opened her legs to his mouth, bit the comforter as he’d broken down her last barrier. In that moment, Lola’s love might’ve been hard to find, but her attraction to Beau was as loud as the beating of her heart. It was dangerous, and it’d require all of her strength to control it.
Lola tiptoed to the edge of his bed. His heavy, steady breaths told her he was sleeping peacefully. How could he not be when he’d gone so long without rest? She bent at the waist and peered at him in the dark. It would take nothing to hurt him. It would also be just as easy to fuck him. Was he naked? Did he dream of their two nights and what a third would be like?
His breathing stopped instantly. Before Lola could react, Beau’s arm shot out and grabbed her robe by the belt. “What are you doing?”
She touched his hand at her waist, his skin radiating warmth. When he didn’t object, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“What do you want, a lullaby?” His tone was harsh, but his hand slipped inside the robe. Her breath stuttered as her body reacted to his touch in an alarming way—thawing as if it’d been frozen and waiting for heat. It disgusted her, the way Beau aroused her. He didn’t deserve her, and he wouldn’t have her—but he had to believe he could. She knew from experience, hope was one of the most painful things a person could lose.
Beau’s palm flattened over her stomach and slid up around her waist. “Take this off,” he said. “Come here.”
She tightened the robe around herself but pulled back the covers and got in.
Beau sat up on an elbow and looked down at her. With his other hand, he touched the lapel of the robe. Lola’s heart nearly stopped. He’d promised to respect her wishes, but did it matter? Wasn’t it his way, to take what he wanted while making her think she wanted it too?
He moved his hand to her face, leaned in and kissed her. Every part of him was warm from sleep—his lips, the inside of his mouth, his breath. His thigh pressed against hers. She couldn’t ignore the dull throb between her legs. No matter how much he’d hurt her, she’d always want this. But Beau had taken it away from her. This was his fault.
She didn’t stop him right away. Men needed to touch and feel, to know she physically existed. It had to be done, and it had to be convincing, so she melted into the mattress, gripped his face and ran her fingertips down his scratchy cheeks. He opened his mouth wider, kissed her harder.
She pushed him back by his chest. They stared at each other, panting. “You promised,” she said.
“You crawled into my bed.”
“To be close to you.”
“Let me get this straight.” He placed his palm right below her throat, on the only skin the robe exposed. “You’re asking me to sleep next to you and not touch you?”
If Beau moved his hand any lower, if he commanded her, Lola wasn’t sure how she’d resist, but she had to. Her dignity was in shreds, but sleeping with him would destroy everything.
Lola rolled her lips together and glanced out toward the balcony, lit up from the moon. “I need time, Beau. You hurt me, and the worst part is, you did it on purpose. You can’t expect me to—”
Beau sat up and switched on the bedside lamp.
Lola shielded her eyes. “What’re you doing?”
“What do you think’s going to happen when you come in here in the middle of the night? After everything we’ve been through in this exact spot?”
Lola reached over him and turned out the light. It was too harsh. Maybe she’d come to him too soon, but they needed to mend the bond they’d broken, and it had to be fast. Too fast for him to realize it was happening. “Do you want me to leave?”
He lay on his back again, looked up at the ceiling and sighed as if he carried the weight of the world on his chest. “No.”
Lola put her hand on his bicep, softly stroking the hard muscle with her thumb. Touch was good—a weapon, even—as long as she could control it. “I’m not talking about your bed. Should I go?”
“I already told you. When I make a decision, it’s done. I invited you here tonight. You aren’t leaving.” He rolled his head toward her, removed her hand from his bicep and pulled her down next to him. “Not this room. Not this spot.”
Lola’s body thrilled, but it was with a different kind of adrenaline. This feeling—this kind of power over someone—it wasn’t like she’d never experienced it before, even with Beau. When her mouth was on his cock, or the moments right before she undressed, he’d get this look in his eyes like there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. This was something else, though. She was doing this to him with her words, using him against himself.
“Will you still feel that way tomorrow?” Lola asked. “What if—”
“I don’t do ‘what if,’ Lola.” Beau turned onto his side, put his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He yawned in her ear. It was a moment before he spoke again, and his voice sounded far off. “Tomorrow is tomorrow. We’ll deal with it then. If you’re worried I’ll wake up and…”
“And what?
“Change my mind…”
Lola waited, willing herself to stay perfectly still. If she tensed even one muscle, Beau would notice. That was the kind of attention she was dealing with. After a few seconds of silence, she realized he’d fallen asleep. “Beau?”
“Hmm?” He inhaled deeply and sighed. “What?”
“You said if I’m worried you’ll wake up and change your mind…?”
He tightened his arms around her and whispered into her hair, “I won’t.”
