“I’ve heard the way the men on your construction crew gossip.” Sawyer sent him a superior smirk. “Which is why I hire women.”
“Women gossip,” Joplin said.
“True. However, we wait until after work.”
“More coffee, anyone?” Beck started to rise.
“Thinks he can steer the conversation in a different direction.” Joplin tsked. “I have the perfect Beck story.”
“Fine,” he sighed. “Do your worst.”
“The night we landed in Amsterdam; second month of the tour. Beck wanted to see the famous red-light district. Not for sex, mind you. Strictly as a tourist.”
“Of course,” Sawyer said with a nod, barely keeping a straight face.
“You have to remember; Beck was a small-town boy. He wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen.”
“Oh, God.” Beck buried his face in his hands.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
♫~♫~♫
“THANK YOU FOR a wonderful evening,” Joplin said as they walked from the house. Her hired car waited at the curb. Beck waved for the driver to stay in his seat.
“You can still change your mind and spend the night.”
Over a few short hours, Sawyer and Joplin bonded like long-lost sisters. A fact that had Beck’s wholehearted approval.
“You’re sweet to ask. Unfortunately, my schedule’s tight and, wonderful as today was, the time I spent with you put me behind. I received a text from Bradly. He’s anxious for me to finish what he calls my pointless trip down memory lane and get back home.”
“Bradly sounds like a dick,” Beck said. “Who is he and why does his opinion matter?”
“I didn’t say I agreed.” Joplin tugged on her ear. “He’s my fiancé.”
“Your what?” Beck stopped in his tracks. “Seems like a bit of information you should have shared before now.”
“The engagement is new,” she said. “Sometimes I forget.”
He had to wonder about a guy who wasn’t important enough for Joplin to share his existence with her friends.
“Bradly must be a real dynamo.” Beck looked at her left hand. “Where’s the ring?”
“Skye asked the same question,” she grumbled.
“What was your answer?”
“As I said, the change in our relationship just happened. We’ll pick out a ring when I return to Los Angeles.”
Beck smelled a very stinky rat.
“When did he ask you to marry him?”
Joplin hesitated before saying in a rush, “Six months ago.”
Beck laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Six months, and you suddenly decide to say yes?”
“So?”
Beck bent toward Joplin, taking a good, long look into her eyes. When she could only hold his gaze for a few seconds before twitching away, he nodded. He knew exactly what she was doing. And so did she.
“Bradly isn’t your fiancé. He’s your beard. An extra layer of protection against Kane.”
“You honestly believe if I still wanted Kane, another man, three thousand miles away, would matter?”
“I don’t think he’d matter if he were three feet away,” Beck said. “However, a fiancé might make you stop and pause; a reminder why tangling up with Kane again would be a bad idea.”
“Goodbye, Beck.”
Joplin continued down the walkway without looking back. With a sigh, Beck jogged ahead, opening the passenger door.
“I hope to see you again soon.” She hugged him tight.
“At the reunion?” Beck shook his head. “Of all the people you need to convince, I have the least reason to turn you down. Yet, I have. Jax and Skye already said no. Honestly, do you think you’ll get a different answer from Morgan or Kane?”
“If I get one yes, will you change your mind?”
Beck had to give her credit, she never stopped trying.
“Have a safe trip, Joplin.”
“One more question.”
“If I hear one more thing today about Razor’s Edge…” Beck sighed. “I’ve reached my limit.”
“I can tell.” Joplin’s smile was filled with understanding. “What I want to know is related, but more on the personal side. When I see Morgan, should I ask him to call you?”
Part of Beck wanted to say yes, a big part. Five years was too long to go without speaking to the man who once was his closest friend. The other part of him wanted to curse Morgan to hell. As with everything connected to Razor’s Edge, his feelings went in a dozen different directions.
“He knows where I am. Always has.”
“Not an answer,” Joplin said.
“If he calls, I probably wouldn’t hang up.”
