by Kaylea Cross
Beckett tugged her toward him. When she stepped into the embrace he drew her into his lap and against his body. He banded both arms around her back, holding on so tight she could barely breathe. “Don’t go,” he whispered roughly.
The pain in his voice tore her up inside, but him wanting her here knitted it back together again. He was reaching out, when closing up would have been so much easier for him.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of tears and hugged him in return. “Okay,” she whispered back. “I’ll stay.”
She would stay with him as long as he wanted her to.
Chapter Eighteen
The waiting was the worst part.
Beckett shifted in the armchair next to his father’s bed and rolled his head from side to side to try and ease the knots in his neck and shoulders. It was mid-morning and somehow his dad was still hanging in there. He’d remained unresponsive throughout the night, his breathing becoming increasingly erratic. And Sierra…
His gaze strayed to where she was curled up on her side on the pullout chair in the corner, a thin hospital blanket draped over her. The stubborn woman had refused to leave, even to go home for a few hours’ sleep.
The sight of her melted Beckett’s heart. She had stayed. Would have stayed even if they hadn’t already crossed the line from friends to lovers.
It meant everything to him.
Though it was a horrible thing to admit, now Beckett just wanted this to be over. His dad had gone through a lot in his life, including losing the only woman he’d ever loved while she was in her prime. He’d never dated anyone after. If this was his time to go, then Beckett didn’t want him to suffer a single moment longer than necessary.
A grating rattle sounded as his father’s chest slowly expanded. Struggling for breath. God it was hard to watch. His mom had made those exact same sounds in the hours before she passed.
Sierra stirred on her makeshift bed. Her eyes opened. She blinked twice, then immediately sat up, her deep blue gaze darting to his father before swinging to him. “Hey.” She sat up, winced and put a hand to her neck. “What time is it?”
“Ten.” She’d woken at shift change three hours ago then gone back to sleep. Since then he’d spent way too much time watching her sleep. It was probably borderline creepy, but he’d taken the opportunity to stare, would have curled up behind her and held her except that he refused to leave his father’s bedside.
“How’s he doing?” she asked softly.
“Same. Breathing’s more and more labored all the time.”
She made a sympathetic sound. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”
“I’ll sleep later.” He wasn’t leaving his father alone for a second.
“And I’m guessing you haven’t eaten, either. Feel like some coffee or something?”
He could tell she wanted something to do, to help. “Sure. Thanks.”
She popped off the bed and stretched her back, momentarily drawing attention to the prominent curve of her breasts beneath her top. “Back in a bit.”
Loneliness hit him when the door shut behind her. He wasn’t great with words, preferred to keep his feelings to himself. Now he couldn’t.
He focused back on his dad, took that fragile hand in his own, and did the hardest thing he’d ever done. “You don’t have to hold on for me,” Beckett told him. “I don’t want you to suffer anymore. I’ll be okay, Dad. But before you go, I want to thank you for all you’ve done for me. You were the best father I could have ever had.”
He swallowed. Shit, he was getting so choked up it was hard to suck air into his lungs. “I’ll miss you, but I won’t ever forget you. It’s okay to let go now. Go see Mom, and give her my love.” He swallowed harder, squeezed that limp hand. “Love you, Dad.”
For some reason Beckett had thought that would do it, but as the minutes dragged past the tough old bugger still refused to let go. So, more waiting. But at least now Beckett had said all of the things he’d been thinking about throughout the night.
Sierra slipped back in with coffee and donuts. She gave Beckett a soft smile and handed him a cup and plate. “Apple fritters, fresh from the fryer. Your dad’s favorite.”
His throat was still too thick to answer. He nodded his thanks, accepted the coffee and the donut. They ate in silence, the horrible sounds of his father’s dying breaths rattling in the room. Beckett had seen so much death, but witnessing this had him about to crawl out of his skin.