He fell back asleep. She bit her lip to keep her relief inside and the smile from her face. It seemed to Lola that within only a few hours, she already had the bastard exactly where she wanted him.
14
Beau opened his eyes at 5:58 A.M. on the dot, just like every other morning. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep—routine was one of the secrets to his success. It kept him on track. It was the framework by which he measured his output.
This wasn’t every other morning, though. Lola was in his arms. It didn’t surprise him, but the memory of how she’d gotten there was foggy. Beau didn’t like being woken up by anyone. It put him at a disadvantage. But if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been there in his bed that morning. And he liked her there.
He slid his arms out from under her and got up on an elbow. Her heart-shaped lips were parted for small, even breaths. He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. Based on the previous morning, this was the last thing he would’ve expected to wake up to. Even knowing Lola loved him, he wouldn’t have thought her pride would allow her to fight for him. She had a weakness for him the way he did for her.
Beau got out of the bed and pulled on his boxer briefs. Before leaving the room, he turned back and took his cell phone from the nightstand. God knew what kinds of incriminating things Brigitte might text him.
In the suite’s kitchenette, he took two mugs from a cabinet. If Lola had slept as little as he did, she’d need caffeine when she woke. He rarely made his own coffee, but he didn’t want to leave her alone to go get some. He got a pot started and checked on Lola to see if she was still asleep. She’d flipped over, her black hair strewn on the pillow like a sinister Sleeping Beauty.
He went to
the foot of the bed, let his eyes travel the sheeted curves and bends of her body. He could take what he wanted from her. Waking her with a kiss would lead him between her legs in no time. He knew her body better than she did, how to touch it, read it, manipulate it. He traced the arch of her foot underneath the sheet, and she stirred.
His respect had to be earned. That was a tall order for the women he’d slept with. But he and Lola had been through enough that he felt he owed her at least that. It wasn’t a stretch, not at all, to think he might love her. That was why he left the bed despite wanting to climb in next to her. He wouldn’t keep his hands off her if he did.
He went out to the balcony and let the morning air cool his urges. The sky had shaded from black to cobalt, silhouetting the mountains against a blue as rich as Lola’s eyes. He closed the door to the room and called Brigitte.
“Beau?” she answered and cleared her throat. “What time is it? Is everything all right?”
“Sorry to wake you.” He looked back at Lola through the windowed door. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically. This was what he’d missed those mornings she’d left at dawn. Anticipating the moment she’d wake up. Planning what they’d do with their day. “I’m coming home.”
After a moment of silence, she spoke, the smile clear in her voice. “Well, that’s news worth waking up for. I’ve missed having you around the house these past few weeks.”
Beau kept watching Lola. He went out of his way to avoid fights with Brigitte, but this was one he needed to have. He wanted to do right by Lola from now on, and that wasn’t stashing her away in a hotel room. “I’m not coming alone.”
“Meaning?” She waited. “You’re bringing someone over? Who?”
“We’ve been talking about getting you your own place for a while—”
“You’ve been talking about it,” she said, sounding more awake now. “I haven’t.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to go if I didn’t think you’d like it. Being on your own.” Over time, Brigitte had grown less independent and more reliant on Beau. He didn’t mind taking care of her, but he planned on having Lola around a lot. And for her sake, he wanted his home back. “You have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” she asked, her voice rising. “You’re throwing me out on the street. How am I supposed to trust you?”
Beau closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t blow this out of proportion. I’ll talk to my real estate agent today, and in the meantime, Warner and I will find you something temporary. You’ll be more than comfortable.”
“Pass me off to Warner like always. Did he know about this?”
“I didn’t even know until just now. And I do not pass you off to Warner. Remember our conversation about wild exaggerations?”
“It’s not an exaggeration. When was the last time you did anything for me that required more than making a phone call or writing a check? When I had that kidney infection last year, Warner took me to the hospital.”
“And I paid your medical bills without flinching,” Beau said evenly. “I’m your brother, not your employer.”
“That’s not the point. You wanted new furniture for the guestroom last month, so I got it. But you couldn’t even come by the store to give me a second opinion on what I’d picked out. ‘Just put it on the card, and have it delivered.’ Whenever I need help or a ride or anything that doesn’t absolutely require your presence, you send something else in your place. If it’s not Warner, it’s your credit card.”
“Damn it, Brigitte, we’ve been through this before. I’m fucking busy. How do you expect me to take care of you if I’m not working my ass off?”
“Maybe I need to be taken care of in other ways,” she snapped.
“I do as much for you as I’m capable of. I’m not your goddamn boyfriend. If you want someone to go shopping with you, find someone who has the time and inclination.” Beau ended the call, gripping the phone. All people ever wanted from him was money, and he was fine with that. Why couldn’t that be enough for Brigitte too? He didn’t need to be constantly reminded of his shortcomings as a brother and a son. He gave his family what he could, and that was more than what ninety-nine percent of the world had. He held up his phone again, but this time he sent Brigitte a text.