“Men. The way you suppress your feelings, it’s a wonder you have any relationships.” Joplin turned to climb into the car, then paused. “Find an answer about your marriage, Beck. Whatever must be done. Do not let Sawyer go.”
“Can’t hold on if she doesn’t want to stay.”
“Ugh. Wake up.” Joplin gave him a shake. “Talk to her. Open those gorgeous gray eyes of yours to what’s right in front of you. I think you’ll be amazed at what you see.”
As Beck watched her car drive away, Joplin’s words ran through his head on a continuous loop.
You’ll be amazed, you’ll be amazed, you’ll be amazed.
Nothing new. Sawyer amazed him all the time. Except Joplin meant something else—something more. And she was right, at least about the first part. If he wanted to keep his wife, if he wanted to be a husband in more than name only, they needed to talk. And soon.
Ringo waited by the door, ready for his nightly trip to the backyard before settling down in his bed. Beck thought about Sawyer in her room, probably dressed for bed, wearing the voluminous nightgown of his dreams, and groaned.
A wave of heat suffused his body as blood rushed from his brain straight to his dick. If he knocked on her door with a raging erection, his request of a heart-to-heart talk might come off as a bit disingenuous.
“I’ll wait until the morning during our run. When I’m in control of my thoughts and my body.” He patted his leg, an invitation for Ringo to follow. “Let’s go, boy. The backyard awaits.”
Fifteen minutes later, Beck paced his bedroom. The blast of cool air he’d breathed as he waited for Ringo hadn’t helped alleviate his problem. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Just the thought of another masturbation-filled shower session exhausted him.
Rather than toss and turn, he chose another option. Exercise his body until his mind had no choice but to shut down.
Beck stripped to his underwear and hit the floor. Ten pushups, twenty, thirty. He stopped midway through number forty when he heard an engine roar to life. Someone needed to get their muffler checked.
The noise sounded close. Too close.
Beck was across the room in a flash. He pulled aside the curtain just in time to see Sawyer’s truck back out of the driveway.
Where could she be headed at this time of night?
More curious than concerned, he pulled on a pair of jeans and without bothering to fasten the top button, grabbed his keys from the dresser. What else did he have to do at one-thirty in the morning besides follow his wife? With her out of the house on the way to God knows where, sleep sure as hell wasn’t an option.
Checking the window again, his frown deepened when the truck stopped a few yards down the road. Sawyer reversed the vehicle then turned back into the driveway. The engine stopped and the sound of a door slamming.
Whatever Sawyer’s original plan, obviously, she changed her mind.
Great, Beck sighed. On top of the sexual frustration that plagued his sleep, now he had an unsolved mystery to keep him awake. Sawyer seemed determined to slowly and surely drive him out of his mind.
With a roll of his shoulders, Beck stripped naked. At least his dick was under control for now. Before the situation to
ok another turn for the worse, he jumped into bed, hoping for a rare, blissful, dreamless night’s rest.
Beck barely closed his eyes when a tap sounded. He breathed deep as the bedroom door opened. The scent was unmistakable. Clean, fresh, with the same subtle hint of citrus that floated through his home twenty-four hours a day. Elusive yet ever-lurking. A wisp of temptation ready to taunt his senses without a moment’s warning.
Beck recognized the start of his dream; knew his part in the farce by heart.
“Sawyer?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
The slight husk of her voice, designed by God, he was certain, to drive a man insane, went straight to his dick. He barely contained his groan of desire/distress when a shaft of moonlight seemed to appear from nowhere to illuminate the bed—more specifically, the area between his thighs and abdomen.
Beck sat up, leg raised, sheet gripped in one hand, hoping to hide his arousal. He cleared his throat in a futile attempt to mask the need for her in his voice.
“Is something wrong?”
The question was ridiculously generic, but the best he could do under the circumstances.
