And dreamed of Beau.
twenty-one
HANNAH
How didone act around one’s boss who used to hate you but then described how he’d love to cover your body in his cum?
The eternal question.
Much the same as you had before the “cum” comment, it seemed. Or at least that was what Beau did.
My stomach was swirling with butterflies when I entered the kitchen the next morning. I’d slept in, only because I’d stayed up so late tossing and turning, contemplating creeping down the hallway into Beau’s bed, despite his noble intentions. Despite my own.
I only lapsed into unconsciousness in the wee hours after making myself come to the thoughts of Beau’s hands, his almost scarily large cock—if the shape underneath his jeans was to be believed.
My limbs felt heavy, my brain foggy, as if I had a hangover. Beau was his own form of intoxication, far less dangerous than alcohol. Or far more. I couldn’t decide. I guessed it depended on whether he considered me a quick fuck or a whole future.
Which did I consider him?
That’s what scared me the most.
Clara was already up, swinging her legs at the breakfast bar, eating oatmeal. Beau was in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot.
“Good morning, Banana,” Clara said with her mouth full.
I gave her my entire attention, though it was tough because my body, my eyes, my entire existence wanted to gravitate toward Beau. I couldn’t stop remembering the taste of his lips on my tongue, his scent imprinting on my skin, the wild hunger in his eyes. The feeling of being looked at likethat.
“Good morning, Blueberry.” I managed a warm smile for Clara despite the heaviness of my mood. Because I couldn’t simply experience the elation of finding out someone I wanted, wanted me back. Not when that person had been making my life a living hell for months. Beau wanted me, and for some fucked-up reason, he’d been being a complete asshole to me to try to mask it.
That was seriously juvenile and problematic in many ways. I should not have just melted for him the second he showed me positive attention. I should not have wanted him back. At the very least, I should’ve made him work for it. Made him grovel.
I should’ve shoved down my feelings, not allowing myself to get tangled up with a man with the ability to treat me so callously, whatever his intentions.
A strong cocktail of regret, respect, sadness, and happiness hit me like a train as I observed Clara’s easy smile. Her carefree joy.
I did not want to jeopardize her happiness in any way. And though it hurt me, I accepted Beau’s decision not to sleep with me. I was grateful for it. He was trying to do right by his daughter.
I gathered my courage, pulling in a deep breath.
“Good morning, Beau,” I said, still standing awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen.
“Good morning, Hannah.” He didn’t turn, replying with his back to me. His voice was rough, deep. It caressed my skin.
I took another long breath before making a beeline for the coffee machine.
If I were going to deal with this, I needed copious amounts of caffeine.
But Beau, apparently, had the same idea, and we met at the machine, our fingers brushing as our hands outstretched at the same time.
His skin on mine was electric. Having his large body so close awoke my nerve endings with a current I hadn’t felt since last night. It was as if he’d unlocked a whole new level of sensation I didn’t know existed between us, within me.
This was not a man who hated me, whom I needed to hide from; this was a man who wanted me so viscerally that he had to create distance, both emotional and physical, because he didn’t trust himself.
He. Wanted. Me.
I repeated it over and over like a hymn.
I’d spent a lot of time in my head when I was growing up, a lot of time imagining I was like Matilda and could move things with my mind. Or that I was a forgotten witch who would come into her powers then be taken away to a world where I would have the ability to change things.
