Explicitly Yours Series

by Jessica Hawkins

  “This isn’t over. I can’t take back what I did, but I should’ve told you everything before you found out that way. When you wouldn’t listen, I got angry. I can’t seem to figure out how to give up some control without losing it entirely.”

  Lola opened her eyes. The mountains were indigo shadows that seemed impossibly far away. In the time she’d known Beau, he’d always been very aware—of himself, of her. How could he not have seen the pettiness of what he’d done, the sheer egoism of it? He’d stood to gain real love and a life that centered around something other than work. Instead, he’d thrown it away in the name of pride. That was something she couldn’t explain to him, though. It would have to be a lesson learned.

  “I can’t just pretend nothing happened,” Lola said.

  “I don’t expect you to. I know I have a lot to make up for.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “So you’re willing to try?”

  Beau took a mug of coffee and handed it to her. Instead of picking his up, he returned his arm around her. “If you’re willing to take it day by day. This is new territory for me, but I’m a fast learner. You know I’ll do what it takes to fix it.”

  Lola did know. If her forgiveness was his prize, then he would make it his. It was an impossible feat, she knew. But he didn’t. It would drive Beau even more, sink him in deeper. “When do we start?”

  “We already have.” It sounded like he was smiling. “I work on Saturdays, but I’ll leave it for Monday. You’re my queen this weekend.”

  “And after this weekend?”

  “We go home.”

  “Home?” she asked. “As in…?”

  Beau took an arm off her to drink some coffee. “As in you, where I am, when I wake up, when I go to sleep. When I leave for work, when I get back.”

  Lola felt like she’d eaten cotton. So little time had passed, it was hard not to still want that with Beau—home. A life, a future. For him to forgo his work to spend time with her was his highest compliment. But with her wounds so fresh, she was a slave to her pain, and it ran deep. This wasn’t a new life with him. It was a chance to be by Beau’s side every morning and every night. To get so deep under his skin, he couldn’t rid himself of her. To bring down the walls around his heart so she could hold it in her palm, exposed and unprotected. It wouldn’t be easy to love the devil, but she could do it if it meant sending him to hell where he belonged.

  “I want that too,” she said.

  “Good. You know I’d get my way even if you didn’t.”

  He was teasing her, so she laughed lightly.

  “Now that that’s settled,” he continued, his voice hardening, “how about enlightening me to your thought process when you left my room yesterday morning.”

  “Yesterday morning?” Lola took a sip from her mug, stalling. Abrupt, probing inquiries like that needed consideration before answering.

  “Warner said you walked home from the hotel.”

  “That’s right. Yes, I did.”

  “It was still dark.” He waited a moment, as if that warranted a response. “Well? What in the hell made you think that was a good idea?”

  She squinted out at the skyline. “I had to blow off some steam.”

  “You couldn’t have done that in the back of a car?”

  “No.” Lola shifted on her feet. There was an edge to both their voices. This was too familiar to them, and they slipped into their battles easily. He’d been putty in her hands for a moment, but she should’ve known he wouldn’t allow that very long. “Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know,” he said in a tone that conveyed he definitely did know. “Maybe because we were robbed at gunpoint a few hours before that. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like safety would’ve been pretty high on your list of priorities.”

  “Does it matter? I made it in one piece.” She sniffed. As if he had any right to worry about her after he’d cast her aside so carelessly. “Anyway, I didn’t have a choice. I needed to be alone.”

  “With no cell phone and no credit cards. In the dark.” The air around them thickened. “It gets me worked up again just thinking about it.”

  “Does it?” Lola continued to look forward, carefully tucking it all away for later. His cares, concerns, triggers. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I had plenty of cash, thanks to you.”

  “Are you fucking kidding? People have killed over far less money than what you had in your hands.” He removed his arm from her. “Where’s that money now?”

  Lola turned around and leaned back against the banister. “Downstairs in my room. I fit as much as I could in the safe, but—”

  “Jesus Christ, Lola.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “That money needs to go in the bank yesterday. You’re asking for trouble carrying that kind of cash around.”

  “You’re right.” Lola set down her mug and put her arms around his neck. There was no way in hell she was loosening her grip on the one thing keeping her afloat. That money was all she had left. “I’ll do it soon.”

  “Not soon. You’ll do it Monday. And today, we’re getting you a new phone. You can’t be without one.”

  “I don’t mind being out of touch, actually.” Lola had to stop herself from grinning. Toying with Beau had always been fun, no matter how she’d felt about him. “It’s so refreshing to be free from the chains of society for once—”

  “I’ll stop you right there,” Beau said, removing her hands from him by her wrists. “You’re getting a phone today. It’ll be our first errand. Then we’ll see about getting you a temporary credit card until we can get you a real one. I’ll give you one of mine too, but you should have a couple in your name just in case—”

  “Beau, don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit—?”

  “No. Look at me.” Lola lifted her eyes to his and waited. He pulled her hands back to his chest, right over his heart. “Yesterday, even though I thought I’d never see you again, it still drove me insane knowing you were out there with nothing. Don’t fight me on this. Without a cell phone or credit card, anything could happen to you, and I wouldn’t even know.”

