“He lost his job when I was maybe thirteen? That was the beginning of the end. He was a functioning alcoholic for most of my childhood. He wasn’t a mean drunk. Didn’t hit us or anything. He was just…absent. Too worried about his own shit to worry about us. Which meant everything fell on my mom’s shoulders—the house, the resort, us kids. All because my dad could never be without a glass of gin.” I huffed out a breath and shook my head. “I still can’t stand the smell of that shit. His whole life was consumed by it, and our lives revolved around whether or not he was drinking. Our days started super early just so we could fit in what we needed to before he was drunk. But every year that went by, his start time got a little earlier and earlier, until pretty soon, he was drunk by noon.”
While he’d never been physically abusive, he’d still neglected me.Us. Whether it was outright ignoring us as he tucked himself away, forever working onthe next great American novelrather than job hunting or helping Mom with the resort, or just straight passed out in the living room at four in the afternoon.
“I’m sorry, Beck.”
“Yeah, well. It is what it is. I just decided I didn’t want to do that. I’ve been drunk exactly once.”
“Really? When?”
I cleared my throat. “The day they found my mom’s boat but not my mom.”
My dad had been drunk then, too. Passed out on the couch while my brothers and I had stepped in, taken the reins, and figured out what to do, all the while looking after Addison and worrying that the only guiding force we had in our life was gone.
I’d spent a lot of years wishing it’d been him who’d been on that boat and not her, wondering why the hell a good person and an amazing mom was taken too soon when someone like my dad continued dragging his ass through life, barely existing.
Everly made a soft sound in the back of her throat and pressed a kiss under my jaw. “That’s a lot for you to deal with. I can see why you made that choice. What about the rest of your siblings?”
I shrugged. “It affected us all differently. I think I’m the only one who doesn’t really drink. I’ll have a beer here or there, but that’s about it.” I held her wineglass in front of her. “But it doesn’t bother me if anyone else does, so drink up.”
“Would you hold my hair back for me if I spent the night puking?”
What the hell kind of question was that? “You know I would.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter because it’s not happening.”
“Why not?”
She didn’t answer me right away, and it was too dark to be able to read any nuances in her expression.
“Sunshine?”
She took a deep breath, the move pressing her even more tightly against me. On an exhale, she said, “Because if I’m drunk, you won’t let us have a replay of this morning.”
I froze behind her, all thoughts of my parents and my rocky childhood vanishing into thin air, replaced by the memories of her in the shower, her back to me, ass tilted up as I slid my cock between those lush thighs, her moans in my ears as I came against her.
“What makes you think I will anyway?” I asked, but my voice was too deep, too ragged to pass for casual.
She shifted against me, very deliberately rubbing her ass against the erection I couldn’t hope to hide from her. “Just took a wild guess.”
Fuck. What was the right thing to do here? She wasn’t drunk—she wasn’t even tipsy. She’d probably had a total of one glass, and since she’d stuffed herself on the tray of meats, cheeses, crackers, and blackberry vanilla bourbon jam I’d brought out for her, she was good.
And my willpower was crumbling.
I tucked my face into her neck, pressing my nose against her skin and inhaling deeply. She smelled so fucking good, and she was so soft and warm against me, and she was wearing my shirt even though she had half a dozen others to choose from, courtesy of Luna. And now, her tight little ass was right up against my cock, taunting me, tormenting me, and I wasn’t sure I could resist any longer.
She reached over, plucked the glass from my hand, and set it off to the side. Then she leaned back against me, slipping her hands on top of mine and threading our fingers together as she brought them to her stomach. “Stop fighting it.”
With her guiding the way, she slipped our hands beneath the T-shirt, my fingertips grazing over the soft skin of her stomach, up her rib cage, and not stopping until our hands were cupping her bare tits.
“Fuck.” I couldn’t stop from clenching my hands, groaning when her nipples pebbled against my palms. “What do you need, sunshine?”
“You,” she breathed, arching into my touch and pressing her ass more firmly against me.
And that was it. All bets off. Game over. I was done for, blissfully annihilated at the hands of this gorgeous siren.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
BECK