Sawyer stepped toward the bed. She could have done them both a favor and pretended not to notice the significant tenting under the covers. Instead, her hazel gaze moved down his chest and settled on the poorly concealed bulge.
Licking her lips, leaving them wet, glistening, she stepped closer, close enough for Beck to touch—if he could summon the nerve.
Oh, Lord, how he wanted to touch.
Wait a second. He knew his dream backward and forward; something was different. As Beck focused on the details, the answer hit him like a ton of bricks.
Sawyer wore a t-shirt. And a pair of jeans. Not a robe and not the drool-worthy granny nightgown. His fingers tightened on the sheet, trying to grasp the implications. Either his dream had changed or…
“I’m awake.” The breath rushed from his lungs. “You’re really here.”
“Do you mind?” She took a step closer. “I’d like to talk.”
“Sawyer.” Beck let out a shaky sigh. “A long talk sounds great. But not tonight. You should go.”
“Why?”
She asked, and Beck was just in the mood to finally tell her the truth.
“Because if you stay, nothing will stop me from pulling you into my bed. And trust me, if I do, the last thing we’ll do is talk.”
“Oh.” Sawyer swallowed. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Beck demanded. “What the hell does okay mean?”
“You don’t want to talk? We won’t talk.”
Beck’s mouth fell open and Sawyer tugged her shirt over her head.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
♫~♫~♫
“NOW I KNOW I’m dreaming.”
“Trust me.” Sawyer moved to the snap on her jeans. “We’re both wide awake.”
“Pinch me.” Beck wasn’t taking any chances.
She paused in the middle of lowering the zipper.
“Excuse me?”
“Pinch me.” Seeing the expression on Sawyer’s face, Beck chuckled. “Pain isn’t a kink for me.”
“Then why ask me to— Oh! You’re still not convinced I’m really here.” She sent him a teasing smile as she shimmied her jeans past her hips. “A pinch would work. But I have something better in mind.”
Beck couldn’t think of anything better than a front row seat to Sawyer taking off her clothes. So damn beautiful, every inch of her. He didn’t think anything could be sexier than the neck-to-toe nightgown of his dreams. He was wrong.
Wearing nothing but a plain, white bra and matching underwear. Imagining she gave him the right to touch and kiss every soft, smooth inch of her, took his breath away.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked. At this point, he’d agree to anything.
Sawyer turned her back to him. His gaze followed the line of her back all the way to her cotton-covered backside. Saliva pooled in his mouth. Best ass ever. He wanted a bite.
“Unfasten my bra.”
She could have screeched her request, and Beck would have jumped to do her bidding. But the sound of her husky voice, lower than usual, commanding but a little shy, went straight to his libido—via his heart. The combination was almost too much for his Sawyer-starved body to take.
Beck checked his hands. His breathing might be a little shaky, but the rest of him was steady and sure.
He released the catch on her bra with the expertise of a man who knew his way around the intricacies of women’s underwear. Sawyer slid the straps down her arms.
The panties were next and as she kicked away the scrap of cotton, Beck could have wept with gratitude, his eyes locked on the most beautiful butt he’d ever seen. The ass of his dreams.
“I’m a little nervous,” she confessed, lifting his hands to her breasts.
“Could have fooled me.”
Beck pressed his chest to her back. Kissing the curve of her neck, his thumbs teasing her nipples into hard peaks. With a deep sigh, Sawyer tipped her head to the side, encouraging him to continue.
“Been some time since a man touched my breasts. Longer since one’s seen me naked. Funny. We haven’t shared our first kiss, which I think is very important. Yet we’re about to—”
He spun her around, eliciting a gasp of surprise that quickly turned into a moan as his lips found a magic spot just below her ear.
“We’re definitely about to…,” Beck promised. “Soon as we discuss our first kiss.”
“I recall you warned me if I stayed, we wouldn’t talk.”
“Depends on the subject matter. Can’t just grunt during sex; we aren’t animals.”