  Lola’s heart jumped into her throat.

  “It drove me insane…out there with nothing…I wouldn’t even know…”

  Beau had reassured her that he never backtracked on his decisions. Never changed his mind. When he wanted something, he took it. Always. But what would happen if the thing he wanted most slipped right through his fingers—and not even his fortune could get it back?

  Lola had the motive to bring Beau to his knees, and she had the means to make it happen. All she needed now to complete the puzzle was Beau’s heart in her palm.

  She stepped even closer to him and looked into his fiery, green eyes. Gently, she twisted her hands out of his grip to reach up and cup his face. And what a face it was—the kind a girl could get lost in if she didn’t know any better. “If that’s what you want, Beau, then I’ll do it. I trust you.”

  Beau kissed the insides of her hands. Any bitterness left his expression as his features softened.

  Beau loved to play—to hunt his prey. That must’ve been because he’d never lost.

  Maybe someone ought to beat him at his own game. Maybe then he wouldn’t think it was so fun.

  16

  Present day

  Beau wasn’t home at seven o’clock for his big surprise date with Lola—he was home earlier. His last meeting had been a homerun despite being distracted and had put him on track to close a lucrative deal. As if he hadn’t already been riled thinking of all the things he’d finally get to do to Lola, making money always gave him a buzz. He’d waited her out—not patiently, but he’d waited—and he didn’t want to miss a minute of their evening together.

  Now, he was perched on their bed while Lola finished getting ready. She came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped securely under her armpits.

  “Come on,” Beau said, practically falling off the edge of the mattress. “Just give me a sneak peek.”


  She smiled. “You only have a few hours left. Your reward will be that much sweeter if you wait.”

  She’d been stubborn from the start, but Christ did it frustrate him in the best way possible. Night after night, sleeping next to her, sharing a bathroom and a bedroom with her, and she’d only slipped once. He’d been clinging to that memory like a castaway to a raft.

  “You’re a tough negotiator,” Beau said, following her with his eyes until she disappeared into the closet.

  “It isn’t a negotiation,” she called. “You broke the terms of our agreement once. Do it again, and it’ll be the last time.”

  “If you’re trying to torture me, it’s working. Hearing you talk business gets me even harder.”

  She leaned out of the closet, giving him a glimpse of her naked shoulder and the outer curve of her breast. “Why? It reminds you of that morning Johnny and I came to your conference room?”

  Beau licked his lips. He was as close to having her now as he had been that day. She’d sat across the table from him, statue-like, but once in a while, her face would flicker with hurt or embarrassment when Johnny spoke—or when he was decidedly quiet. All Beau had gotten from her was anger. “Would it upset you if it did?”

  “No.” She ran her finger along the edge of the doorway. “Maybe one day you can fuck me on that table.”

  Beau had been teasing about getting hard, but her dirty talk was an alarm to his sleeping cock. Beau resisted standing up. He wasn’t sure he could keep himself in check. “Let’s skip dinner.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been planning tonight for a while. Besides, I’m hungry.”

  “Give me sixty seconds, and you’ll forget the meaning of the word.”

  “Sixty seconds?” She grinned and returned into the closet. “Is that what I have to look forward to?”

  “It would serve you right after keeping me on edge for so long.”

  A dresser drawer rolled open, then closed with a wooden thump. He was more tempted than ever to sneak in and steal a look at her white breasts and long, tight tummy. He’d showered after work, but already he could use another cold one.

  Beau was in love with her, at least he was pretty sure of it, and that feeling was strongest in moments like this one. For a woman who’d worn as many jeans-and-shirt combos in her life as Beau had suits, she was completely at ease in the things he picked out for her. He could just sit and watch, and he never had the urge to walk away. If any other woman had told him ‘look don’t touch’ night after night, Beau would’ve laughed at her on his way out the door.

  Lola came out in a structured black trench coat. “Do you like it?” she asked with a twirl, her high heels’ red soles flashing.

  She could’ve been wearing a nun’s habit, and he would’ve said yes. The coat cinched at her waist, all hips and breasts. She’d pulled the collar up around her neck. It was buttoned all the way, but her long, bare legs invited him to look.

  “Can I see the dress?” he asked.

  “Not yet.” She walked over to the bed, bent over and pressed a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Soon.”

  She straightened up to walk away. He grabbed her wrist, and her head jerked in his direction, her lips splitting apart as if he’d startled her. It took a second, but her mouth spread into some mutation of a smile. She slid her hand through his and walked into the bathroom, promising, “Five more minutes, then we can go.”

  Five minutes sounded like a lifetime. Anything longer felt impossible. He’d waited long enough for her. From where he sat, he could see her bent over the sink putting in her earrings. Seeing her in that position again made his brain foggy. He could easily fuck her over the bathroom counter before dinner. He wouldn’t last long anyway. An appetizer. Then, later, the main course—taking his time unwrapping her, tracing the lines of her curves with his hands and lips.

  Beau blew out a sigh. He’d thought he’d been patient their first two nights together by not taking her the moment the sun had set. He’d had no idea what was in store for him.

  Lola came out of the bathroom and held her hand out, rescuing both of them from him. “Ready?”

