Give It Up

by Lee Kilraine

  I don’t know why but that felt like she had just twisted the knife.

  * * * *

  I threw myself into work. With the gala less than a week away, we were slammed. It was all hands on deck, and I welcomed the distraction of the crowd of people moving through the house. All my brothers were here pitching in. There were painting crews, cleaning crews, the brick masons to fix a section of the sidewalk. Movers were carting in furniture doing a do-si-do through the beehive of activity. The sight of everything coming together helped steady me.

  “Excuse me, are you Beck?” a young chirpy voice asked from behind me.

  I turned to find a college-age girl standing in the doorway.

  “I am. What can I help you with?” I was in Denver’s study attaching the sliding ladder to its guiderail so it could slide along the wall of the floor to ceiling bookshelves.

  “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Jane.” She gave a half wave. “I’m helping out on the decorating crew today.”

  “That’s great,” I said. We needed every extra pair of hands we could find to pull this house together in the next three days.

  “It really is great,” she said, laughing and shaking her head. “I’d much rather be working here than for the two goons I was stuck with a few days ago. I think it’s very sad that I’ve already had my rose-colored glasses torn off at the tender age of twenty-two, don’t you?”

  “Tragic.” It was hard not to respond to her dramatic exuberance. She was like a friendly, energetic puppy. In time she’d realize how lucky she was to wear those rose-colored glasses as long as she did.

  “Right? Okay, give me a job, Beck. Don’t go easy on me because I’m a girl.” She smiled all wide-eyed and happy. “I’m tough and can handle it.”

  “Track down my brother, Gray, and tell him you need Denver’s books from the moving van. And then get them unpacked onto these shelves.”

  “Will do. Just to confirm, this is Mr. King’s study?” Her gaze ran over the shelves.

  “It is.”

  “Awesome. Then I’ll arrange the books by subject instead of based on the color of the spines.” She nodded. “Okay. Off to track down Gray. He’s the super-hot brother in the khaki pants with the nice crease, right?”

  “I can verify the creased khaki pants part, yes.”

  “I’ll find him. I’m going to shelve those books like nobody’s business.” Jane laughed and gave me a jaunty salute on her way out the door. “I’ll verify the super-hot part too.”

  You and every other living, breathing female.

  Chapter 26

  Samantha

  Holy cow, we’d pulled it off. I sat in my apartment, exhausted and, yes, still amazed that we’d wrapped up Lila’s house on time. We’d had to call in extra crews and work late every night this week, but we’d finished.

  Lila had been over-the-top with the final results. She was so happy she’d cried, which made me cry. Of course, they might have been tears of exhaustion too.

  Beck and his brothers had invited everyone over to Big Eddie’s to celebrate, but I’d headed home. I told myself it was because I needed to rest up for the industry insider open house tomorrow and the gala the day after that.

  The truth was I wasn’t feeling that celebratory. It felt like both the beginning and end of something important. I’d just gotten up off the couch to pour myself a glass of wine when the doorbell chimed.

  My gut twisted because with my sister back in Greenville and a text from Margo not five minutes ago with a “See you tomorrow, brat,” I had only one guess left about who it could be.

  “Sam… Can I come in?” Beck stood on my front porch looking way too sexy for my own good.

  My throat went tight. I wasn’t sure my voice wouldn’t croak, so I nodded, stepping back to let him in.

  “You didn’t show for the celebration at Big Eddie’s.”

  “No. I—it’s going to be a long day tomorrow. I thought I’d just get some sleep.” That sounded lame even to my own ears. “Why aren’t you there?”

  “I was. Until I realized the person I wanted to celebrate with wasn’t.” His eyes said so much more than his words. Their intensity pulled at me.

  I wasn’t surprised he was here when it felt like there was so much unfinished business between us. Yet, there seemed no way to finish it with each of us getting what we needed.

  “Can you believe how great the house looked when we wrapped up tonight?” Beck sat on the couch in my living room. I perched on my hot pink, floral Queen Anne chair.