* * *
Start packing. Will have arrangements for you by tomorrow.
* * *
He turned off his phone and went back inside.
15
Twenty-four hours after she’d stormed out of his hotel room vowing never to touch him again, Lola woke up in Beau’s empty bed. She stood and tightened the belt of the robe she’d slept in. The balcony doors sat open, inviting a chill into the room. Lola stretched her arms toward the ceiling and refrained from patting herself on the back. She’d snuck into Beau’s room in the middle of the night and had come out the other side in one piece. It was a small miracle she hadn’t caved to his advances, but now she knew just what she was capable of.
“You’re still here.”
Lola looked over her shoulder. Beau stood on the other side of the bed with a towel around his waist and shaving cream all over his jaw.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.
He pointed behind her. “Old habits.”
Lola turned forward again. The rising sun sent pink and orange streaks across the sky—the moment Lola would be climbing out of Beau’s limo back to Johnny. “I’m not leaving.”
“I don’t want you to,” he called from the bathroom.
She followed his voice. Beau leaned over the sink. It was unfamiliar territory for them, the fresh scent of his shaving cream and the scrape of the blade over his stubble.
“I was worried you might change your mind this morning,” she said.
He glanced briefly at her in the mirror’s reflection. “I didn’t.”
“How do we do this?”
He dragged the razor up his cheek, mowing down each of the bristles Lola loved to feel against her face. Beau had enough money to buy a human, but apparently not an electric razor. That was him in a nutshell—rewards meant nothing if he hadn’t worked for them.
He rinsed the blade under running water. “It’s early. Why don’t we eat before we start in on this?”
Lola’s jaw tingled. The thought of eating breakfast food with him withered her insides. During their French toast meal the first night, her walls had begun to crumble—she’d even found herself happy despite how she’d gotten there. Reliving that would be more intimate than sleeping by his side. “I’m not hungry.”
Beau splashed water on his jaw and, without warning, pulled the towel from around his waist. Lola swallowed her gasp before it escaped. She kept her eyes up, but it was nearly impossible not to peek.
He held her gaze as he patted his face dry, walked over and kissed her head. “Just coffee then,” he said on his way out of the bathroom. “I already have some brewing.”
When she was alone, she released her breath. She had to keep it together. This was the equivalent of entering his conference room to negotiate, and that’d been his first power play. Knowing him, there was more coming.
Lola returned to the bedroom, glancing around. Any trace she’d been there before then was gone. There was no lipstick on the comforter, and her beaded dress had been cleaned up. Beau’d probably thought removing her from his life was as easy as calling for maid service.
She went to the balcony and snuggled into her robe. It’d been out there, in the middle of their second night, that it’d hit her how much she’d already given Beau. It turned out, though, she hadn’t given him anything. He’d taken it.
She rubbed her hands over her biceps. In that spot, Beau had held her so tightly, as if he’d thought she might disappear right before his eyes.
What if she had? What if one moment she’d been there, and the next she was gone, leaving him holding on to nothing but air?
“What’re you thinking about?” Beau asked from behind her.
Lola loo
ked back at him. He had two mugs in his hands and, thankfully, pajama pants on his body. “Why?”
“You’re tense.”
Lola forced her shoulders down from around her ears. Beau was a man who took great care when dealing with his adversaries, but she didn’t have the resources or the practice he did. Honesty was one of her only weapons. “I was thinking about the last time we were out here. I was scared.”
“Scared?” he repeated.
“Things were happening so fast. I was falling for you, and suddenly I realized that I didn’t have to stop it. That I could fall, because—”
She stopped to let Beau’s imagination fill in the blanks. At the same time, she pushed herself to relive those moments and tap into the pain that would fuel her.
He came up behind her. She sucked in a breath. Out of instinct, her muscles locked up. His touch could threaten her focus, and she could never forget that.
He set their coffee on the railing and wrapped her in his arms. “You’re shivering.”
“Am I?” She hadn’t realized it.
“What were you going to say?” he prompted. “You could let yourself fall, because…”
Lola wanted to steady herself on the railing, but she couldn’t move while he held her that hard. She closed her eyes and returned to Beau’s arms that night, under the stars where an unexpected love bloomed inside her. She didn’t fight the memory. She used it. “I was going to change my entire life for you. It was terrifying and risky, but you made me feel safe. For a few hours, at least.”
He rubbed his smooth cheek against hers. She missed the scruff. “I told you if you left Johnny, I’d be here,” he said. “And here I am. I think I had to lose you in order to learn the truth.”
“What’s the truth?”
Explicitly Yours Series Page 40