by Kally Ash
The guy didn’t stop.
“Way to go, jackass,” she said under her breath. Crouching down, she swiped the keys off the sidewalk and looked up, her breath halting in her lungs for a moment. Beau was waiting outside the club, his arms folded over his chest like he had all damn day to wait... for her. Her heart lurched when his eyes met hers, determination shining in them. With her mouth suddenly dry, she wondered if she could simply turn around and go back to her apartment.
She’d dreamed about him last night. After seeing him at the café, after talking to him and finding out the truth, it almost made her reconsider her decision to keep him at a distance. She longed to have that intimacy back with him, but she wasn’t sure she was willing to risk her heart for it. It could only survive being decimated like that once.
Shaking herself, she straightened her spine and approached the front door of the club. Every one of her movements was precise—careful. She felt the key slide into the cylinder, felt each of the teeth slide into position. Letting out a breath, she turned the key and opened the door. She peered over her shoulder at him, already knowing he wasn’t going to leave.
Once he has an idea in his head…
He followed her, closing the door behind him. She spun around to face him, yet he didn't say anything. He didn't need to. She could read everything he wanted to say in his expression, in his heavy-lidded gaze. She backed farther into the club, her skin prickling with awareness.
"Come to my office," she murmured. Turning, she felt as if she were floating. Beau was a solid wall of heat at her back, and her body remembered what he felt like on top of her, what he felt like inside her. She walked into her office and stopped when Beau's warm fingers curled around the back of her neck. The heat intensified as he pressed himself against her, his pecks in line with her shoulder blades.
"I know you haven't forgotten how good we are together."
"Were, Beau."
His chest rose and fell. "We can have it again, Vee."
She shook her head. "I can't."
"Please."
Her eyes closed as she felt the last of her resolve crumble and dissolve. What if it was only one time? Surely what she felt was just an itch she needed scratched. "No, Beau."
With a soft curse, he spun her around, forcing their eyes to meet. "You're lying."
She jerked her chin up. "Don't."
"Don't what? Tell you how I feel? Tell you that I've missed you every single day since I lost you?"
"Yes," she hissed. "Don't say that. Don't tell me those things."
"Why not?" he shot back, taking a step toward her, forcing her to back up. "Because you feel the same way?"
Evangeline's back slammed into the wall of her office. "I don't."
"Liar."
His tone provoked her. If he wouldn't take her at her word, she would have to show him. "I'll prove it to you then," she snapped. Before he could respond, she kissed him, and in that moment, everything that had held her back, simply disappeared like fog being burned off with the heating sun. Everything about him was the same—from the way he slanted his mouth over hers as he deepened their kiss, to the way his fingers tangled into the hair at the base of her skull. He had always been possessive of her, and she had liked that side of him. She found herself trying to get closer to him, molding her body into the shape of his, trying to find the friction she so badly needed.
She moaned, which only made him tighten his arms. She felt every hard inch of him, her soul remembering everything about the way he made her feel to the way she had loved him. He had once consumed her whole world, and she'd gladly given it all to him, but that was before...
She broke the kiss and shoved him away. He was stunned; his expression was caught somewhere between lust and confusion as he stared at her. His chest heaved up and down, just as hers did. With a shaking hand, she rubbed her fingers over her lips.
"This was a mistake."
"It wasn't, Vee. It isn't. Couldn't you feel it then? The electricity?"
Her lower body clenched at its mention. Stubbornly, she shook her head. His jaw tightened, and that was the only warning she got. He anchored his hand behind her neck again, drawing her mouth closer to his with a gentle pull. With his free hand, he began unbuttoning her shirt. She groaned when his fingers drifted across the lace of her bra, brushing over her nipples, which were nothing more than hard peaks of sensitivity. Arching her back, she forced him to cup her, sighing into his mouth when he began kneading her flesh.
Beau broke their kiss to pull off his own shirt, and Vee's breath shuddered from her lungs. His body was sculpted and honed to perfection. He had a phoenix tattoo spanning the breadth of his chest, stopping just under what would be the neckline of a shirt, and finishing down near his navel. She reached up, her fingertips touching the hot skin above his heart.
“Our tattoo,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
She looked up into his piercing eyes. "It’s beautiful," she murmured, suddenly distracted. "When did you get it?"
His hand on her cheek drew her eyes back to his face. "As soon as I could afford it." He kissed her again, more slowly this time. "I've always loved you, Vee. Now do you believe me?"
She'd never doubted it, but it didn't change things. He kissed her once more, and she let him. After today, she wouldn't let him touch her or kiss her again. A sharp pain lanced through her heart at the thought. She mourned the loss of him, even though she didn't really have him in the first place.
"Don't think about it," he whispered, lowering his head to her neck and placing kisses all along the column of her throat. When he bit down on her neck, she sucked in a hiss. "That's still your spot, huh?" he said with a low chuckle.
Her lust stoked, she reached out, running her fingers down his torso, feeling them undulate gently over the bulge of his abdominal muscles. He was perfect and, for a brief time, he had been hers.