  “It exceeded my expectations.” Seeing it all finally put together, staged, and ready to show off to the public had been an emotional moment. “It’s breathtaking. We made magic happen in that space.”

  “We did,” he said, his voice rough and gravelly, and I knew he wasn’t talking about the house anymore. “I don’t want us to end this way. It feels wrong. Especially after what you’ve come to mean to me over these last five months.”

  I felt it too. Torment over seeing something so magical turn awkward and stilted. But I didn’t want to talk about it. I couldn’t. I didn’t have words for what I was feeling yet. I was confused. After seeing my sister in tears, I’d reminded myself that there were some men who were users and takers. Whether they knew it or not. They didn’t know how to give back. They were closed off to emotion and didn’t let anyone get too close and interfere with their ambition.

  And Beckett was one of the most ambitious men I’d ever met. I’d seen his burning need for success. He’d aimed it at me in those early days when we fought for the job. It was too eerily similar to my father’s drive. My father didn’t care who got in his way. Maybe Beck wasn’t as cold-blooded. But there was an underlying and steady competitiveness to the way he attacked life. That was the part my head told me to steer clear of.

  The problem was there was also a part of Beck that was a sweet, solid guy. My heart wanted to throw myself at him and never let go. But seeing my sister’s misery was a timely reminder that that kind of man didn’t make a good solid anchor.

  Sitting a few feet away from him, my senses overwhelmed by the man I’d fallen for, his size, his blue gaze, the fresh outdoor scent mixed with warm male, and those damn hands that got me every time… My stupid heart didn’t want to hear it.

  “I guess I’d pictured this night differently,” he said. The chagrined expression on his face, acutely adorable. He stood, ran a hand around his neck before shoving it in his jeans pocket. “Anyway, it’s going to be very busy the next three days. I just wanted you to know it’s been an honor to work with you, Sam. And I’ve enjoyed our time together. All of it.”

  I stood too. Everything about this felt awkward, and sad, and wrong. So wrong.

  Beck walked toward me, closing the gap between us in just a few steps. Our gazes locked tight, as if they’d been fused together. I couldn’t pull mine away, and he must not have been able to either.

  My heart beat so fast it sounded like drums in my head. Something clutched in my belly. He was right. This wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a sweet, clean mutual end. It sure didn’t feel like that. I knew if I let him walk away right now, this feeling—this wrong ending—would stay with me forever. Was it fair to him to salvage a sweeter goodbye?

  He leaned down and kissed my cheek. The touch of his firm lips made a decision unnecessary as that ever-present spark between us flared up.

  “Please,” I whispered, placing my hand against his hard chest. “One last time?”

  Beck sliced one arm low around my hips, yanking me to him, his other hand fisted in my hair, a slight pain that sent a surge through my whole body.

  I couldn’t get close enough. I couldn’t think beyond knowing I needed more of him. Just one last time. I loved being pressed against him, his arm tight around me, his hand in my hair and his lips on mine.

  I o
pened my mouth and Beck’s tongue slid in. He tasted like sin, and I needed more as my body melted in his arms. My own hands kept busy. I ran my fingers through his thick hair while I pressed my hips against his as close as I could get them. I had no control over myself. His body felt big and hard against me, and I needed him.

  I moaned and his kiss turned greedy. He demanded more, and I was fine with giving it to him. In that moment, he could take everything I had.

  Just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more, he moved into me, turning me, guiding me to the bedroom. Beck towered over me, and then he sank to his knees, slid his hands up my thighs to my panties, and had them down my legs before I could catch my breath. He stripped off my clothes, leaving me naked in front of him.

  “Now you,” I whispered, reaching out as he stood, pulling his shirt over his head with his help. Next, I reached for the fly of his jeans, but he distracted me with his hands, wrapping them around my face. He gave me his mouth. How did he know I needed his mouth again? And his tongue. I needed them against my skin, on my neck, all over me.

