I spin to see Beckett in front of the door, dressed in black cargo-style pants, a security vest and black tee, his tattooed arms that turned me on in a way I didn’t expect, on full display. His skin looks more golden than last year, suggesting he’s been exposed to the sun for some time. My focus trails down his arms to his big, strong hands, hands that pinned my own above my head and held me in place while he pleasured my body in a way I didn’t know was possible. I give my head a little shake to stop my trip down memory lane.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my words coming out breathy and rushed.
“I need to talk to you. I need to explain what happened, why I left you.” I avoid looking at him, instead focusing on the shiny silver necklace between my fingers.
“I’m busy. I don’t have time for your lame excuses, Beckett, and for you to confirm you are just like all the other men in this world.”
I move toward him, but he doesn’t flinch.
“I need to get this to Ali. Please move.” When his large frame adjusts, I begin to breathe again, but the air is stolen from my lungs when he grips my hips, spinning me and pinning me to the wall.
“What are you doing?” I cry, my chest heaving.
“You’re all I thought about…” The backs of his knuckles brush my cheek, and on instinct, I lean into his warm touch. One I’ve longed to feel again since Christmas Eve. “I’ve missed your smart mouth.” His lips ghosts mine and my eyes flutter shut, readying myself for our mouths to collide, but when it doesn’t come, I release an involuntary whimper. I mentally chastise myself, because one touch from this man and I’m folding like a lawn chair.
Keep it together, Kennedy.
His large hand cups my jaw and lifts it so I’m forced to look at him. “Please give me a chance to explain.”
My eyes search his deep blue ones, and I see sincerity in them. Maybe he does have a good reason for leaving, but I’m still so hurt. I handed pieces of myself to this man, and he discarded them like trash, like I meant nothing. I know I need to take some ownership for that. We agreed it was one night, no strings, but I wasn’t expecting him to up and leave without a word.
“Beckett, I…” is all I manage before he continues.
“You’re all I’ve wanted these past eleven months, angel, and I’m sorry I left that way. I had to…” I press my finger to his lips, cutting off his words when a buzz comes through my headset, and Lunden’s voice rings out.
“Ken, where are you? Ali is walking in three minutes.” My body stiffens at her words. The necklace.
“Shit,” I hiss and push against Beckett's hard chest, in an attempt to move him.
“I have to go.” He steps back and I wriggle free. My shaky hand reaches for the door handle, and I flee the dressing room, my heart thundering in my chest as my ballet pumps pound the hard floor to race back to Ali. When I reach her, I am a panting mess. I manage to clip the necklace around her slender neck just in time as the beat of the music ramps up, strobe lights flash, and the signal for Ali to set off comes through my earpiece.
With a gentle nod from me, Ali straightens her spine, pulls back her shoulders, places her hands on her hips, and as Grace turns at the end point of the stage, Ali begins her descent of the catwalk looking every bit the pageant queen I know she used to be.
Lunden was helping Grace tonight, and we give each other a celebratory thumbs up. We did it; we pulled it off. I hope tonight has been enough to land me a permanent position at the magazine when my internship is up in the new year, except next time I hope I am on the team that helps design the clothes. That is my ultimate dream.
The models line up, ready for the final walk, and as I direct them out one by one, someone comes up behind me, and I don’t need to look to know who it is. His familiar cedarwood scent wraps around me like a comfort blanket, and I lean back into his chest without a second thought.
“Come with me,” he whispers into my ear. I look around to check to see if anyone is watching us, then I gesture for him to follow me behind the curtain.
“Look, you can’t just—”
My words are stolen when his mouth crashes down on mine, and I moan. I should stop it, pull back, but when his tongue dances with mine, all practical thinking leaves the room, the same way it did the last time, because with him, it all feelsdifferent. He brings that version of me back out; the only version I seem to be able to be when I am him. The version I want to be.
“You know I’m mad at you, right? This changes nothing,” I pant between kisses.
“I figured that, angel.” His breathing matches mine.
My fingers push into his hair, which feels a little longer than last time, and I tug him closer, kissing him like he may disappear again if I don’t hold on for dear life.
This is completely reckless and stupid, but in this moment, I don’t care. I’d risk it all for just a few more moments with him, and that is both exhilarating and a terrifying notion.
Cheering and clapping explode from the other side of the curtain, disrupting our kiss, and he steps back when something in his pocket buzzes. He pulls out his phone and swipes the screen.
“Beckett.” He wipes the remnants of my lip gloss from his lips.
“Where?” Concern etches his face, and I lean in to try and hear the caller, but the cheering is too loud.
“I’ll be right there,” he confirms, before he ends the call and shoves the phone back into his pocket.
