“You feel so good,” she whispers, nipping my ear.
“Yeah, baby, you like the way I touch you?” I murmur. She whimpers in response, and it’s almost my undoing. A noise so sinful, it shouldn’t sound so good.
I carry her away from the wall and towards my room. Her face is buried into my neck, and her lips gently suck on the skin.
I get her on my bed, and I follow her down onto the mattress. We’re a mess of limbs and hot kisses.
“Beckett,” she gasps as I kiss down her body, nipping softly at her nipple that’s still covered by her tank and bra.
Fuck, I think I could die a happy man.
“You like that, baby?”
“Mhmm…yeah,” she whimpers, her body arching off the bed, pressing her into me.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I jerk my head up.My pager.
“Beckett, wait…”
“It’s my pager, I can’t—” I say, but she cuts me off by pressing her lips back to mine, pulling me on top of her.
But the spell is broken, and all I can think about is my job.
“I can’t…please,” I sigh, pulling away from her, and the look on her face is enough to make my heart ache.
“Someone else will take care of it,” she whispers, her eyes pleading with me to stay. But we both know that my decision was made the moment we were interrupted.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, getting up off the bed and quickly changing into dry clothes.
I offer her my hand to help her up. I can’t look her in the eyes, not when I know I just broke something fragile.
“Please just go,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
“Let me help you get dressed,” I plead, going to my closet to get her a shirt.
“Go. Just fucking go,” she whispers. I can hear the hurt in her voice; it’s like a stake through my heart.
“Are you sure?” I whisper, turning to look at her. The look on her face, her arms wrapped tightly around her body as she tries to hide herself from me, makes me sick with guilt.
“Go,” she whispers.
“Baby, please.”
“Get out, Beckett,” she hisses, and I close my mouth, not having the words to say to make this better.
I quickly pull on my own clothing, leaving before I can change my mind and go back to her, to beg for her forgiveness.
14
SLOANE
Ilay in his bed, in just my tank top and panties, for far longer than what is socially expectable for someone who just got left.
He had me, and he walked away.
I guess that I shouldn’t really be surprised. No one else has ever chosen me first before. I suppose that this shouldn’t really be any different.