He could be yours again now, a voice at the back of her mind whispered temptingly. Maybe this was just what she needed. Fuck him and then leave him. Yes. That's what she would do. Her hands came to rest on the waistband of his jeans. She looked down between their bodies, memories flashing behind her eyes. How many times had they done this before? Countless times, and they had all been good. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she undid the button on his pants and let them fall to the ground.
She bit her bottom lip as she took him in.
"I've missed that look on your face," he said. Cupping the back of her head again, he kissed her roughly, pushing his tongue into her mouth. She opened for him, reveling in the feel of his invading tongue and the scrape of his stubbled chin against her. She yelped in surprise when he lifted her up and set her on the desk. Breathing heavily, he touched his forehead to hers and stayed there. "I've missed you, Vee."
Feeling the tears sitting in her eyes, she squeezed them shut and threw her head back, giving him access to her throat, her collarbones, her breasts. He nibbled at one of her nipples, first sucking one into his mouth through her bra, then the other. The friction, the sensation of his wet tongue on her quaking flesh nearly undid her. She groaned, her fingers digging into his scalp, holding him in place.
Removing her heels, he skimmed both his hands up her legs, sliding them toward the waistband of her jeans. With one violent pull, he undid the button and started to pull the tight denim down her legs. She lifted up, letting him take them down past her hips and peel them from her body. They landed on the floor with a dull thump.
He lifted his eyes to her face, and the lust she saw there gave her chills.
"Christ, the amount of times I've fantasized about doing this to you, about being with you just one more time—"
In one smooth action, he pushed aside her panties and sank two fingers inside her. She moaned at the invasion, her body stretching to accommodate him. It was as if no time had passed between them at all. She had missed this, had missed him. Slowly, he began pumping his fingers, sliding them in and out, making her writhe on her desk
. She arched her back, and Beau leaned down to catch one of her breasts in his mouth, his tongue darting out to tease her aching, swollen nipple.
She ground her teeth together when his thumb began to massage her clitoris, the rhythm of his pumping fingers only increasing her sensitivity. She remembered that this was how he had brought her to climax the first time they'd been together. She reached out and grasped his length, securing her fingers around his shaft, then slowly moving her hand to mirror his. He dropped his head, his breath hissing out of him.
"I don't want to finish like that." His words were soft and tense. He was close.
She gave him one last hard tug. "How do you want to finish?"
"I want to be buried inside you."
His request hung in the air between them. For a heartbeat she wasn't sure what she would say. She wanted him inside her too.
"Do you have..." She tapered off when he bent down to ferret through the pockets of his jeans. He pulled out his wallet, producing a condom. She watched him sheath himself quickly and efficiently before returning to her.
"I don't know how long I'll last," he said in a grunt as he positioned himself at her opening.
"Me either," she admitted, recalling the sex she'd turned down the other night. "I don't care though." She lifted her hips, forcing him to enter her. She gasped at the invasion, adjusting to his girth after a few crucial moments. Beau was silent except for his heavy breathing. And then, he began to move, and Evangeline thought her heart was going to give out.
"Fuck." Beau's strained voice drifted into her ear. She forced her eyes to his face, seeing the sheen of sweat on his brow. "You feel better than I remember."
"So do you," she replied, tilting her hips once more so she could take him further. They groaned in unison, and his pace increased.
"This can't be it for us," he said, his jaw tight as he fought his release. "Vee, look at me."
Her eyes snapped to his face, suddenly unable to deny him, unable to deny his dominant side. He thrust into her, more deeply than before, and she whimpered. "Tell me this can't be it for us."
She wanted to challenge him, but she couldn't. She wanted this. She wanted him even though he had irrevocably broken her in the past. Her stomach twisted with anxiety, but he thrust into her again. She was drowning in him—in everything he used to mean to her, and in what he still could. Would he break her heart again though? Was she willing to risk it all? She stared into his fathomless eyes and found her answer.
This can't happen again.
13
Beau's fingers tightened around Vee's thighs as he spilled inside her. Christ, the feeling of her inner walls clenching tightly around his cock was enough to undo him again. He opened his eyes to look at her, loving the look of passion on her face. She came and she came hard, her body quivering and quaking in the aftershocks of her orgasm. She was panting, the air being drawn into her throat in a rasp. Her eyes cleared suddenly and her jaw tightened.
"Get off me," she said softly, pushing him away. She stood up, putting her panties back into place and snatching up her jeans from the floor. He stood there, speechless for a moment.
"Vee? What happened?"
She stalked around to the other side of her desk, using the bulky piece of furniture as a physical barrier between them. "That was a mistake. I got caught up."
"Bullshit," he said between his tightly clenched teeth. "It wasn't a mistake, and you know it." He started collecting his own clothes, shoving his legs into his pants.
She glared at him and he probably would have wilted under that stare if he didn't know her so well.
"Whatever," she muttered, leaving the protection of her desk and stepping around him, but he wouldn't let her run away. His fingers clinched around her arm, dragging her to an abrupt stop. She glared down at his hand. "Let me go, Beau."
