The Beckett Boys- The Complete Series Box Set

by Olivia Chase

I stand, my chest tight, hot tears welling in the backs of my eyes. He’s just drunk, I tell myself. This isn’t his personality. “You don’t need to talk to me that way,” I say down at the top of his head. He still won’t look at me. “I’m going upstairs.”

  “I don’t care what you do,” he says sullenly. “Just stay the hell out of my face.” He reaches over to the coffee table and grabs his beer can.

  Fury hits me hard, and I snatch it out of his hand. “Stop drinking! You’re making this worse!” The words fly out of me.

  His eyes finally glare up at mine. I can see how livid he is…and how wasted. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy. “Give. That. Back.”

  I stomp into the kitchen to pour it down the sink.

  “Whitney,” Mom says in a warning voice. “You’re poking the bear.”

  “I don’t care.” The liquid glugs as the can drains. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure everyone can hear it. “He doesn’t need to be drinking anymore.”

  “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!” Dad yells. “This is my fucking house, and these are my fucking rules, and I can drink a beer any time I fucking want!”

  Mom’s face is tight as she spins to face him. “Go to bed. You need to sleep this off. You’ve already been hurtful to both of us.”

  “Aw, poor things. Like either of you give a shit about my feelings. I just got fucking fired,” Dad lashes back.

  My body shakes. I can’t deal with this anymore. I grab my purse and stomp to the door, fingers fumbling for the knob.

  “And where the hell are you going?” Dad asks.

  I don’t answer. I whip it open, slam it closed behind me, then begin walking up the sidewalk away from the house. My head aches, and the tears I fought back start to fall, dissolving my vision. Sobs erupt from me, one after another.

  Why does he act like this? I hug my arms around my torso and walk. When I get to the corner of the block, I sit down on the sidewalk and reach into my purse for my phone. My fingers are so shaky it’s hard to text. But I manage to send Asher a message.

  Come get me plz

  My car keys are in the house, and I can’t go back there. Not right now. Not for a while. The sheer hostility in his voice haunts me. He’s never talked to me that way before. I’ve seen him yell at Mom, though.

  I gulp in breaths and attempt to calm myself down. Wrap my arms around my legs and tuck my face against my knees. I’m not sure how much time passes, but it can’t have been too much when there’s a gentle hand pressing on my back.

  “Whitney,” Asher says from above me. He scoops me up, and I fall against him, letting the sobs out. “Shh, baby, it’s okay,” he nurtures, guiding me to the passenger side of the car. I curl up in the seat, the tears streaming down, my heart hurting badly.

  “He’s so…he’s so drunk, and he was yelling at me and Mom…” I manage to say.

  Asher’s free hand grips mine as he drives away. “It’s okay. I’ll take you to my house.”

  “I can’t go back there.” I don’t want to. The thought of being around my father like this makes my stomach turn.

  “You don’t have to. You’ll stay with me as long as you fucking need to.” His voice is adamant. His hand tightens around my fingers. “What did he do? Did he hit you?”

  I shake my head. “No…he just yelled…” I sniffle and try to draw in slow breaths to calm myself down. I’m away from the house now, and I don’t need to listen to him.

  “Your dad’s got a pretty good temper,” Asher says, his other hand gripping the steering wheel. “I’ve seen it at Outlaws a couple of times. Broke up a fight he got into with someone once.”

  A bitter laugh erupts from me. “I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. And I’m tired of it.”

  “Do you want me to take care of it? I can talk to him.” The words are delivered in an easy manner, but I can hear the weight of what he’s saying.

  When Beckett boys “talk” to someone, there are usually more than just words involved. As mad as I am at my dad, him getting into an altercation with Asher isn’t going to help anything. “No, I just want to lay down and forget about this for a while.”

  Asher pulls up to the apartment he shares with Jax. Runs over to my side of the car and opens the door. With gentle hands, he eases me out of the passenger seat. I feel fragile, like I could break apart at any moment, and he seems to sense it, guiding me to the apartment. We walk past Jax and Brooklyn curled up on the couch.