  My own hands were busy stroking along his forearms, biceps, and his wide, muscled shoulders. My lips blazed a trail across his chest; every so often I’d pause and sink my teeth into his sleek skin. Just like the first time, I couldn’t get enough of him. It was a deep, dark craving for him that had been simmering all this time. It hollowed me out inside, leaving me empty and needing to be filled.

  “Christ.” He leaned down and pulled my nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. My back arched, and my hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

  “Yes,” I breathed, and he moved his mouth to the other side. His fingers replaced his mouth at my other nipple. It was rough and hot.

  “Beck,” I whispered, needing him inside me. I pulled his face up to mine, kissing a path from his chin, along his jaw, and up to his ear.

  “Now,” I pleaded, rubbing my hand against him, finding him hard. He grabbed a condom from his wallet before pushing his jeans down and off in two quick moves.

  His gaze bored into mine as he tore open the condom wrapper and quickly rolled it on. He came back against me, and his mouth took mine in a bruising kiss. I moaned into his mouth and pressed my hips into him. I felt the tip of his cock pressing against me. I needed this so badly. My hand slid down over his tight ass.

  He groaned and drove in deep.

  I held my breath as he filled me. My lungs gasped, and I remembered to pull in air. He moved, driving hard and deep, filling me exactly like he had in all my many dreams.

  “Harder,” I gasped, wanting it to never stop. I dug my nails into his back as my hips pistoned faster.

  He groaned against my neck but came into me harder. It was rough and wild. It was hot, and part of me wanted it to go on forever.

  My body tensed as my orgasm rolled toward me—fast. I reached for it. Heck, I didn’t just reach for it, I grabbed it, I threw myself at it, I embraced it with all I had, holding on and riding it up and over.

  His mouth was on mine, his breath ragged. “Sam.”

  I lay in the circle of Beck’s arms, memorizing the feel of them around me. Of the feel of his hard body against mine. I placed one last kiss on his chest, then forced myself to roll away and get up. Beck sat up, his eyes a soft gleam in the shadowed light, watching me slide into my bathrobe.

  “That was incredibly selfish of me, but I can’t find any regret about it.” Thank goodness Beck was generous enough to let us have that. A sweet ending.

  Maybe having to go rescue Jane from my father and stepbrothers had been a timely intervention—for me. The reminder I needed to protect my heart. The nudge I needed to move on.

  Because of Beck I’d learned that I needed something like this, someone like him in my life. Only with someone who was willing to commit. Who would open up and let me inside instead of holding me at arm’s length. Someone who would put me before his ambition.

  “No regrets here either,” Beck said. He stood and pulled on his clothes. But when we got to the front door where the small lamp on the foyer table threw out soft light, there was something on his face that squeezed my throat.

  He hesitated with his hand on the door handle, looking like he wanted to say something. Instead, he nodded once. “Good night, Sam.”

  “Night, Beck.” I watched him walk down my sidewalk to his truck. The finality of it made the backs of my eyes burn. As I watched him drive away, anger and regret swirled in my chest.

  The anger was white hot and clear. I was angry at my father and brothers for being such jerks my whole life that I couldn’t trust most men. But I was angry at myself too. Angry that I let them get to me.

  The regret was trickier and bittersweet. I regretted that Beckett Thorne didn’t do relationships. I regretted that Beck protected his heart like a diver in a shark cage. I regretted that I wasn’t strong enough or brave enough to fight my way into his heart anyway.

  And I regretted that I’d missed my chance to make out with Beck in his big, black pick-up truck.

  Chapter 27

  Beckett

  It was about time this day was finally here. If I thought the early days working with Sam had been hard—it was nothing compared to these last two weeks. Would it have been better if I’d known what had happened? What had suddenly changed for Sam? Maybe. But did it really matter? Sam and I had been a temporary thing all along. I’d been crazy to think anything else.