When he set his half-empty cup down Sierra did the same, then got up from her chair and came over to wrap her arms around him from behind. “How you holding up?” she murmured against the top of his head.
It felt so damn good to feel her against him. “I’m okay.”
“No you’re not. And you don’t need to pretend with me.”
For some reason that made him crack a slight grin. “Okay. Then I’m the shits. This sucks ass.”
“Yeah, it does.” She kissed his head, rested her cheek on his hair. “Did you tell him goodbye?”
“Yes. He’s just stubborn.”
She huffed out a laugh. “See, you come by it honestly.”
“Guess so.” He caught her upper arm and pulled her around in front of him, then drew her into his lap for a proper hug. She settled against him with a sigh. She felt perfect there, and just holding her eased the weight of his grief. “I told him about us,” he said after a long pause.
“You did? What did you say?” Her fingers rubbed gentle patterns over his back.
“I said we were seeing each other. Know what he told me?”
“What?”
“He said ‘about time’.”
She tipped her head back to peer up at him, surprise lighting the depths of her eyes. “He did?”
He nodded, tucked her hair behind her ear. “He saw it even before I did. You and I together.” That was incredible to him.
“Well I’m just glad you finally clued in.”
He leaned in, kissed that smiling mouth. A slow, tender kiss that told her without words how much he treasured her, and how much it meant to him that she had stayed here through the toughest night of his life.
A soft knock sounded on the door. Beckett lifted his head just as Noah appeared in the doorway, dressed in his sheriff’s uniform. His shocked gaze bounced between him and Sierra for a moment. “Hi. Just thought I’d stop by before I head into the office.”
Sierra straightened but didn’t jump out of his lap. “Hi.”
Noah had to have questions about them, but to his credit he simply put his hands in his pockets and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “Any change?”
“Not really,” Beckett answered. Once he’d made it clear to Sierra what he wanted and settled everything between them, he would talk to Noah.
A long, wheezing sigh came from his father’s lungs, ending in the worst rattle yet. Beckett tensed and Sierra jumped to her feet. “I’ll get the nurse,” she said, and hurried out of the room, grabbing her brother’s arm to tow him with her.
Beckett grasped his father’s hand, fighting back the ribbon of panic trying to wind up his spine. Had he somehow been waiting for Beckett to kiss Sierra in front of him?
Two nurses bustled in, checked his father’s vitals and adjusted his meds before leaving. His breathing grew weaker, raspier. Beckett stayed right where he was, tracking the increasingly slow rise and fall of his father’s chest.
Death was never pretty. But taking every last breath with the man who had been his parent, friend and mentor, was tough.
Stop, Beckett begged him silently, unable to take any more, about to come apart at the seams. Let go. Please.
Finally, his father did.
His chest stopped moving. Beckett swallowed, the prolonged silence echoing in his ears, and shoved back a spurt of fear.
Wait. He bit the impulsive protest back. Saying it was selfish.
He reached for the call button, his entire body numb.
A nurse came in, went straight to his fa
ther to check him. She met Beckett’s gaze a moment later. “He’s gone,” she confirmed.
Beckett nodded, unable to find his voice. He’d wanted this to be over, but shit, the staggering finality of it shook him. He cleared his throat. “I just need another minute.”
“Of course,” she said gently. “Take your time.”
When she left, Beckett stared down at his father’s hand in his. Christ, I already miss you. A deep, searing ache spread beneath the front of his ribs. He pulled in a deep breath, then another. It was over. His dad wouldn’t want him to stay here any longer.
Digging deep for the courage to let go, Beckett leaned over and kissed his dad’s forehead. “Love you,” he murmured, then stood, every muscle protesting the movement after sitting for so long. With one last squeeze of his father’s hand, Beckett let go.
Sierra was in the hallway with Noah and Jase when Beckett exited the room. Her eyes were sad. “He’s gone?”
