And then his tongue is on me—slow at first, then in me—then deeper, insistent.
Knowing.
I try to hold myself up on my elbows, needing to see him, needing to watch this man I love loving me like this…
But it’s too good.
Too much.
My fingers are clutching at the bed, and he teases me with wicked precision. The scrape of his whiskers. The flicks. The swirling…
I can’t form coherent words.
Nothing. I’ve gone mute.
When I finally let go of the comforter, boneless and wrecked, he crawls out from between my legs, and then crawls up beside me, propping himself on one elbow. His smile is lazy, triumphant.
“Still mad at me for getting the piercing?” he murmurs.
I stare up at the ceiling, dazed and breathless. “You’re not off the hook.”
He leans in, brushing his mouth against mine.
“I know.” He’s more serious than he was a second before. “I know.”
DAY 5, AT SEA
ASHLEY
When I wake, the sheets are rumpled around me, still holding the faintest scent of what we did the night before. Well, of what Beckett did.
I take a few seconds to relive it.
A weight has lifted. Maybe not all the way, maybe not permanently—but enough that I’m willing to admit that I almost feel… hopeful.
I roll onto my side, expecting to find him there, only… I don’t.
And sitting up slowly, I notice the faint throb of sunburn on my shoulders, irritated with myself for not being more careful.
That’s when I spot it—a folded note near the lamp.
Promised the boys we’d hit the arcade this morning. And then laser tag with the guys. Catch you this afternoon some time.
Love, Bex.
P.S. Could’ve spent all morning tasting you again. Tonight works too.
I stare at the handwriting for a long moment.
And feeling good, it seems so easy.
But…If I failed you—I couldn’t live with myself.
He’s trying to protect me, I realize that now. But who’s protecting him?
Whatever’s happening with his job… it’s not just missed bonuses. It’s not just stress or burnout. It’s big. And it’s taking a toll on him. On me. On our family.
There has to be something I can do.