“You’re kind of beastly.” Sawyer made a happy humming sound as she ran her hands over his arms, taking her time as she moved to his chest. “In a good way. But I get your point. If we don’t talk, how will I know your likes and dislikes?”
“Where you’re concerned, I like everything.”
“Even this?” Sawyer bit his ear.
“Oh, yes.”
“And this?” she asked, her hand sliding down his waist to rest on his hip.
She brushed the curve of his butt; her touch was so gentle, he might have missed the sensation if he weren’t attuned to her every move, breath, and rapidly changing expressions.
“Keep going,” Beck urged. “I’ll let you know if you make a wrong move.”
Sawyer’s breath caressed his cheek as her fingertips did the same to the small of his back.
“You said something about our first kiss?”
“Right.” Beck cleared his throat. “People put too much stock in the first time. First dates. First kisses. First sex.”
“Tell me more.”
Before Sawyer could do more than let out another surprised gasp, Beck had her flat on the mattress. He leaned over her and grinned.
“Here’s my theory. If the first kiss is spectacular, where can you go but down? I say aim for a nice, middle of the road smooch. That way, you have something to shoot for.”
“Interesting.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Go on. Do your best not to wow me.”
Beck brushed his lips across hers—a small taste of what was to come.
“Do I detect a hint of doubt in your voice?”
“You never do anything halfway. Why should our first kiss be any different?”
“I’m a perfectionist,” Beck agreed, then shrugged. “Oh, what the hell. You’re right. Anyone can do mediocre. Let’s go for spectacular.”
Beck took his time. For all Sawyer’s teasing and bravado, she wasn’t ready for fast and furious. Instead, he gave her a slow, gentle build. And as kisses went, this one went so beyond the middle, the dictionary didn’t contain a word to describe where they landed.
As a connoisseur of the art with over fifteen years of dedicated experience, Beck couldn’t remember a time when he lost himself so completely with a woman t
hat he forgot technique and simply let instinct take over.
Sawyer was a perfect partner—perfect for him. Her taste, her touch, her everything filled his senses until he thought they couldn’t reach any higher. And then, they did.
“You’ve done this before,” Sawyer said. She gasped the words, both breathless and dazed.
“Once or twice.”
Her mouth parted, wet, smiling and asking him for more. Beck couldn’t resist. He traced her lower lip with his tongue, took another swipe, then deepened the kiss. On and on.
If the world ended then and there, his life would end while holding Sawyer, kissing Sawyer. With her kissing him back. He’d be content, but he sure as hell wouldn’t die happy.
Beck needed at the very least, another sixty years before he had his fill of her. Even then, he would bargain with God for at least one more day. And if granted his wish, a chance to turn a few more precious moments into memories, he would spend his time wrapped in Sawyer’s arms. Loving her body. Loving her.
Rather than waste a second of the here and now, Beck gave her lips one more kiss before moving lower, touching and nibbling along the way. He planned to take his time and be thorough. Might as well start at the bottom and work his way up.
“I like your feet.” Beck caressed the sloping arch.
“Honestly, you’re the first man to focus attention on my feet,” Sawyer said with a husky laugh.
“Even your toes are sexy. But they have nothing on your calves. Or knees. Or thighs.”
With each compliment, Beck kissed his way up Sawyer’s body. Her legs were firm and supple, thanks to all the miles they’d clocked. Strength and softness. The dichotomy described her perfectly, inside and out. The combination was sexy as hell.
“Beck?”
He was too busy to look up, but he heard the need in her voice and couldn’t miss the way her toes curled into the bed. He wasn’t the only one enjoying his intimate tour of her every slope and curve.
“Something wrong?” he asked, hiding a devilish smile.
“I have my nerves under control.”
“Good to know.” Beck moved between her thighs, first with his hands, then his mouth. Sawyer’s little squeak followed by a moan let him know he’d found his mark—with a bullseye.
ALMOST BLUE Page 16
