“I have the time,” he said.
I blinked at him for a second. I couldn’t make this decision with his hands on me. “Could I step inside and use the restroom?”
He bobbed his head, his fingertips sliding just under the edge of my shirt. He glanced at the dogs. “Yeah. Do they need anything? Oddly enough, we have a few boxes of dog biscuits. Plenty of tennis balls too.”
My iceberg was little more than an ice sculpture at this point. “No, I gave them cookie scraps while Parker went on about your desire to set up some conference calls.” I climbed off the swing and ordered the dogs to stay. “But thank you. That was…really nice.”
“I cannot take the credit. My parents must’ve bought them. I haven’t gotten around to getting rid of them.”
He led me inside and motioned to a door carved into a nook under the staircase. I loved that kind of quirky stuff so hard. It took a lot of discipline to stop myself from gushing about the wonky shape of the door.
“I guess I could keep them,” he said with a shrug. “In case you come by again.”
This ice was meltingfast. Ocean levels were rising here, people. “Yeah, maybe.” I pointed to the door. “Just give me a few minutes.”
I watched him stride into the kitchen, shaking out his hands and muttering something I couldn’t hear as he went. He could be reciting dark magic for all I cared because that t-shirt stretched across his shoulders in the most perfect way. I was in big trouble.
Once I was alone in the bathroom, I gave myself some time to properly panic in between deep breathing exercises. It was all about balance. After a minute of running cold water over my wrists to calm everything down, I dried my hands, fixed my hair, and said to my reflection, “Stop trying to control everything. It won’t work. Enjoy the chaos.”
When I slipped out of the powder room, Beck was waiting—and he looked about as conflicted as I felt. But then he reached behind me, flattening both hands on the door and crowding me up against it. He stared down at me for a moment that passed in hard, pounding heartbeats.
“Sunny,” he said, his chest heaving. He took my hands, pressed them to his shirt. Pushed against himself. “Tell me to stop.Please.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Sunny, Ineedyou to say it.”
“I won’t.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because I don’t want to,” I replied. “And I don’t think you want it either.”
He closed his eyes like he was in pain. Like he was being twisted apart, drawn and quartered.
“Make sure,” I whispered. “No mistakes.”
He skimmed a hand over my shoulder and up my neck. “It wasn’t a mistake before. It’s not a mistake now.”
My lips parted as he leaned in, and though I knew it was weird I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes. I wanted to remember every detail right down to the way his glasses slipped on his nose and how the scent of vanilla lingered around him.
His fingers were in my hair when his lips brushed over mine and I wrapped my arms around him because it was the only thing I wanted to do. My back connected with the solid plane of the door as he pressed into me, hard and rigid and right where I wanted him, and—
Retching sounded from upstairs.
We broke apart on a shared shudder, both of us staring up at the ceiling in horror as it continued.
“I’m gonna kill him. That’s the fastest solution to all of this.” Beck dropped his chin to the top of my head and sighed. “Or I’ll take away his phone. That’s probably worse.”
I rested my forehead on his chest and let him hold me close for a minute. It was comfortable and that was almost confusing. If you’d asked me an hour ago, I wouldn’t have guessed that I’d find comfort in Beckett Loew. Attraction, some sexual tension, long-simmering resentment, sure. But comfort? No. That was the last thing I’d expected from this troll.
Another round of vomiting started overhead and we groaned. There was no unhearing that sort of thing and there was no quicker way to ruin a good vibe.
“You have a lot on your hands,” I said. “I should probably go.”
“Are you okay to drive?” He dragged his hands from the back of my neck down to my hips and it felt like every pass edged me closer to him. “I can drive you home.”
“I had three sips of beer at the most. Or is there something else you’re implying?”
