Page 53 of Changing Lanes
Dropping one hand to my ass, he cups and lifts, bringing me onto on my tiptoes in a move that screams greed.
His.
His.
His.
The towel overlapping at my waist flutters like the butterflies beneath the damp cotton.
As his lips descend again, they have the perfect sweet/salty combination I’ve only dreamt about. A satisfying blend of give and take, neither of us fighting for dominance like I expected. The men I’ve been with usually struggle to control the pace, rushing to the finish line, but Beckett’s relaxed exploration proves he’s not racing anywhere.
He tilts his head to get better access, tipping everything on its axis, and my mind swims to stay afloat. This place we’ve ended up, it’s as dangerous as it is safe. In my room, on my terms, but still the most precarious position I could be in—with Beckett at the helm. And yet, my heart beats a steady rhythm, content in having Beckett steer for a while.
His muscles are flexed against mine in a delicious meeting of bodies when the kiss turns lethal, threatening to consume me in a sweet, sweet demise I’ll enjoy every single minute of.
A text notification shatters the quiet of the room, of the moment, reminding me the rest of the world still exists. Beckett’s like an eclipse. A syzygy made up of me, him, and everything else. He obscures it all.
We break apart, catching our breath. Both of us swathed in the same body wash, the smell of secret woodlands swirling around us.
Breadcrumbs. He sprinkles them in his wake without even meaning to and the more breadcrumbs Beckett leaves, the harder it is to resist following them back into the forest I desperately want to get lost in again.
“Shit.” My forehead pressed to his, I say, “I gotta go.”
He cranes his neck to look at me. “I’ll pay you to stay here.”
Ripping myself from his grasp, I skirt around him to grab my phone all the while clutching my rumpled towel to my important parts.
“Just what every woman wants to hear. That she can be bought.”
I type out a quick reply to Cynthia’s text asking if I need a ride.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I don’t want you to leave yet. Every time you walk away it feels like you won’t come back. I, um, I hate that feeling.”
Huh? Our last encounter the guy practically stuffed me in a box with enough postage to ship international but now he doesn’t like it when I leave? I can’t catch up with him and I’ve never had an issue keeping speed before.
I finger my clean uniform in my top drawer, studying him.
“For everyone or just me?”
Beckett flips his hood back up that fell sometime during our kiss.
“Forget it. Do you need me to drop you off at work?”
Mask back in place, Beckett grimly walks to my doorway.
My neck aches from the whiplash as I bat his offer away. “I’ve got it covered.” Dixon’s car is as light as a feather and skims across the water like one, too. My nerves kick start with the promise of driving it some more in the rain. I need…something to look forward to. Anything.
Still hesitating at the threshold, Beckett asks, “Aye, if you were in trouble, would you tell me?”
“I am the trouble, remember?”
My wink is thrown in a dumpster and set on fire. He is literally no fun.
“That old fuckwad didn’t do that to your lip, did he?”
“Vernon? No, he’s not that stupid.” Rude AF but not stupid.
His gaze runs the length of my doorjamb, rubbing the smooth wood and I grimace, remembering how shattered his is in comparison.
