“Okay, so I would suck at it, but you do it. And you look like you have fun doing it. Why call it boring?”
“Most people think it is. I know it’s not that boring. Or at least it’s not to me. I got started in it because it was my favorite subject in school. Science. All of the sciences. And when I was in community college and working full-time, one of my professors needed help with something, so I got another job helping him. It didn’t pay much, but it was fun to learn all the ins and outs of writing a textbook. One thing led to another, and suddenly, it was a career. It’s not huge, and I’m not a multimillionaire or anything, but I do okay.”
“Yeah, you do.”
She smiled then, and it reached her eyes. I felt like I was on top of the world. Like I had finally done something right.
We ate our dinners—steak and baked potatoes and crisp green beans for me, chicken in her case. It was nice to simply be and enjoy the music and the ambiance. It wasn’t something I did often.
This place was far removed from my life before. There were no screaming people in the corner, no drugs, no one practically having sex on the bar. There were no dangerous moves or the idea that you could die if you took the wrong step. Not that we were always that dramatic, but sometimes, it felt like that.
There was no stepping on one another to make sure you were the best.
This was a place to…be.
And I liked who I was with.
When I took Meadow home, and we talked about nothing except for our friends and our jobs, I figured this was possibly the best first date I’d ever been on. The only real first date.
“This was nice,” she said, grinning. “Really nice.”
“You sound surprised,” I said, grinning a bit as we stood on her porch.
“Maybe. I didn’t know what this would be.”
“And what is this?” I asked, the words out of my mouth before I’d even fully thought them.
“I don’t know exactly.”
She went up on her tiptoes and kissed me square on the mouth.
My eyes widened, and I reached around, holding her close as I kissed her back.
She tasted of whiskey and our dinner. And Meadow. I wanted to kiss her harder, to push her against the door and have my way with her until we both came, but I knew that wasn’t the right move. It would be a horrible idea.
“Jesus,” I drawled, pulling myself back before I pushed her against the door and slid my hand down her pants like I wanted to. I was better than this. I had to be. She deserved more than a quick fuck against a door. She deserved everything. She had, even before, and she sure as hell did now.
“Thank you for dinner,” she whispered, licking her wet lips.
“Yeah. We need to do that again.”
“The kiss?” she asked, her eyes dancing.
“Dinner, the kiss…everything.”
“As long as you promise to play for me.”
“Maybe. But you’re going to have to kiss me again first.”
And then I slammed my mouth down on hers, not able to hold back.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I growled as I kissed her, our tongues sliding against one another.
“We need to stop,” I rasped.
She pulled back, looking into my eyes, and I saw that spark again, the flame that reminded me of who she had been, mixed with the girl I knew now.
“What if we don’t?” she whispered, and I froze.
“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice barely coming out through my clenched teeth. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some fantasy I’d thought up. Maybe a dream. It couldn’t be real.
But I held her in my arms, and I knew it was real. So damn real.
“Yeah. But no promises. Okay? Just make me feel.”
“That I can do.” And then my mouth was on hers again, and her hands were on my back.
I pulled away long enough for her to get her keys out of her purse, and then we were inside, the door closed behind us. I watched as she flipped each lock, making sure we were safe inside. I didn’t resent her for that time. I hated that she felt she had to be that careful, but I was glad for it all the same.
“You have to be sure,” I said again, asking her to reassure us both. “Because as much as you say I have that big ego, I’m not going to take advantage of you.”
She looked at me then, and slid her pin out of her hair, the strands falling in luscious waves down her back and chest.
“Yes…” A pause. “Yes.” This time firmer.
“I don’t know if I can be gentle,” I whispered, running my hands down her face. “And I think you need gentle, baby girl.”
“No. I don’t think I need it to be too gentle. For now, let’s just be you and me. No past. No future. Only us. It’s what I need. Okay?”
I studied her face and nodded before kissing her again.
She was so soft beneath me, a moan sliding through her lips as I kissed her harder.
I pulled away, only long enough for her to lead me to the bedroom. I looked around her house, noticing small details as we passed, like the fact that she didn’t have any photos on the walls of people, only some of landscapes, places she might’ve been or perhaps some that didn’t mean anything at all.
But then my mouth was on hers again as we entered her bedroom, and I noticed the big bed behind her.
I couldn’t wait to see her splayed out, to join her.
There were no words then, none were needed.
I lowered my head, slowly running my lips along her jaw before easing her coat off her body. It slid to the floor, and then I latched my mouth onto her neck, softly biting down as she groaned, turning her head slightly so I had better access.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I growled out.
“I need to come,” she whispered.
I grinned. And then I was kissing her harder, stripping her out of her clothes as quickly as I could. I was so rock-hard beneath my jeans that I was afraid I might blow right then. There was no need to be gentle. I didn’t think either of us needed that right then.
What I needed was for this to be her and me, only us, but not too much so. I had to be able to walk away. Being able to run to keep her safe was important. And I couldn’t do that if I was too invested.
