Trouble Next Door
Page 13
She didn’t want to hope that he might see something more in her than all the other guys she’d dated. Guys like Gage, who thought she was fun but lacking in substance. Hoping was dangerous and she’d been let down too many times before. By her exes, who thought she had nothing more to offer than flirting and flings. By her parents, who wanted to change her.
By herself, for quietly listening to all the insults and swallowing them like bitter little pills and allowing herself to be frightened of failure.
“Tell me I’m not the only one feeling something here.” Her breath stuttered in and out. “Take the pressure off, Beckett. Tell me the truth.”
A noise vibrated in the back of his throat—dark and animalistic.
“Please.” Her heart galloped. “I need to know this isn’t you scratching an itch because you’re lonely and nursing a bruised ego.”
For once, Beckett wasn’t able to hide behind his mask of impassivity. He wasn’t the logical, literal guy who made decisions based on calculations. A kaleidoscope of emotion shifted on his face—the war going on inside telling her that she wasn’t the only one feeling confused right now.
“Tell me.” She reached up and touched his cheek, her fingertips catching on the golden stubble that’d broken through his skin. “I don’t want to be your rebound girl.”
Beckett crashed his mouth down on hers, knocking the air from her lungs with one desperate, no-holds-barred kiss. McKenna’s hands curled into his T-shirt, holding him close as he pressed down against the couch. It was so wrong—he was supposed to want someone else, but satisfaction barreled through her as he groaned into her mouth.
No amount of reasoning could hold her back now. Not when his hands were tangled in her hair, his lips open and hard against hers. His large frame felt even bigger as he covered her, his leg wedged between hers.
“McKenna.” His teeth tugged at her earlobe, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin on her neck. “What you do to me…”
“Yes.” The word hissed out between her teeth, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. “Tell me.”
“Words are inadequate to describe you.”
She melted into him. Never before had a man said so little and affected her so much. But that was Beckett in a nutshell. Unconventional. Quiet. Perfect.
“Bedroom,” she growled. “Now.”
They stumbled off the couch and she dragged him to her room, her fingers interlaced with his. Her room was what she liked to call structured chaos, which meant that even though it looked a little crazy, she knew where everything was. On another day, she might hastily try to create some order knowing that he was her opposite—clean, minimal, orderly—but right then she didn’t care.
She only cared about having him. Now.
“Undress for me,” he said, his voice strained.
She stripped her Rainbow Dash hoodie over her head. The leggings came next, landing in a soft whomp on the carpeted floor.
“Bloody hell.” The awe in Beckett’s voice sent goose bumps rippling across her skin. “You’re magnificent.”
McKenna felt as though her knees had suddenly turned to jelly. How did he manage to do that to her? He could strip her back to her most basic desires with only a few words, like he’d somehow tapped into the very core of her. Like he knew exactly what she needed.
“Leave the rest.” His eyes swept over her, taking in the neon-pink lace of her bra and underwear. A set that made her feel good and was never supposed to be seen by him.
Yeah right. Like you didn’t wish for this very moment…
Oh, she’d wished, all right. But there’d never been any planning where Beckett was concerned. This was entirely off plan.
She climbed onto the bed and let her head sink back against her pillow. Her fingertips caught on the embroidery of her bedspread, trying to keep her calm for what was about to come next. Her hand extended out toward him.
“Aren’t you going to undress?” she asked, excitement and anxiety warring inside her.
“Soon.” The bed shifted as Beckett hovered over her.
His eyes were consumed by the black of his pupils, his brows knitted and his nostrils flaring. The intensity in his expression made her breath come faster as he studied her. Watched her. Scrutiny was something she avoided, but he’d pinned her with only his gaze.
“I want to see you,” she said. When he was quiet like this, she felt her own words bubbling up to the surface. The noise was her protection from the criticism in her head. From the worry that maybe he didn’t like what he was seeing, that maybe she should have done something better with her hair. Maybe she should have asked for a moment to freshen up…
“Soon,” he repeated.
She swallowed. “Please. I want to see what’s underneath.”
“You have,” he said. He pressed his lips over hers, the kiss far too chaste for what she’d imagined. For what she wanted to do, now.
“What are—”
“Shhh.” A crooked, charming grin tugged at his lips. “Always talking.”
“One of us has to.” She bit down on her lip.
“Why?” His hand had come to her breast, his fingers tracing the scalloped edging of her bra as if committing the shape to memory.
“How else are we supposed to know what one another is thinking if we’re not talking?” She hummed in pleasure as he plucked her nipple straight through her bra. “You know, there’s a biological reason why we speak. It’s very important, and sometimes I worry when you don’t say anything—”
“McKenna.” Her name was soft and silky, like melted butter on his tongue. “Humans actually communicate most information nonverbally.”
But that left things open to interpretation, and history had told her she wasn’t too good at getting it right. She thought things were going well, and then they weren’t. She thought someone liked her, but they didn’t…or not in the same way that she liked them. Nonverbal communication was ambiguous, difficult. Dangerous.