  * * *

  Beau raised his wineglass over the table. “To you,” he said to Lola.

  She made no move to pick up her drink. “Why me?”

  “Because there’s nothing more worthy of toasting. Unless you have a better idea?”

  “Us.” She spun the wineglass between her fingers on the tablecloth. “And the end of a very difficult journey.”

  “That’s not how I see it. In a few minutes, my patience over the last few weeks will earn me a great reward.”

  She grinned. “We are not having sex in a few minutes. We haven’t even eaten yet.”

  Beau sighed. “Fine. A few hours. Whatever. Regardless, tonight isn’t an ending. It’s the start of a life we’ve both deserved for a long time.”

  “To that—exactly.” She clinked her wine with his, and they each took a sip. “Thank you for giving Warner the night off like I asked.”

  “I told you I’d let you plan your night. Brigitte needs the company anyway.”

  Lola raised her eyebrows. “He’s been spending a lot of time at her apartment.”

  “Someone has to, and it’s not going to be me. All my free time goes to someone else.”

  “Who?” Lola asked. “Because it isn’t me.”

  Beau cleared his throat. He couldn’t tell if she was joking. He understood that his schedule bothered her, but what he couldn’t comprehend was why. Every day he’d worked the past ten years—and every hour he worked now—was for her, even if he hadn’t known it. He went in early and he stayed late to give her more and more and more. “I do my best.”

  “Do you? She has a point about Warner, you know. If you’d ever sent him home to eat dinner with me because you couldn’t make it, I can tell you right now, it would not have gone over well.”

  Beau put his glass down. “What neither you nor Brigitte seems to get is that if I don’t give my job one-hundred-and-ten percent, there’d be no Warner. There’d be no five-thousand square foot house to come home to. No extra bedrooms for a family, no cinema or pool—”

  Lola shifted backward in her seat, her eyebrows needling together. “A family?”

  Beau maintained eye contact the way he would if he’d slipped up in a meeting. It wasn’t like children were at all prevalent in his day-to-day thoughts, but some abstract idea of a family had crossed his mind since Lola had moved in. He leaned his elbows on the table. “I’m making a point.”

  She looked at her lap. “Have I made you feel like I wouldn’t be happy without those things?”

  “Which things?”

  “A big house and a chauffeur. A closet full of expensive clothing.”

  He didn’t mean to glance at her new coat, but he did. She noticed. “I love the coat on you. I want to give you beautiful things.” He was uncomfortable, but she looked at ease. He never knew how to take it when she got angry with him for spending money on her. “Why don’t you take it off, show me your new dress? You don’t need a coat in here.”

  “There is no dress.”

  He looked at her a second longer, then back at the coat. No dress? One layer of fabric sat between him and heaven? “You mean…?”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re good at changing the subject?”

  He pressed his lips together, jolted from the fantasy of what he’d find when he untied her belt, slipped each button open. He backtracked into the argument from the coat to beautiful things to her being possibly—unhappy?

  “Lola, it makes me feel good to give you that life. It’s a labor of love. Otherwise, what’ve I worked for all this time?”

  After another delicate sip of wine, she said, “You were fine before I came along.”

  “I was fine.” Beau nodded. He reached out, pulled her hand across the table, held it tightly in his. He’d mostly only seen her with nerves of steel, so her clammy palm felt foreign. She still wasn
’t acting like herself. Perhaps he hadn’t given her the comfort she’d needed to do what she was about to do—open up to him again. “Now, I’m not fine. I’m so much more. I’m happy, Lola. Because of you. Because I—”

  Lola jerked her hand back and coughed into it. She cleared her throat a couple times and drank water, droplets falling onto the tablecloth. “I’m sorry. It’s the wine. It makes my throat dry.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, look—our food.”

  The waiter set down Lola’s steak. Beau didn’t take his eyes off her, but she examined her plate so hard, he wondered if she was avoiding him.

  “Looks delicious,” she said. “This place had great reviews.”

  Beau opened his mouth to finish what he’d been about to say, but she took a bite. He’d be damned if he told her he loved her for the first time while she had a mouthful of tenderloin. He picked up his fork and knife and cut into his T-bone, deciding to wait until later when they were home in bed. He figured there was no better time to tell her than right before she made herself most vulnerable to him.

  He continued to watch her as he chewed. He did love her. It wasn’t easy for him to say, never really had been, which was why he’d been trying to tell her in other ways. He’d gotten her tickets to the ballet because she’d told him how she’d taken lessons all through her childhood. That, and it was another excuse to take her out, show her off.

  They ate silently. Beau didn’t mind. The less talking they did, the faster they’d finish and get home. It was all he could do not to rip the fork out of her hand and hurry her to the car.

  As soon as Beau had wiped his mouth with his napkin and dropped it on his plate, the waiter appeared. He must’ve sensed Beau’s animal need to get the fuck out of there.

  “Can I interest you in any dessert?”

  “We’re in a hurry.”

  “I’ll bring the check, and…?”

  Lola nodded up at him. He inclined his head and walked away. She took a compact mirror from her purse and reapplied her lipstick.

  “What was that with the waiter?” Beau asked.