And it wasn’t difficult to feel Beckett watching me the whole time. He could’ve headed straight for the parking lot and driven that spiffy status symbol of his right home while I promised the head of the local youth soccer organization that we could figure something out for team parties at the end of the fall season.
But he didn’t. He stayed while I talked to everyone and their auntie, and he did it while keeping a respectful distance. He didn’t come close enough to eavesdrop and never once did he show any impatience at my extrovert running wild.
He didn’t have to wait for me. Really, when I gave it even a second of thought, I knew he shouldn’t wait for me. It was a touch too familiar for me. Too involved, too fast. Sure, we’d been yelling at each other for nearly two months now, but last night happenedlast night. We weren’t even twenty-four hours out from that first kiss—and all the ones that followed—and I didn’t know if I was ready for Beckett to suddenly respect my time and space while also waiting to get me alone.
At the very same time, Ilovedthe way he watched me. I loved the heat of his gaze as it skimmed the lines of my body and the dark intention I caught in his eyes. I had no problem admitting that I enjoyed the attention. And I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to find out whether last night’s chemistry was the product of bizarre cosmic energy or the surprisingly satisfying way it would always be between us.
When I was finished chatting, I turned around to find Beckett leaning against his SUV, phone in hand, gaze trained on me. My ride was in the opposite direction but I went to him.
“Crisis averted.” My sandals smacked the asphalt as I crossed the parking lot. “For now, at least.”
“They’ll forget about it. Then they’ll invent another crisis in a few months.” He glanced over my shoulder to the wide walkway in front of the building. “Is there anyone you don’t know?”
“Yeah. Probably. But they weren’t here tonight.” I stopped a few feet away from him, saying, “You didn’t have to wait for me. I’m sure you had better things to do than watch Janie from the cheese shop catalog her issues with vegan cheeses.”
He straightened, slipped his phone into his pocket. “I’m quite adept at managing my time but thank you for your concern.”
I stared at him for a moment, taking in the rolled-up cuffs and thick, wavy hair. He was as polished as always but I saw something raw and untamed in him tonight. Maybe it was the upheaval of this whole day or maybe it was the oppressive humidity. And maybe it was all of that and everything else I couldn’t pinpoint but I knew I wanted to find all the wildness in him.
I dropped my bag, grabbed hold of his tie, and yanked him hard against my chest. I had to push up on my tiptoes to seal my lips to his but I got there with a hand on the back of his neck to help close the distance and—
—and nothing.
Beckett didn’t kiss me back. Didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.
What the hell?Had I misinterpreted the many signals he’d sent me tonight? How about the time when he asked me to watch him roll up his sleeves, which we all knew to be the official mating dance of the modern male. Or when he grabbed my hip and chased the line of my underwear around the curve of my ass for twenty minutes. Or the part where he stared at me like I was his next meal and I side-eyed right back to let him know he’d have to work for it.
Was it even possible to misreadallthose signals? No. I didn’t think so. This was simply a matter of this moody man changing his mind once again and updating me with that information while my mouth was on his.Lovely. Charming. What a gentleman.
It was official. This was the most awkward moment of my life, and that was a real feat considering my brain had a pesky habit of misfiring and leaving me flailing on the floor.
Since this was a lost and very embarrassing cause, I pulled back. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d—”
“Shut up, Sunny.” He spun me around and pushed me up against his car. “I haven’t stopped thinking about this since last night.”
He stared down at my mouth and frowned, shaking his head a little before he leaned in and brushed his lips over mine. It was slow at first, as if he wanted to get reacquainted and do it while tasting each rise and corner of my lips. It was like he was experimenting with being anything other than an absolute bear.
Then he forgot all about that and kissed me like he meant every one of those words and he intended to prove it too. But he wasn’t the only one who knew how to play this game. He nipped at me and I nipped back. He palmed my breast and I curled my fingers around his hair. He grabbed my knee and yanked it up to his thigh and I boosted myself up to wrap the other leg around his waist.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about it either,” I said between long, lazy kisses that seemed to reach inside me and excavate all the tension I’d built up today. I felt infinitely soft even while heat coiled low in my belly. I understood at a fundamental level what it meant to be turned on. It was like the doors had blown open, every switch had been flipped, all the lights were burning bright. “But you drive me crazy.”
“Youdrivemecrazy.” He grabbed a fistful of my skirt as if it proved something and I saw the exact moment when he realized how a wrap skirt worked. “Ohhhh.I approve of this.” He parted the skirt and slipped his hands under the fabric to grip my backside. “Also drives me crazy.”
“Why?”
He gave a single shake of his head as he traced the line of my boy shorts and I vibrated against him. “Because it’s you,” he said, the words little more than a growl against my neck.
I didn’t understand what that meant but this was not one of those moments where it made sense to stop and ask clarifying questions. Other things were happening with our mouths and my mind was busy working through several important questions such asWhat are we actually doing here?Is the fine greater when the indecency takes place on government property? Am I willing to risk bug bites in inconvenient places?
“Why do you feel so good?” He palmed my breast and swiped his thumb over my nipple like it was all rather miraculous. “Why do you feel like—fuck, Sunny,why?”
But he didn’t sound like he’d stumbled onto a miracle. He sounded strained, a little tortured. As if the way I felt and the mutually inspired craziness and the electricity crackling between us was a problem he’d never be able to solve. And when he kissed me, I could taste that torture.
Headlights cut across the parking lot and several horn blasts startled us apart. The car slowed as it approached and the second Beckett identified the driver, he muttered, “This fuckin’ guy.”
“Good evening,” Ranger Dickerson boomed from behind the wheel of an electric two-seater. Phil Collins waved, seemingly unfussed by the fact Beck had me pancaked against his car and my legs were locked around his waist. “Nice turnout in there. I don’t know what it is about that Noah Barden but he speaks the words people need to hear.”
Beckett cleared his throat. “Right.”