“Are you going to tell me to shut up, then?” She felt vulnerable now. Raw and open and terrified that he could see how much she wanted this to be real because it was probably splashed all over her face. Maybe she should shut up. Because the more she spoke, the more she let him in.
“No.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t be you without the chatter.”
“Chatter?” It didn’t sound like an insult when he said it.
“But I work better with actions than words,” he said. His lips probed hers, dissolving her concerns. “Close your eyes.”
She nodded, complying. Without her sight, everything else was amplified. Every other sense dialed up in intensity to compensate for the black behind her eyelids. She could hear things that maybe before would have gone unnoticed—the slight scratch of Beckett’s jeans against the silky bedspread as he moved. Then his absence.
“Don’t move.” He sounded farther away.
Then there was footsteps and McKenna’s heart hammered against her ribs. What if this was some cruel joke? What if he’d decided he didn’t want her and now he was making a stealth exit while she lay there, waiting?
She was slowly freaking out over his rejection—anticipating it—but the press of something at her ear jolted her. She felt the familiar snug fit of her earbud headphones in one ear and the brush of his lips at her other.
“Just to prove that words aren’t everything.” His voice was raspy, ragged. “You can open your eyes now.”
Without waiting for her response, he slipped the other bud into her ear. The drone of white noise filled her head with nothingness. For a moment, the lack of context made her anxious, but when cool air blew across her stomach she almost launched off the bed. Her eyes sprung open and the sight of his wide, wolfish smile was everything.
“This is…” She had no idea if he could hear her or not. “I want you, Beckett.”
For some reason, not being able to hear her own voice above the sounds—and not waiting for a response from him—made her feel free.
Uninhibited.
Then the rough edge of his jaw brushed against her skin. She let her eyes close again as she lay there, feeling him. Focusing on the intense pleasure of his touch. Teeth. Lips. Fingers. Silk. Her skin prickled with awareness, her nerves firing on all cylinders and making blood fizz in her veins. If he wasn’t careful, he’d short circuit her brain before they got to the good stuff.
But that was exactly it. With Beckett, everything was the good stuff—it wasn’t about ticking boxes and saying the right thing. Or going to the right places. Or wearing the right outfit.
She could simply be herself around him.
The slow-burn build-up, the teasing, the games were everything she never knew she wanted. She opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it, and she had no idea if he’d caught her almost-slip or not. He moved farther down her body, his tongue swiping across the skin lower on her belly, almost at the waistband of her underwear.
Yes. Lower. Please.
Chapter Thirteen
McKenna was a vision. Correction, she was always a vision. But today she was a vision from the depths of his desires, from the part he’d locked away the moment he’d met her in the hopes his needs might slink off into the night.
Her vibrant purple hair was splayed across the shiny satin pillow. Breath stuttered in and out of her open mouth. She’d closed her eyes, letting her dark lashes rest. But it was the winding trail of her white headphones down from her ears connected to his phone on the bedside table that was doing unspeakable things to him.
He used the app with the white noise to help him sleep on nights when every mistake he’d ever made swirled around in his head. Never once had he thought it would serve a purpose other than sleep. But he needed to show her how he felt, rather than say it.
Because words were not his strong point. Never had been. He was a man of action, of decision. And sitting on her couch tonight, feeling happier than he ever had, told him something. Maybe his mother was right. There was more to life than chasing success. He craved the security that money afforded him because he’d never been able to get it anywhere else.
But he had enough in the bank to get by. He could delay his project and do it on his terms—slower, smaller. Independently.
And that meant he could be here, now. Instead of chasing the thing he thought he should have. The thing that had never quite felt right, no matter how much he’d tried to make it so. He could have McKenna. Now. Tomorrow. Next week.
Until when…?
Why was his mind already jumping to the future instead of simply reveling in her mostly-naked body? He shook the thoughts out of his head. It was the thrill of being able to cut the strings from his wrists that had his head swirling with possibilities. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
He leaned back and allowed himself to watch her for a moment. The way she pressed her lips together and writhed, as though her body was so alive with anticipation that she couldn’t stay still, made him grow impossibly hard. He rubbed a palm down the front of his jeans, trying to dispel some of the tension there, but nothing short of being inside her would relieve that need. Her eyes snapped open, as if she were trying to figure out where he’d gone.
“I’m not leaving you.” He brushed his thumb over her lips and she smiled, the serene expression socking him straight in the chest. It was as if she understood him even though she couldn’t hear his words.
As Beckett dragged the backs of his knuckles down over the patch of satin covering her sex, McKenna bucked. She was so beautifully responsive. So pliant.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”
He dragged the underwear down over her hips and she shifted, lifting herself so that he could undress her. Her knees immediately fell open in invitation. God, what had he done to deserve this? She was even more perfect for him than he’d ever let himself imagine.
