by Kira Blakely
“Cat-a-pillah!” Penny squeaked back.
The Hungry Caterpillar. I’d read it to her several times, and it always calmed her down for a little while. Every night was still a struggle though. She’d moan and weep for an hour, and if I was unlucky, she’d fly into a full-blown tantrum. Other nights, she’d finally drift off, but wake up and scream in the night. Scream for her daddy and mommy.
“Have a nice nap, Penny. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Beckett whispered.
“Beck poo. Stay.”
“In the next room,” he replied. A beat, and then footsteps trundled toward the corridor.
I backed away and toward my bedroom door, turned, and took hold of the knob. Penny would sleep, now, and I couldn’t spend another second in the same room with Beckett without totally selling out.
It already grated at me that I had to accept his help with Penny. It went against everything I’d tried to prove—that I could do this on my own. Without anyone. Just two girls against the world.
“You need a nap, too?” Beckett asked, behind me.
I needed a cold shower and a glass of wine after today. “No. I need to be alone,” I said. “I’ll make dinner in a bit.”
“You cook?” He snorted.
I’d only just started learning, but I looked back at him over my shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Yes. Is that so shocking?”
Beckett laughed. “Yes, it’s shocking.”
“If you’re staying, there’s a TV in the den down the hall. I don’t use it, so it might be dusty.”
He stared at me again with those devil eyes.
I entered my bedroom and shut the door behind me with a click, turned the key in the lock, not because Beckett would come in without an invitation—never, he wasn’t that type of devil—but because I didn’t trust myself not to go out there.
I removed the key and walked it to my dresser, put it there.
“What’s happening?” I whispered. “What’s actually happening?” This wasn’t how life was supposed to be. I’d sort of grown accustomed to Penny, now. Things weren’t easy, but I’d managed. I’d figured out a few systems to keep things running. Not smoothly, but running nevertheless.
I couldn’t handle Beckett Price in my house. This was too much.
I walked to my bed and lay down on it, stared up at the ceiling, offering a silent prayer to whatever powers there were to help me. To please help me before I lost my mind.
Going back down this road with Beckett was out of the question.
But pressed up against a wall, his dick against my belly, his gaze consuming me, it was so easy to forget the question, to forget everything but the heat that curled through me and demanded more.
It wasn’t just insane lust for this irresistible man.
It was that deeper connection we’d forged in high school and college. Letters from my next-door neighbor. Shared glances.
His bedroom had faced mine. He’d stripped naked in front of the open window several times, well aware I could see him. I’d never done the same, though I’d been so tempted. Once, I’d shut my curtains on him to get the point across that I wasn’t interested.
My brother’s best friend was off limits. So was my heart.
And then the letters had started, our secret notes, and I’d started losing my mind for this guy. On paper, he was a mixture of arrogance and softness. On paper, Beckett had asked about me, about what I wanted. He’d cared.
But paper Beckett wasn’t the real Beckett.
That guy was out there, probably laughing at how he’d teased me all over again.
I closed my eyes and tried washing him from my thoughts. Penny was important. Once we were on our feet, I’d start a business and work from home, and I’d teach her things. I’d find her a preschool. We’d be happy. No Beckett.
He appeared in my mind, and I was pressed up against the wall again.
Except this time, we were naked, and his dick—I’d only glimpsed it before—was hard and throbbing against my skin. His gaze caught mine, forehead pressed to me, noses touching, lips so close all over again.
“Oh god,” I whispered.
My pussy ached for him, and back in my bedroom, out of that fantasy, I slipped my fingers beneath the waistband of my jeans and into the silky underwear I’d put on that morning. I dragged them over my gash and gasped at the sensation, collecting the wetness there and spreading it upward and over my clit.
I was swollen for him again. This had happened too many times in the past, and it always ended like this.
The fantasy demanded my attention.
Beckett’s lips still didn’t touch mine. It was as if the real Beckett was in my head, teasing me still, refusing to give me what I wanted.
