“I have you,” he promised, in a silky, sensual growl that only stoked the pressure building inside her higher.
His hot mouth settled over her breast, teeth tugging at her nipple. The jolt forced out a keening cry and had her internal muscles clenching tight.
It was almost enough. She could feel the orgasm, just on the edges of her consciousness, waiting to suck her in. As if sensing just how close she was, Beckett stilled. He just stopped. Buried deep inside her. She was so hyperaware, she could feel the throb of him vibrating against her inflamed flesh.
Drawing back, Beckett surged, filling and stretching and rubbing in all the right places. Again and again, his hips pistoned against her, keeping up a quick pace.
Lacing their fingers together, he pressed her clenched knuckles deep into the bed above her head. His warm breath brushed against her skin, one more caress to her already overloaded system.
Alyssa didn’t realize her eyes were closed, bursts of light breaking through the darkness threatening to overtake her, until he murmured, “Look at me.”
Her eyelids popped open. Her vision filled with him. Staring deep into those roiling eyes, he was all she could see. All she wanted to experience.
His eyes were beautiful any day, but now they were full of the same need writhing hard through her, a safe place in the middle of a raging physical storm.
Joined so closely together, the pressure she’d lived with her entire life eased. The fear and rejection. Disappointment and loneliness. Doubts, insecurities and dread.
Beckett Kayne wanted her. Desperately. He was intent, tenacious, gorgeous and caring. A jumble of masculinity that infuriated, challenged and intrigued her. Somehow, his need for her soothed wounds she’d buried beneath a layer of feigned indifference.
They’d already been as close as two people could be, but for some reason this moment felt like more. An unspoken acknowledgement and understanding.
Before Alyssa could panic or process, her body overruled her brain. The orgasm shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. Welling up from deep inside, it engulfed every square inch. An incoherent scream scraped through her throat. Her body bowed and then convulsed, quivering with the force of her release.
Wave after wave crashed through her. She had no way of knowing how long it lasted—minutes, seconds, hours. But when she finally floated down from the high, Beckett was there, holding her. It took her several moments to realize his body was still strung tight with the inhuman grip he had on his own control.
Giving him a soft smile, Alyssa ran her still-shaking hands across his back. Her palms settled over his tight ass. Pressing, she urged him to move inside her. It was all the suggestion he needed.
She thought he was being considerate, seeing to her pleasure first before taking his own. And, no doubt, he was. But as she watched Beckett move, her gaze flitting from the point where they joined, up over his abs and chest to rest on his face, she realized it was more.
He was giving her more, holding himself in check so she could watch the same building awe, crashing pleasure and open vulnerability sweep through him just as it had consumed her.
Without thought, she accepted the gift. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him tighter against her chest. Against her heart. And didn’t break eye contact or the bond twisting between them.
His eyelids flickered, but didn’t close. His face went harsh, mouth open in a silent moan she would have loved to hear. His hands still gripping tight to hers, his arms bulged as he bore her deep into the bed.
Hips plunging, rhythm becoming erratic, he finally let go. She felt the kick of him deep inside and tightened her muscles to give him more.
A ragged groan ground through his straining throat, his body finally becoming lax with relief.
Collapsing half on and half off her, his mouth found her neck and nuzzled. A wave of goose bumps raced across her sensitive skin. Unexpectedly, her hips swiveled.
This time when he groaned, the sound was full of barely suppressed humor.
“Insatiable,” he murmured.
She shifted, meaning to move out from beneath him, but his hold on her tightened, keeping her in place.
It didn’t escape her notice that, despite the monumental orgasm they’d just shared, he was already hardening deep inside her.
Bending her neck, Alyssa brushed a kiss across his damp forehead, her lips curved into a soft smile. “Pot. Kettle.”
Tomorrow she might regret letting her walls down, but tonight she couldn’t find the strength to care.
* * *
IN SOME WORN corner of his brain Beckett realized he should probably make an attempt to put some distance between them again. But he couldn’t. Not with her lithe body wrapped around his, her skin soft and pink from sleep.
It was the middle of the night. Or maybe early morning. They’d come together several times, napping and nibbling on cheese and fruit in between. He should probably let her sleep, but now that he’d finally gotten her into his bed he couldn’t seem to stop wanting her.
His self-control was currently nonexistent.
That alone should have scared him. Once a loner, always a loner. He didn’t let people in—especially someone like Alyssa, just as damaged and jumpy as he was. But it was a little late for regrets.
And, really, he didn’t regret a damn thing. How could he, with her still wrapped around his sated body?
His mind spun, landing straight on the words his father had said last night. The more he thought about what his father had done, and the pictures he had of Alyssa, the angrier Beckett became.
He’d promised Alyssa the Bacchanalia was safe. Had pushed her past her point of comfort because he knew the edge of it would only make the experience better.
That someone—his father—had taken advantage of her vulnerability pissed him off.
It was his responsibility to take care of her. But he hadn’t done that.