  “Hey, Whitney,” Brooklyn says to me. Her eyes turn sad when she sees my face. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

  I offer her a watery smile and sniffle. “I’m…”

  “We’re headed to my room,” Asher says, cupping my elbow and leading me past them into his bedroom. He closes the door, and I sit on the edge of the bed. My body is heavy and tired, my soul feeling defeated. I hate that my dad’s anger, his drunkenness, have this power over me.

  “Shh,” Asher soothes, drawing me back to lie on the pillow with him, tucking me against his side. “You’re safe here.”

  I shudder and snuggle closer. After a few quiet minutes of him stroking my hair, the sadness in my chest eases, and guilt settles in. “I left my mom there.”

  “I asked my buddy Rob to keep an eye on your house. If he hears anything, he’s going to take care of it. She’ll be okay, I promise.” He kisses my brow and thumbs my tears away, tilting my chin up. His eyes are heavy with concern.

  “Thank you,” I say to him, grateful for the help. Rob’s a good guy and he lives nearby. I exhale and look up at Asher. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to do, and I couldn’t go back in there.”

  “You aren’t going back until you’re ready to,” he vows. “Just try to let that go and relax right now, okay?” His other hand, wrapped around me, is making slow swirls on my back.

  I close my eyes and sink into the touch.

  Asher groans. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He shifts to his side to face me, and I feel his arousal pressing against my belly. But he doesn’t make any sexual advances.

  I need him to, though. I need him to help distract me. To give me something positive to focus on. I tilt my head up a touch more and brush my lips on his. He sighs against my mouth, opens to me for a moment. When he tries to pull away, I dart a hand up to his neck and tug him back.

  “You’re upset,” he says in a guttural tone. He’s trying hard to restrain himself, but his fingers are exploring my curves.

  “Kiss me,” I breathe. “Please, Asher.”

  Thankfully, he doesn’t argue, just does as I ask. Takes my mouth in a sweltering-hot kiss. I breathe him in, his scent, his taste. He groans, swiping his tongue along my teeth, my own tongue, and I gasp and press my body closer to him.

  Our fingers search frantically for flesh beneath clothes, his hands sliding up along my heated skin. He squeezes my right breast over my bra cup, and I groan with pleasure.

  “I need you inside me,” I tell him. “Now, Asher. I need you.”

  “Fuck, kitten,” he murmurs against my mouth, and then his hands take control and he begins to tug my clothes off. My shirt is gone in a flash, then my jeans. He yanks me to my back and leans down to suckle my apex through my panties.

  I’m already wet, my pulse throbbing everywhere, my limbs aching to wrap around him. I arch under his expert touch. He lifts up for a moment and grips my panties on the side, ripping the fabric in two.

  I shudder in shock and arousal at how hot that was.

  Asher opens his bedside drawer and drops the ruined panties in them, then grabs a condom. Strips his clothes off and rolls the condom on. His body is beautiful, strong, muscled, and he’s so big, so powerful, so in control on top of me.

  I part my legs and take off my bra, tossing it to the ground, and then Asher is pushing inside me, and I gasp and pant and clutch his shoulders.

  “Fuck,” he groans, taking my mouth in a wet kiss. He bites my nipple, and my core flutters in response to the flash of pain. “I
want to make you come so hard for me, Whitney.”

  “Yes,” I breathe. I shift my pelvis so he can take me deeper.

  Asher pounds me relentlessly, his cock making my arousal spike and my body soar. The orgasm hits me like a freight train, and I start to scream when he smothers my mouth with his, swallowing my cries. My entire body is on fire, enveloped in this burning passion between us, my nipples aching.

  It doesn’t take long for Asher to follow me, his body stiffening, and then he tosses his head back and thrusts one last, rough time. I can see the corded muscles of his neck freeze while he spurts in me. Then he gasps and drops down on top of me, his skin damp with sweat, his chest heaving.

  “Fuck, Whitney, you’re so damn sexy,” he pants against my brow.

  I’m nothing more than a pile of orgasmic bliss right now. I close my eyes and let myself sink into the relaxation. “Thank you for that,” I whisper.