I pushed those thoughts out of my head and lived in the moment.
I eased her onto the bed and my mouth on hers, slowly working her bra off as I did. Her tits were big enough to fill my hands, her rose-colored nipples tight and puckered into hard little buds. I sucked one into my mouth, and she moaned.
“Beckham,” she groaned out.
“That’s it, let me taste you.”
I kissed up and down her body, helping her out of her pants. She wiggled beneath me.
And when I worked my way down her front, I grinned at her black, lace thong and had to hold back a groan of my own. She was so fucking beautiful. All curves and softness. She had a few tattoos, a handful of scars, and I knew where those had come from, but I wasn’t going to say anything.
There didn’t need to be words.
When I kissed her over her panties, she arched beneath me, her hands sliding through my hair.
I was glad that my beard had grown back because it was getting long enough that it was turning soft. I slowly rubbed my cheeks along the insides of her thighs, and she pressed her legs together around my shoulders, arching under me.
“Beckham.”
I grinned and slowly slid her panties out of the way, looking at her wet folds before latching on to her clit. I sucked, licked, then used a finger to tease her entrance.
She moaned, writhing under me, but I kept sucking, kept licking. And when she tightened around my finger, her body arching, I kept going, easing her through her orgasm until she was right on the edge again.
She tugged at my hair as I pulled away, and I grinned.
“I need to be inside you,” I growled out.
“Beckham.”
Apparently, that was all she coul
d say, and I was totally fine with that.
“You’re so beautiful when you come.”
“Nice words. But I don’t see you doing anything else.”
“Feisty. I like it.”
“I’d like it if you weren’t dressed while I’m lying here naked beneath you.”
She reached for the buckle of my belt, but I pushed her hand away. “You touch me, I’m going to blow right now. And I have a reputation to uphold.”
She raised a brow and then cupped her breasts. “Really?”
That was the Meadow I liked. One that could be herself. Fuck. She was so fucking sexy. “Okay, no. But play with me anyway.”
I pulled my shirt off over my head and then undid my belt, moving back so I could strip out of the rest of my clothes.
I pulled a condom from my pants’ pocket, knowing I had put it there just in case, though hoping she didn’t think that I assumed we would be doing this tonight.
Better safe than sorry, though. Right?
She didn’t say anything, her eyes dark as she watched me slowly roll the condom over my length.
I cupped my balls, squeezing the base of my dick as I looked at her, and I knew if I weren’t careful, I wasn’t going to make it inside her.
And I really wanted to be inside her.
She licked her lips, and I crawled over her, slowly positioning myself at her entrance.
“You ready?”
“Always.”
And then I slammed into her. One thrust, and I was balls-deep.
She screamed my name, and I captured her shout with my mouth.
Her legs locked around my waist, and even as she adjusted to my girth, I slowly pumped in and out of her, increasing my speed as I did.
Her fingernails raked down my back as I slammed into her, one thrust, then another.
I wanted to fuck her hard into the mattress, wanted to show her exactly who I once was, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
And because of that thought, I twisted around, moving to my back with her on top as I slid my hands over her hips.
“Ride me.”
She raked her fingers through her hair before putting both hands on her breasts, pinching her nipples.
“If you say so.” And then she rocked her hips, rolling as she rode my cock.
“Fuck,” I growled, gripping her hips tightly so she could sit still for a minute.
“Too good?” she asked, licking her lips.
“Fuck yeah.” And then I fucked her. Rising up and down so quickly, the sounds I made echoed in my ears. It made things that much hotter.
She lowered over me, kissing me as I tugged on her hair and fucked her hard.
I slid one hand between us, flicking my thumb over her clit, and she came. When she clamped around me, I pumped once, twice, and then I came with her, whispering her name into her mouth as I kissed her.
I couldn’t hold back, didn’t want to.
So we kept moving, even as both of us came down from our orgasms.
I wanted more but knew I couldn’t take it. Was positive I couldn’t give it.
And as she looked at me, I saw the girl she’d been before, and I knew I felt like the guy I’d once been as well.
But then I saw the scars, the ones on her body I could see, and the ones I couldn’t. And I thought about the ones she couldn’t see on me.
And not only the visible ones that reminded me of who we were. The ones inside, as well.
Though this had been the best night of my life, I knew it couldn’t last.
Because she was a princess. And I was the bastard who’d worked with her ex-boyfriend.
I was the asshole who hadn’t known all the horrors of what had happened with her until it was too late.
I was that bastard. And she would always be the princess.
And when she found out who I was? Who I had been back then?
There’d be nothing left.
Just like I deserved.
Chapter 6
What is perfection?
Not my choices. But perhaps my reasons?
~Meadow, journal entry
Meadow
Apparently, I could figure out what normal was if I really tried. Or this was my normal, and I was okay with it. “Really? I can’t believe you like scallops.” I shuddered as Beckham rolled his eyes, tossing the shrimp into the scampi.