Unable to suppress a groan of frustration, Beckett started to roll away, intending to get up quietly and leave her sleeping. But a stilling hand on his arm and her sleepy voice stopped him.
“Talk to me.”
Pillowing her cheek on her crossed arms, she pierced him with drowsy, peaceful eyes. Something sharp twisted in the center of his chest.
Her hair was mussed, a tangled halo of brown and blond. Her skin was pink, and across her cheek there was a crease from the sheets.
Snagging her mouth, he stole one quick kiss, murmuring, “Adorable,” against her lips.
Tucking her into the shelter of his body, Beckett relished the way she snuggled into his side, shifting her head from her arms to his chest. He wasn’t stupid; they had several unresolved issues they needed to discuss, but for right now, nothing else mattered.
Her fingertips played, making abstract patterns across his skin. The buzz of need was there, like the snore of a dozing giant, just waiting for something stronger to reignite the fire. And it would happen. No matter how often they came together, it was never enough.
Beckett always wanted more of her. Was afraid he always would. How bad was a craving when you could never get your fill?
But, for the moment, he was content to simply settle. His fingers tangled in her hair, swirling and tugging and letting the silky strands slide between them.
“What were you thinking about?”
A frown pulled at his mouth. Beckett’s focus trained on the opposite wall, although he didn’t really see it. “My father.”
He regretted his candid words as he felt a shiver snake down Alyssa’s spine. Digging his fingers into the nape of her neck, he massaged, hoping he could chase the cold away.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I like your dad.”
Beckett let out a soft puff of breath that sounded like a laugh but was far from humorous. “Don’t w
orry. I’m not overly fond of the man, myself.”
She waited a beat, her fingers stilling before resuming their careless stroking. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“No, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Trust me, I know.”
He heard her bitterness and hated that anything had scarred her enough to cause it. He wanted to erase the painful memories he instinctively knew were flitting through her mind. But he, better than most, recognized that nothing ever completely wiped the disappointments away.
“He could embarrass us both.”
“Yes, but he’d cost himself more than he’d gain by playing that card. The Bacchanalia Ball is well respected because they rigorously protect the privacy of guests. He publicizes those photographs and he’ll be blackballed. Considering he’s been a member for almost thirty years, I seriously doubt he’s willing to jeopardize that for a punch at me. And, really, that’s what this is about. It had nothing to do with you.”
Alyssa rolled her head so she could look up at him. “That’s awful.”
Beckett shrugged. “That’s reality.” He truly didn’t think his father would do anything with the photographs, but it still bothered Beckett that he had them. Their very existence left Alyssa open and vulnerable. And that wasn’t acceptable.
“What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“Between you two. I mean, everyone knows he kicked you out, but were you always antagonistic or did something happen?”
Beckett let his head fall back against the pillows, and stared up at the ceiling. It was a question without an easy answer. If anyone else had asked he would have given a quick, uncomplicated response—one more lie than truth.
But, for some reason, he wanted to explain to Alyssa. He needed her to understand.
Maybe it was the faint, dark tinge of gray outside the window, threatening to creep in and snatch away the comfortable cocoon they’d managed to build around themselves. Or the fact that never in his life had he felt this close to another person.
“He was never the kind of dad who would come home from work and throw a ball in the backyard while dinner was cooking. Hell, I could probably count on one hand the number of times my father was home before bedtime.
“He’s a very driven man.” Rolling his gaze down to her, Beckett tried to keep his mouth from twisting into a sneer.
Apparently, he failed miserably. Shifting, she reached out and smoothed her finger across his lips. “Like someone else I know, Mr. Relentless.”
Her mouth curled into a sweetly sarcastic smile, taking some of the sting from her words. For some reason, her easy banter made his chest warm and expand.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
Her eyes twinkled with barely banked mischief. Wrapping his hand around the nape of her neck, Beckett eased her up so he could cover her mouth with his. He needed her sweetness, that connection, if he was going to spill his guts.
They were both breathless when he finally let her go, and her body sank back against his. His hand still cupping her face, Beckett ran his thumb along the ridge of her cheekbone.
“My father wasn’t the inspiring kind of driven. He was the single-minded-obsession kind of driven. He came from nothing. His family had money until the stock market crash. They lost everything. He was raised on stories of what they’d once had. Fairy tales that left him starry-eyed and cold.
“He seduced my mother, not because he loved her, but because he wanted to marry her money. Got her pregnant and forced her family to accept him.”
A frown pulled at Beckett’s brows even as he smoothed a finger over the elegant arch of Alyssa’s.
“That’s why it pissed you off when your friend told you I was an easy mark.”
Wordlessly, he nodded. He didn’t remember the specific night Alyssa had told him about, but there’d been several just like it. Mason or Campbell or one of his other friends shoving spoiled little rich girls in front of him and suggesting the easy way out of all of his problems.
And he’d been tempted. Who wouldn’t have been? But he’d been bound and determined not to make the same lousy decisions as his father. He wasn’t that kind of man.