"Not until you tell me what's going on. Why did you let me keep going if you weren't sure?" He let go of her arm and ran both hands through his hair. "I thought you wanted this."
Her eyes softened. "I did want it."
"So what's the problem?"
"I just can't do this again."
His heart lurched in his chest, slamming against the cage of his ribs. "Vee," he began to plead.
She looked away and cleared her throat. "I think you'd better go."
He stood in front of her, tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I'll call you."
She said nothing, then opened the office door and waited for him to go. Although he wanted to kiss her and claim her as his once more, he respected her need for space and left.
When he arrived home, it was a little after eight. He found John in the kitchen, pulling two beers from the fridge. It was almost as if he knew he needed a goddamn drink. The whole drive home, all he had was his thoughts, his mind churning through every detail of what had happened in her office.
She had been just as he remembered, yet she was wholly different at the same time. He wasn’t so dumb to believe that what he put her through didn’t irrevocably change her. Elements of her were the same—the way she tasted, the sounds she made—but her reckless abandon was gone. She wasn’t giving one hundred percent to him, and he knew exactly why that was.
"How’d it go?" his friend asked.
“I think I might have made things worse.”
John’s brows rose. “Worse? How?”
Taking the proffered beer, he propped himself up against the counter. “After we had sex, she tossed me out of there—said she’d made a mistake.”
“She didn’t give you any other reason?”
Beau shook his head. “I just left... she clearly needs some space, so that’s what I gave her.”
“So that’s it?”
“That’s what?”
John crossed his arms. "I've never known you to just give up on something without finding another solution. When your mom was diagnosed, you tried every damn alternative therapy you could find. That tenacity is also another reason why you shouldn't give up on becoming an architect."
Beau begrudgingly gave him that. He'd given up on his dream career, had given up Vee because it was the right thing to do. Now, he had a second chance and he wouldn't waste it.
"Ah, there's that fire," John said, pushing off the counter he was leaning against. "Figure it out, Beau. Win back her trust."
He thought about it—really thought about it. She’d said she couldn’t do it again. She could’ve been talking about any number of things, but the main ones were sleeping with him again, having a relationship with him, and—at a long shot—fucking in her workplace again.
“She may be afraid to start a relationship with me,” he finally said, more to himself than out loud.
"I can't say I'd blame her."
Beau frowned. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
John put his hands up in surrender. "Chill, Beau. I just meant she's clearly been hurt, and I get that she doesn't want to do that again."
He took another sip of his beer, trying not to let the truth of the matter sting so badly. But fuck, it still hurt. He could only imagine just how Vee would've felt when he just ghosted from her life, then told her he didn’t love or want her. If he'd been able to do it another way, he would have.
"What do you want from her, Beau?" John asked.
He looked up at him. "Everything," he admitted. "I want the life I thought I'd lost."
John grinned. "So go and get it."
"It's not that easy."
"Sure it is," his friend replied, draining the rest of his beer. "If you want her, go and get her."
"But she said she couldn't do it."
"Couldn't do it," John said. "Not didn't want to."
Beau suddenly got a sinking feeling. "Oh fuck."
"What?"
"She has a boyfriend," Beau said hollowly. He ran both hands through his hair. "Why else would she be so adamant that she couldn't see me again?"
"I doubt that's it," John said. "Vee's loyal. If she had a boyfri
end, she wouldn't have even entertained the idea of fucking you. You know that."
John's words did little to ease the sense of panic that had risen within him. He sucked in a breath and let it out. "So what other reason is there?"
John gave him a condescending smile—an Oh, you poor, dumb bastard kind of smile. "You broke her heart, Beau. You need to show her you won't just cut and run from her life again."
"I wouldn't give up my second chance."
"I know that," John replied, trying to soothe him. "But she doesn't. You need to prove yourself to her."
"She's made it clear she actually doesn't want to see me again."
John shrugged. "Too bad for her."
14
Eight hours.
That’s how long he’d spent in his car in the last forty-eight hours, driving back and forth up the I-5. He was back in West Hollywood, determined more than ever to talk some sense into Vee. Since he had no idea where she lived, he returned to the club in the hopes that he’d catch her there.
After fighting to find a parking spot, he walked the six blocks to the club, trying the door and expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t. Stepping inside, he let the thing shut behind him before venturing closer to the bar. The place looked empty until…
“Can I help you?” someone asked him. Turning, Beau saw it was the same guy from before, the same one Evangeline had asked for help.
Striding forward, Beau offered his hand to the guy. “Beau,” he said.
He jammed the tablet he was working on under his arm. “Max. What can I do for you, Beau?”
“I’m looking for Evangeline Webster.”
Max nodded. “Well, she’s not here right now. It’s just me.”
Beau found himself looking around the empty club, as if his eyes needed the same confirmation his ears had received. “Right. Do you know when she will be coming in?”
“Not for another two days.” Max put the tablet down onto the bar. “Are you a friend?”