Instead, he slapped his palm to the meat of my thigh and lifted it. I looked down at the space between us and the massive cock there, circumcised, dripping pre-cum for me. For me!
“Hold still,” he said.
I did as I was told, watching as the head of that dick neared my entrance, as the fingers of his free hand parted my pussy lips wide, displaying the pinkness, the glistening readiness for him.
He teased me with his head, pressing it in and then sliding it out, never letting it deep enough. “You want this, don’t you, O?”
“Yes. Give it to me.”
“That’s no way to ask,” he replied, and continued teasing.
I was past waiting now. I needed him.
I timed it perfectly, waited until he dipped his fat head into my pussy again, then arched my back and forced more of him in, grabbed both his ass cheeks, and held on.
“Christ,” he growled. “Olivia.”
I whined. “Fuck me. Fuck me, Beckett, fuck me hard.”
He pounded into my pussy, parted my lips, claimed me as he’d promised he would years ago. How could he be this big? It was impossible. My orgasm screamed toward me, demanded I break for him for the hundredth time in years.
And I did exactly that.
I jammed over the boundary, raised my hips, and clenched, moaned, planting my feet on the bed sheets in my bedroom, finger working my clit, while Beckett played my mind. I was blinded by him all over again. Destroyed.
After, I flopped back and rolled onto my side, closed my eyes for the nap I’d said I wouldn’t take.
I drifted off, his smell trapped in my nostrils, soft laughter in my ears. For once, it wasn’t mocking. It was Beckett happy. But it couldn’t be real.
Never.
Chapter 9
Beckett
The princess still hadn’t emerged from her bedroom. She’d clearly fallen asleep and, in the interim, Penny had already woken. I’d read her The Hungry Caterpillar, we’d played our little snorting game, and now, she sat in her high chair, munching on bits of carrot and tomato.
She was almost too big for that chair, but she didn’t complain, simply munched on another carrot piece and watched as I attached the magnetic lock to the drawer.
The sun had already chased past the horizon, and purple dusk filtered through the windows in the living room and crept into the kitchen. I clicked on the overhead light, then nodded.
All done. Crayons picked up, kitchen totally baby-proofed, same for the main bathroom, and the edges of the coffee table. The house wasn’t pristine, but it was better than it had been.
Apparently, Olivia believed cleaning entailed picking things up and rearranging them and not actually getting her precious fingers dirty.
“Dinner,” I said and tapped my chin with a finger. “You had pizza for lunch.” I directed that at Penny, who crunched another bite of her late afternoon snack. “So, that’s out for dinner.”
Mike would roll over in his grave if he saw me, now. I wasn’t this domestic dude. I was the ballbuster.
“Pizza,” Penny said and sprayed some masticated carrot onto her food tray.
“No pizza,” I replied and waggled my finger at her. “And no Chinese. And, before you ask, I’m not cooking either.”
Naturally, the
joke flew over her curly little head.
I might’ve baby proofed and tidied up, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to go full Stepford and cook, too. Not tonight, at least. Couldn’t let the princess—it was easier to call her that than O, now—know I had skills in more than one area.
She’d probably cream her jeans.
I searched the drawers for takeout menus and found several for the Health Nut. Christ, how many brochures did she need for this one place? I was into healthy eating on most days, but that was ridiculous.
“Beck poo.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said and winked at her. “I know. Kale isn’t a food group you’d like to explore any time soon. I agree with you on that, but there’s nowhere else to—”
The master bedroom’s door opened, and the smile dropped from my lips, immediately.
O trundled out—fuck it, the princess, the princess! Her cardigan was askew, her jeans wrinkled, and her hair flat to one side of her head. Pillow marks creased her cheek. “What time is it?” she croaked.
How was she gorgeous even now? With all the trappings of a bear fresh out of hibernation? It was beyond me.
“It’s past ten. You missed dinner,” I said.