Refused to be.
Out of nowhere, Alyssa bracketed his face with the warmth of her palms and pressed a soul-stealing kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“Being you.”
He laughed, the sound a little more harsh than he’d intended.
Her quiet support and belief in his integrity made him...uncomfortable. He was far from a saint and over the years had made plenty of decisions that he regretted.
But the soft glow of Alyssa’s steady gaze made him want to be better.
“My dad made no secret that he had affairs. I don’t even know whether my mother cared, because she died before I clued in to what was happening.”
Alyssa shifted, creeping higher up his body. With deliberate motions, she flung a leg over his thighs and twisted to straddle him. Her heat aligned with his sex, but she didn’t move to bring them together. Instead, she simply sat there, watching him. Waiting. Offering him whatever he needed.
It had been a very long time since anyone had cared what he needed.
Gripping her hips, Beckett held her in place, relishing the comfort of her heat seeping into him.
“For the most part he ignored me. I tried not to let it bother me, but it did. My teenage years were a wild mess. I barely graduated from Collinwood. But I didn’t give a damn. I was too worried about chasing whatever felt good. I figured the asshole could buy my way into whatever college I wanted to attend. It was the least he could do since the only thing he cared about was amassing more money. Might as well give me some of it if he wasn’t interested in giving me anything else.”
Beckett heard his own words and realized just how pathetic they must sound. But when he looked into Alyssa’s eyes he didn’t see any pity there. In fact, what he did see made his heart ache.
Cool, clear understanding.
“Boy, did I miscalculate, but it was probably the best mistake I’ve ever made. The day I turned eighteen he showed up at home in the middle of the day.”
Squeezing his eyes closed, he tried to will back the devastating memories. He hadn’t thought of that day for years. Refused to waste precious time thinking about it. But now that the deluge had started...
“Stupid me, I was thrilled for about five minutes. I thought he’d come home to spend my birthday with me. I should have known, but couldn’t stop myself from hoping.”
A strangled sound startled him. Beckett jerked his eyes open to find Alyssa staring at him, a hand pressed over her mouth and her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Hell, he hadn’t even told her the worst of it.
For some reason, he wanted to soothe her. He was the one baring his soul and sharing one of the worst days of his life. But she was the one tearing up. For him. And he wanted to make that go away.
Because he didn’t deserve her soft heart.
Sitting up, Beckett wrapped his arms around her hips and shifted her forward. Her wet heat slid against him, coating him in the evidence that sorrow wasn’t the only thing she was feeling.
Her back arched and she ground harder against him, giving him permission and offering her body all at once. Beckett lifted her, settling her back down on his hard length. Her body gave, sinking around him and welcoming him in. A contented sigh slipped through her lips. Her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, holding him close.
There was none of the frenzy from the night before. Only the easy, comfortable connection. This felt right. Alyssa felt right. Like she’d always been there, just waiting to become a part of his life.
Seated deep, Beckett simply held her to
him, drawing from her strength and compassion. Her drive and determination. That buzz of energy and excitement that clung to her like an aura.
“He kicked me out. Told me I was eighteen and on my own. I wouldn’t get another penny from him. I didn’t have many choices. Crashed with friends for a couple weeks, but I knew I had to figure out what to do.”
The tears she’d been holding back finally slipped free, rolling heartbreakingly slowly down her cheeks one by one. Leaning forward, Beckett kissed away each of the salty drops.
“After a couple weeks I used my fake ID to get a job in a club. I’d spent enough time in them by that point that it felt a little like home, which I’d desperately needed. It wasn’t long before I was busting my butt and taking on more responsibility. I socked away every cent I could. Four years later, I bought the warehouse Exposed is in. It was run-down and needed a hell of a lot of work, but that meant I got it for a song. I spent every spare minute for six months fixing it up. Getting permits and a liquor license.”
Beckett’s gaze was unfocused, staring straight into the memories of a history he rarely revisited. “I was twenty-two and owned my own business. I thought my father would be impressed. Instead, he gave me crap for making my money in such a crass way.”
“Like screwing your mother out of her inheritance wasn’t even worse.”
“Exactly. But his memory is conveniently short where his own humble beginnings are concerned.”
There was more—plenty—that he could share, but he’d already ripped open enough wounds for one night.
Alyssa didn’t need to know any more of his humiliations, especially how he’d gone to his father three years after opening Exposed, desperate for an influx of cash to keep the place afloat, and begged for a loan. His father had laughed in his face.
Just the memory of the humiliation and rage he’d felt that night was enough to have sweat dotting his skin.
But he’d survived. Gotten a loan from another source. Thrived and grown and opened more locations. Now he was poised to take Exposed global. The thought of rubbing his father’s nose in his success was sweet.
Beckett’s hold on Alyssa tightened. He had a beautiful, exciting woman in his life. His equal both in the bedroom and the boardroom.
Captivate Me Page 15