“Scallops are amazing. They’re like butter.”
“Then eat butter.”
He raised a brow at me, shaking his head.
Now I loved it when he smirked. Yes, it was that ego that I always joked about with him. But it made me feel like I wasn’t broken. And I really wasn’t. I was okay. Sure, I was scared of my past, but I wasn’t afraid of the people around me. Beckham didn’t make me feel afraid.
“I’m not going to eat butter, weirdo.”
“You’re weird.”
“Maybe. But I’m also cooking you dinner. I think that counts for something.”
I shook my head and smiled at him.
We were four months into dating. Four months. I still couldn’t believe we were doing this. We talked to each other every day, even if we didn’t see each other. And when I went to the bar, he always grinned and winked at me as he helped fill orders, and then he’d make sure he kissed me firmly on the mouth later. In public. So everyone knew I was his.
Then again, in my mind, it was so everyone knew he was mine.
Not that I actually called him mine, because that would be a bit…much. We’d been very good about not assigning labels. We’d mentioned dating only since it was easy to say when we were going out together, but we did not say things like “boyfriend” or “girlfriend” or “lover” or anything like that.
That would make things scary. At least, in my mind.
I was probably overreacting, but I tended to do that.
But now, four months after our first date at the piano bar, I couldn’t help but smile at him and feel like this was the normal that I’d craved. He still hadn’t played for me yet, but one day soon, I knew he would. If I asked, he would. And I didn’t know what to do with that kind of trust.
I hadn’t heard from my mom or anyone else from my past since Mom stopped by months ago. And Beckham acted as if this was our life now.
I loved it.
Now he was here, in my home, making me dinner. I knew he would spend the night. And I would wake up in the morning curled in his arms before he slid into me, and we woke each other coming and calling each other’s names.
It was odd to think that it had happened so quickly, and yet not fast enough.
I didn’t think of Coby anymore. Yes, Beckham had tattoos and marks on his body like Coby did, but those scars were from an accident when he was younger—or so he said.
We didn’t talk about that, though. We didn’t discuss our pasts.
Perhaps that was my fault. Maybe it was his.
And it might get us into trouble one day. But that was fine. I only wanted to think about our present and our possible future. Even if it could lead us down two far different paths.
“You’re looking all serious over there, cupcake.” He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.
“Cupcake?”
“I don’t like calling you baby all the time. Makes it sound like I don’t remember your name.”
“You rarely call me Meadow.”
“What am I supposed to call you? Flower?”
I shuddered.
“Now what’s that look for?” Then he looked at me, a strange expression passing over his face as he shook his head. It was as if he knew that I didn’t like being called that because it was too close to Petal, my mother’s name. But he wouldn’t know that. He couldn’t. I hadn’t mentioned my mom’s name. And he didn’t know her. He didn’t know about my past.
I had to be seeing things.
“Anyway, I don’t think cupcake’s the word you want to use. Now I’m hungry.”
“I’m making you shrimp scampi, woman.”
; “Oh, good. Now, I’m going to be called woman. Great.”
“Hey, better than cupcake.”
“Now I really want cupcakes.”
“How about this? After dinner, I’ll head to the store and pick you up some cupcakes. How does that sound?”
I looked up at him then, and something made my heart clutch. It couldn’t be that. Four months, and I had already pushed that aside. I could not fall in love with Beckham Masters.
I had fallen in love before, and it had screwed me over. Sure, this was completely different, and, no, I wasn’t the same person as before. But I didn’t want that. I couldn’t have that.
I didn’t know what would happen to him if I had to leave. If my past came after me again. Or if he found out who I was. Who I had been before. What would he think of me?
Would he still want me?
I couldn’t fall in love with him. But I could have him for now. That would have to be enough.
“I think after dinner, we should be just fine. Plus, I brought cheesecake.” I grinned after I said it, batting my eyelashes, and he licked his lips.
Then I imagined him licking other places, and I went damp.
Dear God, the man turned me on so very quickly. It was a problem.
“Yeah? It’s like you know I love cheesecake, woman.”
“Stop calling me woman.”
“Okay, cupcake.”
“I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Oh, you can try. But don’t worry, I can take you.”
“So you say. But all I have to do is strip naked, and then you’ll be at my mercy.”
He flipped the scampi a bit on the stove before removing it from the heat and leaning against the counter. And then he folded his arms over his chest and raked his gaze down my body. I could practically feel him touching me. My nipples hardened, and my panties got wet.
Dear God, Beckham was so damned good at that. He was an addiction.
Definitely my weakness.
“Well, why don’t we try it out? You strip down and get naked, and I’ll try to take you.”
“After dinner.”
“So no cheesecake, then?”
“I’m sure we can work the cheesecake in somehow,” I said, laughing. He reached around, gripped me by my ass, and lifted me up.
Taken With You Page 7