Beckett nodded, dropped his head on her shoulder when she came over to wrap her arms around him. He was vaguely aware of Noah and Jase murmuring their condolences, but all he cared about was Sierra holding him. She was the only thing keeping the cracked pieces of his heart together.
After dealing with the administrative stuff at the hospital, Sierra insisted on driving him home despite his protests. In all honesty he was exhausted, so he relented and let her take over, lacing his fingers through hers as she drove.
Another pang of grief hit him when the house came into view up the lane. He fought it off, not willing to face it yet.
The moment he stepped into the house, his defenses slipped. Familiar smells and sights surrounded him, haunting him with so many memories. Some happy. Some sad. Knowing his father would never again step foot in the house, hurt. He’d already known it on one level, but the harsh finality of it was damn hard to accept.
He glanced around. “Where’s Walter?”
“Ella’s taking care of him for the next couple of days.”
He nodded. “That’s nice of her.”
“You’ve got a lot of friends, Beckett. They all want to help you.”
They can’t help me.
Outside in the distance he could hear the muted roar of the ocean. Ceaseless. Rhythmic. Soothing. His dad had loved it. Loved this place, the house, the town and the people in it.
Now this house was Beckett’s, and that hurt so damn much it stole his breath. He struggled to contain his emotions. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”
Sierra watched him carefully, her eyes sad. “Sure.”
He walked to the bathroom like a zombie, stripped and stood under the pounding hot spray in the shower. Exhaustion hit him like an anvil. He washed up, wrapped a towel around his waist and brushed his teeth.
Catching sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he thought about shaving, but he was too damn tired. He needed to crash, and wanted Sierra with him while he did.
When he opened the bathroom door he found her sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for him. She got up and started toward him, her eyes drifting over his naked chest in a way that made his blood heat. His heart thudded against his breastbone, a strange combination of relief, gratitude and lust slamming into him.
She stopped in front of him, brought her hands up to settle on his naked shoulders. The touch of her soft, warm hands sizzled across his skin, spreading throughout his entire body within the space of a single heartbeat. Eyes searching his, she ran her palms over his shoulders, across his chest, her touch gentle yet possessive.
Need slammed into him, too intense to resist. He buried his hands in her hair and brought his mouth down on hers. She yielded to him with a soft moan, setting his whole body on fire.
He wrapped an arm around her hips, hoisted her off her feet and walked her backward the few paces to his bed. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, things he’d fantasized about and hadn’t had the chance to do yesterday. He needed to forget everything for a little while, keep the pain at bay and lose himself in her.
Sierra hooked her legs around his waist and pressed against him, her tongue stroking his. He laid her back and came down on top of her, pinning her beneath him with his weight.
“Need inside you,” he rasped out, a little light-headed at having her under him again. He couldn’t give her slow and gentle now, he was too amped up. So many months of guilty fantasies were about to come true.
“Yes. Don’t make me wait anymore.”
No. No more waiting. He was going to make her his right here and now.
Beckett came up on his elbows to give him room to peel her shirt off. She lifted her arms to help him, grasped his towel on the way down and tugged it off him. His cock sprang free, hard and aching.
He hissed a breath between his teeth as her fingers curled around him and stroked. A guttural groan ripped from his throat and for just a moment he bowed his head and allowed himself to savor the pleasure of her touch. Sensation burned up his spine, made his brain go hazy for a moment before he reined himself in.
He needed to taste her. Touch and kiss her all over. Claim her in a way no man ever had or would again.
With single-minded intent he set about getting her naked. The sight of her bared to him completely brought every possessive instinct he had roaring to the surface. He let her explore him at will, the brush of her palms and fingers intensifying the pulse between his legs.
Sierra arched her back and gasped when he cupped her breasts and nuzzled them, stroking his tongue first across one taut, dusky rose nipple, then the other. He sucked them, gentle at first, then harder, letting her feel his hunger for her.
