“To pee,” I whispered back with a smile. “Let me go, caveman.”
Beck mumbled something incoherent but kissed my bare shoulder and released me from his grip so I could scramble out. By the time I’d grabbed his t-shirt from the floor and tugged it over my head, his breathing had evened back out into sleep, and I took extra care not to make any sound as I crept into the bathroom.
When I was done, I decided not to get back into bed straight away. I was still wide awake and would only end up tossing and turning, then eventually waking Beck up. Still, it wasn’t until I headed back into the living room that I remembered the folder Sami had given me in the bathroom at school.
I grabbed it out of my bag then tossed it on the coffee table. Whatever Wells had sent me would need some brain power to process, so I padded around in the kitchen and made coffee in my awesome Queen mug. Not wanting to turn on too many lights and wake Beck, I just flicked on the little table lamp beside the couch and settled against the pillows to tear open the sealed packet.
“I probably should have opened this sooner,” I murmured to myself, flipping through what looked to be a case file. One that catalogued all the grisly details of the heiress murdered in Texas two months ago. Wells must have somehow intercepted the information before the cops came to see me, which made me a little bit impressed at his reach and resources.
A thorough read of the papers showed nothing drastically different from what Shephard had told us, just offered a whole lot more detail. Including crime scene photos that turned my stomach and set my heart racing with fear. I was so engrossed reading a diary photocopy from the victim—sixteen year old Cordelia June—that I didn’t hear anyone creeping up on me until a hand touched my shoulder.
Needless to say, I screamed, and the papers I’d been holding scattered everywhere while I scrambled away from my attacker ... only to find Beck in a fit of laughter on the floor behind the couch.
“You asshole!” I shrieked, throwing a pillow at his head. Hard. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“Aw, I’m sorry, Butterfly,” he snickered, pulling himself up and climbing onto the couch with me. “I couldn’t resist. What had you concentrating so hard at three in the morning, huh?” He peeled my arms away from my face—which I’d been hiding to stop him seeing just how badly he’d scared me—and kissed my neck.
I considered telling him all the crap I’d just read, especially the part where Cordelia had thought the roses were being sent by a secret admirer. She’d journaled about which boy at school she thought might be responsible and talked about how flattering and exciting it all was. This was a month before her murder. The gifts had steadily deteriorated from there, roses turning up covered in blood and her cat being left dead on her bedroom floor, until finally—while her parents were away on some business trip—the stalker had broken in, tied her up, tortured, and raped her before stabbing her to death. A single black Osiria rose was left tossed on her body, the signature of her killer. I worried about the fact that my first “gift” was the bloody roses. Did that mean he was lessening his timeline with me? Or had there been other gifts before the roses?
“What sort of shit did Delta intercept for me?” I asked Beck, and all humor died from his face. “Have there been other gifts? Or just threats?”
His face was suddenly alert, not a single sign that it was three in the morning and he had only had a few hours sleep. “Three written threats, two bunches of flowers, some stuffed animals, and a diamond necklace which was traced to an oil heir currently living in South Africa.”
I blinked at him, while attempting to smile. “Well, where’s my necklace? I love diamonds.” I joked to hide my discomfort about people sending me stuff. Especially when those flowers and stuffed animals—similar to what Cordelia got—probably came from the crazy serial killer.
Beck’s hand wrapped gently around my throat, and my body clenched. His voice at my ear was a whisper. “No one puts jewelry on this perfect body except me.”
I snorted, but didn’t disagree. There was a beat of silence, and I sighed. “I think those first flowers and the stuffed animals were from the Osiria killer,” I said softly.
Beck stilled, face unreadable. “What makes you think that?”
I turned fully toward him, suddenly desperate not to think about my fucking stalker and this messed up Delta world. I needed to stop seeing those crime scene photos. “I’ll tell you soon,” I breathed, moving my face closer to his. My heart stuttered out of rhythm for a moment as I stared at Beck. He was fucking gorgeous. Too gorgeous for his own good.
“First though … why are you awake?” I asked softly. His eyes darkened, going stormy at my change of subject. But he indulged me, letting the heavy shit go for a moment.
“Couldn’t sleep without you,” he admitted, brushing a thumb across my cheek. Beck leaned in close, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and touching his lips ever so softly against mine. “I can’t seem to get enough of you, baby. I think I’m addicted.”
I smiled into his kiss, embracing the rush of butterflies erupting inside me at his words. All the bad thoughts disappeared, and I was back to my happy place. The potency of Beck confessing his feelings never seemed to dissipate, and it was fast becoming my kryptonite.
“If that’s true,” I murmured back, sighing with pleasure as he kissed down the side of my neck, “then I’m just as addicted. I can’t seem to keep my hands off you, Sebastian.” Demonstrating my point, I ran my hands down the hard planes of his bare chest, skimming across his abs and settling at his waist.
He let out a small, manly groan as my fingernails trailed over the lines of his lower abs, those delicious ones that created the V shape right above his junk. “I have an idea how we can handle this,” he informed me, between scorching kisses.
“Hmm?” I replied, fuzzy headed with lust and fascinated as to how I’d just ended up straddling Beck when a moment ago I’d been sitting beside him. He was smooth. Real smooth. “How to handle our mutual addiction to each other?”
“Uh huh,” he confirmed, pushing his t-shirt that I’d borrowed up and tossing it aside. I’d been sleeping naked, so without his shirt, my whole body was bare to his touch. “Normally I would just do it, but something told me I should actuallyask.You know. Make it official?”
I froze, even as his warm hands cupped my breasts and toyed with my hard nipples. “Make what official?” I asked in a breathy whisper, scarcely daring to breathe. What the fuck was he asking me?
Beck took his time, kissing me long and deep—prolonging the anticipation—before replying. “Butterfly? I was wondering...” he trailed off, dropping scalding kisses against my skin until he reached my breast and captured a nipple between his lips.
I let out a low groan when he sucked, threading my fingers into his hair. Whatever the fuck he wanted to ask, he was seriously making sure I’d say yes. “Wondering what?” I pressed, even while I shifted my weight up on my knees and tugged his boxers off. When he didn’t immediately respond, I took his hard shaft in my fist and gave him a few teasing strokes. “What were you wondering, Sebastian?”
“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers finding my wet heat and dipping inside. “I was wondering if you...” he broke off again, gripping me by my waist and pulling me closer so that his cock was lined up with my aching pussy. “If you’d be cool with me moving in. Permanently.” He punctuated his request by thrusting inside me, tightening his arms around my body to pull me down until we were totally joined.
The air all rushed out of my lungs, and my fingernails bit into Beck’s muscled back. Whether it was in response to his suggestion or the sheer delirious ecstasy of having him inside me, I wasn’t totally sure.
He only gave me a hot second to adjust before starting to move, holding me still as he pumped his hips up, grinding into me deep and possessive as he always was. Except, unlike all our anger fueled fucks lately, this time it was pure, unfiltered love that he screwed me with.