“Liar,” she replied and nodded to the duskiness only now fading to black outside. She scuffled forward and planted a kiss on Penny’s forehead. The little girl gave her a gummy-carroty smile then returned to her snack.
Olivia fixed me with a stare. “You gave her food.”
“That’s generally what one does in these situations. Unless you expected me to let her cry her eyes out while you got your beauty sleep,” I replied, evenly.
“Do you always have to be such an—” She cut off and looked back at Penny. “Such an a-word? I wasn’t trying to catch beauty sleep. I fell asleep by accident.”
“Whatever helps you sleep during the middle of the day,” I quipped and returned my focus to the Health Nut brochure.
I was being an ass, but it was intentional. This afternoon had been dangerous. I’d been seconds from breaking every rule I had about her, simply because she was so irresistible. If this helped me push her away, so be it.
But the truth niggled me. She deserved her rest. She’d done everything for Penny the past month and struggled on alone. She’d only asked for help once.
“What did you do?” she asked.
I snapped my head up.
Olivia stared past me at the fridge and the latch on its side. “Did you do that?”
“No, it was the Tooth Fairy,” I replied and scanned the sheet again. Tempura bean sprouts? That surely wasn’t possible. I wasn’t about to eat anything from this place.
Olivia made a strange noise but nothing else. She pushed past me and examined the drawers, the magnetic latches on them. She opened them and closed them, then sighed. “Th-thank you,” she said, forcing the word out as if it tasted nasty on her tongue.
I grunted in reply.
“Seriously,” she replied. “I couldn’t get that done this morning. I tried, but it was difficult.”
Finally, I put down the brochure and met her gaze. “Should’ve just looked it up online. All the information’s out there, Olivia.”
“And we’re back to you being the a-word. You can’t just say it’s a pleasure?” she asked. “I swear, it’s like you’re missing a gene.”
“I’m missing the will to deal with…” I glanced at Penny. “Poo.” The word sounded hilarious from me, and Penny burst out laughing, spitting tomato seeds and juice this time. Her belly laugh instantly lightened the mood.
Even O chuckled.
“Poo,” Olivia repeated, and Penny’s hysterical laughter redoubled. “Speaking of which, has Penny asked to go potty this afternoon?’
I raised my palms. “That’s all on you,” I replied.
Olivia rolled her eyes, but they twinkled with mirth still. She busied herself with the coffee pot instead of answering me, stifling a yawn here and there.
I took the opportunity to admire her ass in those jeans, and that tapered waist beneath her wrinkled cardigan. The heart locket had slipped to the back of her silver chain in her sleep, and it dangled down her back now.
I walked up behind her and held it. Slowly, I worked it down the chain and back to the front, nestling the heart between her breasts, my breath on her neck. Again, I was in this position with her. Close contact. Need.
“Do you still have it?” I asked, softly.
Olivia was stiff again. “What?”
“You know what.” The picture I’d given her. The only one of us together, which I’d cut for her locket.
“No,” she replied. “I don’t have it. I threw it out years ago.” She moved away from me and toward the sink. The faucet switched on, and water gushed into the basin.
I shook my head and walked back to Penny’s chair. She’d snubbed me, and if I showed anger, it would equal weakness. I couldn’t believe, for a second, that she’d thrown out that picture.
Ten minutes later, the coffee was in mugs, and I slurped from one, silence growing again. Penny fiddled around in her playpen, I sat on the sofa watching her, and Olivia rummaged around in the fridge.
She’d insisted she’d make dinner. Hot dogs, apparently. Healthy cuisine at its finest.
I was out of place in this scene, sitting with my business suit and tie, my phone blowing up with angry calls from my publicist because I’d missed today’s meeting and desperate ones from my assistant, who wanted to arrange another for tomorrow. The messages were almost comical.
Every part of today had been wrong and right in so many different ways.
The phone on the wall rang, and Olivia answered it, muttering something indistinct. Two minutes later, a knock rat-tatted at the door.