  “Anything for you.”

  The words, softly delivered, strike me right in the heart, and I feel them warm me with a different kind of glow. God, I’m starting to fall for Asher all over again, against my better judgment. I guess really that I never stopped wanting him, loving him. I just told myself I did. Tried to will myself into having no romantic feelings.

  That’s the last thought on my mind as I’m tugged into deep sleep.

  The next week passes in a surprisingly steady manner. The morning after I fled from my parents’ house, my dad left a voicemail on my cell phone. I deleted it without listening. If he called to chew me out for how shit went down, I didn’t want to hear it, didn’t deserve it. And I wasn’t ready for any apologies, either.

  I told Mom where I was staying, until I figured out what I wanted to do or when I was ready to come home, and she said she understood. She told me when Dad was out of the house so I could swing by and get belongings and toiletries, plus my car keys.

  Asher was beside me the whole time.

  We’ve settled into a regular routine. It’s…cozy. A girl could get used to sleeping beside him, waking up in his arms, passionate sex with orgasm after orgasm. The man loves to go down on me.

  The more time I spend with him, the more I crave him. It’s become my goal to make him smile and laugh. To see the spark in his eyes as he looks at me. I’m addicted to Asher Bennett, no denying it. Addicted and falling for him big-time.

  How does he feel about me? I just don’t know. We haven’t discussed anything romantic, haven’t clarified our relationship at all.

  But after what happened with my dad, I’m doubly determined to go to school in January. I just gotta get through the rest of fall and finish this year off, and then I’ll be good to go. I’m even gonna work out where I can stay during summer break so I don’t have to move back home.

  I’m done with that shit.

  I reach into my bag and dig out my work uniform. Since we’re moving into colder months, we’re allowed to wear tight black pants instead of the tiny shorts. So I slip mine on and put on my top.

  Asher comes up behind me and cups the undersides of my breasts. Squeezes gently. “Fuck, kitten. This shirt makes your tits look insanely hot.”

  I close my eyes and lean back against him, savoring the feel of his hands on me. “I’ll wear it every day if you keep doing that.”

  His growl and the small nip at my ear tells me he’s getting turned on. I press my ass against his crotch and wiggle a little, and he grips my waist. “You’re playing with fire. Keep doing that, and you’ll be late for work.”

  God, I’d love to be. I’d love to cut work and stay in bed with Asher, who doesn’t have to be at Outlaws until later this evening. But I need all the money I can save up, now more than ever.

  I spin around and give him a hot kiss. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

  He slides his hands down to my ass, then presses openmouthed kisses to my throat. Licks the flesh there. My skin comes alive under his ministrations. “Mmmmm.” He edges away, his eyes heavy-lidded. “You’d better go before I start undressing you.”

  I drive to work, then start my shift. Customers are the same as they always are. Some are cool, and some are jerks. But the day goes fast. I take my break, sagging against the brick wall outside, drawing in the cool October air.

  Halloween is coming soon. Asher told me some of his friends are having a party…and that he wants me to come with him. I close my eyes for a moment and smile. If we are dating, this might make me his longest-running whatever the hell we are. I don’t remember any previous girls lasting more than a month.

  And we’re getting closer with each passing day.

  I check the time on my phone then head back in to finish my shift. My feet are throbbing by the time I’m ready to call it a day. I finish up and tell everyone bye, then head to my car.

  And stop.

  My dad is leaning against it, hands shoved into his jeans, a crease across his brow. He looks tired. Sad. His eyes are wary as he looks at me.

  I sigh. I don’t want to deal with this right now, but I guess I’ve been running from it long enough. I grab my keys from my purse.

  “Hey,” he says in his low voice.

  “Hi.” My own voice is flat in response. I can’t help but remember what happened the last time I saw him. The hateful things he said to me and Mom. It was messed up, and I won’t be forgetting it anytime soon.

  “Whitney, I’m sorry.” Dad sucks in a slow breath and exhales hard. “I…” He looks away, staring off into the distance. “I hit rock bottom that night. And I’m ashamed of myself. I drank so much, I don’t remember everything I said to you and your mom.”