Running his hands up the insides of her thighs, he leaned forward. At the first brush of his lips against her sex, she gasped.
“So sensitive.” He blew cool air across her flushed skin and a tremor ran through her.
Her sex was slick, her breathing shallow, and every time he touched her she almost launched off the bed. Nuzzling the inside of her thigh, he breathed in the scent of her excitement. “We’re not going to rush this.”
He wanted to learn every inch of her body. From the delicate bones at the base of her neck, to the tiny little mole hidden in the crook of her elbow. He traced the dip at her waist with his fingertips, loving how her body flared back out again over her hips and thighs.
All the while, her eyes followed him. Her shiny, pink lips parted with each gasp, with each kiss he planted on her body. For once no words came out—but that didn’t mean she was quiet. And thank God. Every gasp and mewl shot fire through his veins, stoking the burning desire that he’d been trying so hard to douse with logic and reasoning.
But there was nothing reasonable about being with McKenna.
He crawled up her body and drew one perfect, pink nipple into his mouth. Gently at first, and then harder, he sucked and rolled the sensitive tip between his teeth. Her hands flew to his head, her nails dragging against his scalp.
“Yes,” she moaned, her eyes screwed shut.
Was this what it was like with her? Every sensation was dialed up to ten. Her skin was silk under his palms, her lips soft and warm when he hovered over her for a delving kiss, groaning when her hips rolled up to brush against where his cock strained against the fly of his jeans.
Her blue eyes sparkled as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, showing him what she wanted rather than telling.
“Not yet.”
He had to taste her first. All of her.
His hands pushed her thighs even farther apart, pinning her legs to the bed. There was no hesitation when he brought his lips to her, no tentative exploration or gentle loving. He was direct and focused his attention right on that sensitive bundle of nerves at her clit. McKenna wasn’t able to remain quiet then; her cries filled his head as she came hard and fast against his mouth, her hips rolling and thrusting up until she’d wrung ever drop of pleasure from her orgasm.
Yes.
The word hissed in his brain, like steam escaping a pot of boiling water. Being with her felt so right. So perfectly right.
He traced circles on the inside of her thigh as she came down from the edge of bliss, joining the dots of the freckles and moles that were scattered like cinnamon across her fair skin.
“You undo me,” he said.
He found himself moving back up to her sex, desperate to taste her again. She writhed beneath him, still sensitive, but the squeak in her throat turned gravelly and breathy. Thighs trembling, she sank her teeth into her lower lip and Beckett had to force himself to concentrate on her lest he finish himself before he’d even got started. He dragged another orgasm from her and this time it was slow and sensual, the tremors lasting longer, her thighs quaking as they clamped against his head.
He eased her legs down and pushed up on his palms. The way she looked at him—eyes heavy lidded with arousal, lips open as she panted—was everything. Leaning forward, he gently tugged the earbuds from her ears.
“I want you to hear this, McKenna,” he said, whispering the words close to her ear. “You’ve got me so fucking wound up seeing you all laid out like that. I want to be inside you.”
Her lip trembled. “I want that, too.”
Standing, he tore his T-shirt over his head. The delicate muscles in her neck moved as she swallowed, and McKenna propped herself up to watch. He tugged on the belt at his waist, freeing it from the clasp and then he slowly drew his fly down. Her eyes tracked every movement.
“More,” she said.
He stuck his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans and pulled them down. Then he stripped off his socks and left them with the growing heap of clothing on her floor.
She sucked on the inside of her cheek. “Can I do the last bit?”
McKenna peeled his waistband down and his cock bobbed up against his stomach. Underwear forgotten, her hands came to him. Stroking, teasing, cupping.
“God, McKenna,” he ground the words out.
She left him momentarily to reach into the drawer beside her bed, and he pulled his boxer briefs completely off. When she produced a foil packet, he held out his hand but McKenna shook her head.
“I want to do it.” She tore the packet open and pulled out the condom, reaching for him with her free hand.
He’d never thought contraception to be something sexy, but the way McKenna rolled the rubber down his length, her fingers forming a tight ring around his cock, Beckett revised his position.
“You make everything feel good,” he whispered.
Reaching for his hand, she leaned back against the bed and pulled him on top of her. “So do you.”
He knelt between her legs and stroked her with his fingers, pumping one and then two inside her. Her back arched and her head lolled against her pillow, her features contorted with pleasure. No matter how much he wanted to string this out—to savor every damn second so that he could hold the memory bright and vivid in his mind—he was already at the edge. When his cock pushed into her, a feeling of completeness rocketed through him. It wasn’t supposed to be right…but it was. He thrust slowly, giving her time to accommodate him, but the second she hummed in pleasure and her fingers curled around his biceps, he knew they would need to go for round two tonight.
There would be time for a long, slow, sensual fucking later. Right now, he needed to push them both over. Together.
“Don’t hold back, okay?” Her lips brushed his ear. “I want it all.”