“Just a second,” Olivia called out and dusted off her hands on a black-and-white apron that was too cute. Polka dots. She rushed past the back of the sofa, and I didn’t bother asking who it was.
It didn’t make a difference to me. As long as it wasn’t Bebe come to lead O off the straight and narrow. Or a man.
I clutched the cup too hard, and coffee splashed onto my suit pants. I snorted at the idiocy and put down the mug on the coffee table.
“There you are,” a woman’s voice carried from the front door. “We were worried about you when you ran out of Chuck E. Cheese this afternoon.”
Mirth bubbled up from my belly, and I let out a dull chuckle.
“Who’s that?” the woman asked.
I rose from the sofa and walked around it, toward the frumpish woman standing on the threshold of O’s apartment. She definitely wasn’t glamorous Bebe. Her red hair fell limp around a chubby face, lined with age and worn with stress.
Dull green eyes flicked from side-to-side in fleshy sockets. She took me in, inhaled, and a frown crossed her brow.
I took my place beside Olivia, my arms at my sides, at ease with the room, even though the interruption had irked me.
“Is this your boyfriend?” the woman asked and searched O for an answer.
“No,” she replied, quickly. “Definitely not. This is a family friend. Michael’s best friend, actually. Beckett Price.” Olivia nodded toward me but didn’t make eye contact. “Beckett, this is my aunt, Nicki Abbott. She’s married to George, my father’s brother.”
“Thank you for the lesson in genealogy,” I replied.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Nicki said and extended her hand.
I didn’t shake it. “And you. Funny, in all the years I’ve known Michael and Olivia, neither of them mentioned an aunt or an uncle.”
Olivia gave a nervous laugh.
Nicki raised a bushy ginger eyebrow. “No?”
“No,” I said. “Not at all. Isn’t that strange. Do you know what’s even stranger, Mrs. Abbott?”
“What?” she asked, and there was a tightness to those lines on her face now. The eyes hadn’t quit darting from side to side in her skull.
“That the uncle and aunt I never knew existed have
suddenly appeared now that Michael is gone,” I replied. “Why is that? Why are you here?”
Nicki shifted and withdrew a plastic bag from behind her back. She lifted it. “I brought food for Penny and Olivia. I was worried after they ran out on our lunch today, but now I see why she left.”
“You do,” I replied and forced a smile.
I had a radar for freeloaders. For people who couldn’t be trusted. Nicki Abbott had sent the needle on the gauge into the red. She wasn’t here to help out. She was here for another reason.
“Beckett, there’s no need to be rude,” Olivia growled at me.
I ignored her stare. “Are you sure you know the reason Olivia left lunch today, Nicki? Perhaps it’s closer than you think.”
“What are you implying?” The redhead puffed out her chest. “That she left because of me?”
“Stop,” O said. “Both of you, stop it.”
“I should leave.” Auntie Dearest shuffled back.
“No! You shouldn’t.” Olivia caught her arm and tugged her forward a step. “Beckett’s the one who was just leaving. He’s helped out enough around here today.”
So, that was how she’d play it. Use freeloaders and fuckheads to get me out of the apartment? Fine, I had fires to put out. I had work shit to deal with, but if she thought she’d keep me away for long, she was sorely mistaken.
“I was leaving,” I said.
Olivia made a noise in her throat. Shock? Regret?
Likely, she’d anticipated an argument from me.
“I have important business to attend to,” I said. “I’d say it was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Abbott, but I don’t make a habit out of lying.”
The middle-aged woman gasped as I swept past her and down the hall, toward the steel doors of the elevator.
“Beck poo?” Penny’s question drifted out after me, and it took all my resolve to stay on course.
The guilt crippled me. The protective need to watch over the little one bit my heels. But Olivia wanted to prove she didn’t need me, and I’d give her the chance. I’d watch her fail, and then I’d scoop up the pieces when she came crying back.