  I want to snark at him and say I’m not surprised, but I’m also afraid to start an argument. “I don’t want to do this here,” I tell him instead.

  “I’m not trying to force you to talk. I just wanted you to know…I’m going a way for a little bit.”

  My heart heaves. “You and Mom are splitting up?” I don’t know how I feel about that, to be honest.

  “No, I’m going to a rehab center.” He scrubs the back of his neck and looks at me. “I messed up big-time. I’ve got a problem, and I’m the only one who can fix it. You guys deserve better than this. And once I get out, I’ll find a new job. Start all over again. Your mom and I talked for a long time, and she’s glad I’m doing this.” He sighs again, a weary sound, and his eyes ache with sadness. “I treated you both so wrongly. Not just that night, but other times. And I’m so sorry.” He’s stiff as he steps away from my car toward me.

  I bite my lower lip, emotion surging through me. “You hurt me. You were so cruel.” My voice breaks on the last word.

  “God, I’m so sorry for everything,” Dad says, wrapping me in his arms.

  I can’t remember the last time my dad hugged me. He’s not a physically affectionate man. To have him doing so right now, to hear him sniffling with his own unshed tears, breaks my heart, and I hug him back.

  We stay like that for several long moments, then pull away.

  “It’ll be good for you to do this,” I tell him. “They can help you.”

  “I know. I can’t do this on my own. I accept that.” Dad’s face looks resolute, his chin tilted up as he stares at the sky. “I’m ready to fix myself. Things can’t keep going this way, for any of us.” He peers back down to me and moves away. “I’ll be gone for a month, and when I get back, there will be more outpatient work for me to do. But this will get me started on the right path.” He pauses. “I may not remember everything I said, but your mom told me the worst of it. And just so you know—I don’t think you’re a nag. You’re a good person, and I love you.” These last words are whispered, his voice strained with emotion.

  I nod, tears sliding down my cheeks. I sniffle and wipe them away.

  Dad smiles and heads to his car, driving off. I watch him go and stand there for another minute, then get in my own car. Time to collect my stuff from Asher’s place and get back to my house.

  Asher

  The next couple o
f weeks fly by in a flutter of busyness. Jax and Brooklyn spend all their spare time planning their wedding, which will be the week before Christmas. Smith and Aubrey continue working on renovating Outlaws, hiring more employees and expanding the menu. Word has gotten out about the change in our place, and people are flocking to the bar.

  Instead of the parking lot being filled with mostly motorcycles or beat-up rides, there are family cars there now, sports cars. Fucking SUVs.

  It’s insane. Dad’s probably rolling over in his grave at the drastic difference. Then again, as Smith has said before, he’s more likely happy that the bar is still alive and thriving instead of barely making it every month.

  Also, Jax and Smith aren’t on me anymore about quitting school. In fact, they both are asking me to carry more of the load at the bar. Smith’s even cracked a few jokes with me. The tension that has been between us for weeks has faded away.

  It’s good to be back with my brothers. Life is starting to feel stable, comfortable, normal.

  When I’m not working my ass off, I’m with Whitney. She moved back into her home after her dad left for rehab. I’m glad she’s doing okay—while I may not be crazy about the rehab concept, having seen enough people in my life try it and fail, it makes her family feel better about his earnestness in changing.

  I key the door to Outlaws and flick on the lights. Time to get the show rolling—it’s Halloween week, and Rock Bridge takes the holiday seriously with weeklong celebrating. Every bar and restaurant in the area is gonna have good profit.

  As long as we do better than Foley’s, I’m good. Old rivalries die hard. I keep trying to sweet-talk Whitney into giving me company secrets or info, but she just rolls her eyes and slugs me.

  I’m checking inventory when I hear Smith’s footsteps thudding down the stairs. He opens the door that leads from the bar to the hallway of his upstairs apartment, then comes inside, wearing a black T-shirt and faded jeans.

  “’Sup, brother?” I say, opening the register to count the money.

  “My dick.” Smith smirks and walks back to the office.