Her hips moved restlessly under him, his cock rubbing between her thighs, and was gratified by the plaintive moan she made when he slid his hand down to cup her sex. She was soft and slick against his palm, his searching fingers.
“Beckett,” she whispered, her fingers digging into his scalp as he suckled her. “Now.”
“Not yet. Have to get my mouth on you.” He released her nipple to lick and kiss his way down the center of her body, his hands curling around her hips while he wedged his shoulders between her thighs. A low, gruff sound came out of him when he saw her glistening folds up close.
Without waiting, he settled his mouth over her, gave her a tender sweep of his tongue that ended over the swollen bud of her clit. Sierra gasped and bit her lip, eyes closed, the muscles in her legs and belly pulling taut. He did it again, again, easing her into it, then delved his tongue inside her, finally tasting her sweetness.
“Ah!” Her hips lifted against his mouth, her hands clutching at his head.
His hands tightened on her hips in a silent command for her to stay still. He tongued her for a few moments, savoring her reaction, then slid upward to focus on the rosy bud at the top of her sex. Licking. Stroking. Sucking softly, using her response to guide him.
When she let out a breathy whimper he slipped a finger partway inside her, pressed upward to rub in shallow strokes along her front wall while he used his lips and tongue to push her to the edge. Her body quivered in his grip, her moans turning to cries.
“Hurry,” she panted. “I want you inside me when I—” She shuddered, sank her teeth into her lower lip, her back bowing.
He was too hungry to wait anymore, the need out of control. Knowing he’d brought her this close with his mouth was an insane turn on. He rolled onto one elbow, reached back to dig out a condom from his nightstand and put it on.
Sierra sat up and started to shift to her knees but he stopped her, taking her back down to the bed. He caught her hands in one of his, slowly raised them above her head, asserting his dominance. She gazed up at him trustingly and relaxed, surrendering to him. Her eyes glowed like sapphires in the afternoon light streaming through the open blinds, her legs wound around his hips.
Staring deep into her eyes, he grasped her thigh and lifted it, opening her for him as he positioned his cock against her sex. The sound of their rapid breathing filled the r
oom. He loved that she let him pin her, control her. He needed it. Needed to take her, lose himself in her sweet warmth.
Fingers wound tight around hers, he flexed his hips, sinking a few inches inside her. Heat enveloped him, her body gripping him tight. A low groan rumbled out of him. God, she felt so fucking good…
Her lashes fluttered and she rolled her hips, lifting into him. Fighting him for more.
“Now you’re mine,” he rasped out, surging forward, burying himself in her slick heat.
Raw, intense pleasure swamped him. He moaned low in his throat and bent to claim her mouth. Sierra whimpered as he plunged his tongue between her lips and began to move his hips, a slow, sultry rocking motion that dragged every sensitive inch of him in and out of her slick core.
Sierra gripped his shoulders and caressed his tongue with hers, clenching around him. He barely had enough sense left to release one of her hands and slide his between them, seeking her clit. He stroked his thumb against it gently, taking his weight on his other forearm as he kept up the slow thrusts that threatened to melt his brain with the incredible friction.
So. Damn. Good.
Too close to the edge already, he let go of her other hand and gripped a fistful of her thick, glossy hair instead, watching her face. Her eyes opened a fraction then closed again on his next inward thrust, her lips parting on a moan so sexy it sent another shudder ripping through him.
She clutched at his back now, rubbing her pelvis against his hand. “I’m…” Whatever she was going to say dissolved into another moan.
God, he wanted to make this last forever, but he couldn’t hold out much longer. “Slower,” he commanded.
Eyes squeezed shut, face reflecting the strain as she approached release, she nodded.
It nearly killed him to slow down, but each drag of his sensitive flesh against her core made his muscles bunch, the promise of ecstasy so close he could taste it.
“Oh, God, like that,” she gasped, whimpering when he dragged the head of his cock in and out over the sweet spot just inside her. Then she tightened around him, cried out as she started to come.