  And last night we’d said our goodbye. One I wouldn’t forget. We were managing to part as friends—of a sort. Definitely not enemies. Some things just weren’t meant to be. If that were the case though, the idea of saying goodbye to Sam shouldn’t be pressing on my chest like a weight too heavy to carry.

  Hell, I was certifiable if I was letting this thing with Sam distract me from today. Today was the open house pre-gala for industry insiders. There were lots of connections to make. Namely, today would be the perfect opportunity to cast the net for interested investors. Or a partnership. Better yet, a referral for the next big job.

  The house had turned out spectacular. Each room better than the next. The article in House Beautiful had created buzz and helped sell gala tickets. I’m not sure I’d call it chi flow, but standing in the foyer, there was a special feeling in the space.

  The dining room was elegant and breathtaking. The his and her studies were a perfect display of two very different personalities and energies. Yes, I said energies. I’m not sure if I bought Lila’s whole mixed up philosophy, but seeing the house today, yeah, I’d say good energy was flowing. Maybe Lila wasn’t so crazy after all.

  The formal living room ended up bohemian chic. A room that made you want to sit down in it and relax. The kitchen was like an updated French farm kitchen with all the bells and whistles a chef could want.

  Fresh flowers adorned tables throughout the house and out on the back patio. The mild fall weather made setting up the food and drinks outside an easy choice and helped with the flow inside.

  Gray, Wyatt, and I each circulated, representing SBC. Sam and Margo were mingling, taking compliments and answering questions. Lila and her assistant were happily working the rooms. If the number of business cards that I collected meant anything, I’d say this job had done everything we needed it to and more.

  Five hours later the event was finally winding down when Sam and I had a chance to cross paths and catch a break from the effusive crowd. We both escaped to the back patio and the coolness of the December evening.

  “Wow, Beck, I don’t know about the reactions you’ve been hearing, but I think we’ve made an impression on people. We’ve received lots of interest about future projects. I even had someone ask if they could hire us both again. Crazy, right?”

  I laughed because it didn’t sound that crazy. And that fact—that working with Sam again didn’t sound crazy—was crazy. “I think we pulled off the perfect collabor
ation.”

  “Thorne, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

  I turned at the sound of Dean Devine’s voice. He stood on the edge of the patio, looking around the yard, before walking over to us.

  “Dean. Glad you could make it.” I wasn’t surprised to see him here. When you talked about industry insiders, you couldn’t get much more inside that Dean Devine.

  “Hey, Sam,” Dean said distractedly. “Solid work, Thorne. I’m impressed. You’ve done some unique work.” He clapped a hand on my back.

  “Thank you, but Sam deserves the lion’s share of the credit. Her vision really steered this project. Devine Designs definitely helped SBC raise our game to a higher level. Sam’s an amazing talent.”

  “Sam knows how I feel about her design skills. Isn’t that right, Sam?”

  “Yes, I believe I do know how you feel about my skills, Daddy.” Her chin notched up, and the look in her eyes told me she wanted to tell him no. Man, I wished she would.

  “So no need to be modest, Thorne. I took a look at your portfolio after we met a few months back. You know your stuff, young man. I can see your fingerprints all over this place.”

  I watched Sam’s face stiffen and the sparkle leave her eyes, and I had a violent urge to punch Devine in the gut. It was one thing for Sam to tell me about what an asshat her father was. It was totally something else to see it in action. I’d listened to everything Sam had told me about her father the night we talked long into the wee hours. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her—I did—but I was hoping for her sake that she was too close to the situation to see things accurately.

  Nope. Sam was right. Dean Devine might be a force to reckon with in the building industry, but as a father… He sucked. What kind of father could look around this amazing showcase of a mansion and not understand and be damn proud that his daughter was fucking brilliant?

  “No more than Samantha’s. You must be very proud of her.” I watched him look around the patio, toward the house, and inside through the French doors. His gaze darted quickly, not taking the time on any of the details. It was almost as if he were calculating the costs in his head, maybe even running a profit analysis.