The Beckett Boys- The Complete Series Box Set

by Olivia Chase

  She’d keep me straight, help me remember how dangerous he is. I need her voice of reason right now, because I keep thinking about how I could smell his cologne in the car and I wanted to reach over and touch his hair. His lips.

  I finish my glass of wine in record time and have another. What the hell—it’s a celebration, right? And I look pretty damn nice, if I can say so. I don’t dress up a lot, and it’s fun looking girly. The room fills quickly, and soon it’s buzzing with activity and laughs and people strolling around.

  I find myself starting to move to the music, swaying in my chair. The wine is sinking in, loosening me up. A couple of family members stop by and tell me hi, giving me hugs and kisses and wishing me well for my upcoming graduation.

  The wedding party finally comes in, and the crowd roars and applauds. The evening moves along with toasts, more toasts, people calling for the bride and groom to kiss, and alcohol flowing like water. We eat, they cut the cake, and Aubrey dares to cram a little in Smith’s mouth.

  After wiping her mouth, he gives her a heated look and whispers something in her ear. Her eyes widen and she pulls back to look at him, then gives a small smile. I can only imagine what he told her.

  The couple does their first dance, their bodies seamlessly attached, flowing to the slow song. Then the floor opens up and people rush out to jam.

  “Hi,” a deep voice says from behind me. I spin around and look up to see a dark-haired guy staring down at me. He’s pretty cute, dressed in a good black suit with a dark red tie. “Is this seat taken?”

  “She’s on the dance floor,” I say and wave at the chair. “You can take it if you need it, I imagine.”

  He laughs and sits down. “No, I wanted to know if…you wanted some company.”

  My face burns. “Oh. Duh, me.”

  “I’m Rick,” he says, reaching out to shake my hand.

  “Brooklyn,” I return. His grip is pleasant, though it doesn’t send any thrills through me. “So what do you do, Rick? Other than attending weddings, I mean.”

  “I’m in finance,” he says. “I do taxes.”

  We talk a bit. I tell him how I’m graduating with my bachelors in science and going on to get my masters. Turns out he went to my school, so we discuss various professors and courses.

  “Do you want to dance?” Rick says. He gives me a warm smile. “We are at a wedding, after all, and I haven’t seen you leave this chair.”

  “You’ve been watching me?”

  “You’re the prettiest woman here.” His smile grows bigger. He’s trying to be charming, and while it isn’t making my stomach flip or anything, he seems decent enough.

  “Okay, let’s go dance.”

  Rick takes my hand and leads me to the middle of the floor. It makes me think of my hand nestled in Jax’s earlier. Different experience altogether. Different reaction, too. But this is better. Safer. Nothing about Rick screams bad boy.

  We move together, swaying to the “Faithfully” by Journey. His hands wrap around my hips and he tugs me closer.

  “You smell nice,” he whispers in my ear. His breath is hot on my skin, and I smell faint tinges of liquor.

  “Thanks.” I feel him growing aroused against my thigh. Okay, that kind of makes me uncomfortable. I pull back just a touch so we’re not that close.

  “So what do you do when the tax rush is over?” I ask politely.

  “Oh, it’s never over.” He looks down at me and I see a frown line between his brows. “Tax needs are year-round. My work is very consistent and stable.”

  Wow, splendid. I can almost hear him saying he’s quite the catch. I stay silent for a moment. Maybe he’s just nervous or something. Trying to impress me, I guess. I can’t fault a guy for being a little awkward. I get awkward sometimes, too.

  Then he’s tugged from me, his hands releasing my hips with a small jerk, and I see Jax right behind him, hand clamped on Rick’s shoulder. Rick gives me a startled look before he’s pushed away and Jax moves in front of me to take his place.

  A hot flush of anger sweeps over me. I open my mouth to blast him about being so rude and presumptive when suddenly Jax’s lips are on mine, his hand cupping the back of my head, and I’m drowning in his kiss. Overwhelmed. Unable to think or articulate any words.

  His tongue slips along mine, deepening the kiss, and he thrusts my body against him; I can feel his dick growing hard in response to the heat building between us. My pelvis instinctively grinds along its impressive length, and my hands thrust in his hair, touching the seductive strands. His jaw is smooth from a fresh shave.

  Just as tantalizing as I thought he’d be.

  I’m dizzy and breathless and tasting him, and then Jax groans into my mouth and kisses me harder, hotter, messier, more intensely.

  Oh my God, this is a kiss unlike any other I’ve ever experienced. My belly is throbbing so hard, my channel clenching in raw need to be filled in the way I’ve never been. This man is owning me with just his lips, and it’s insane and powerful and commanding and I never want it to stop. It’s also sheer madness.

  Somehow I manage to get control over myself and jerk away from him, my body instantly screaming in misery from the withdrawal. I swallow and say as steadily as I can, “What are you doing? What…what just…”

  His grip tightens on the back of my neck and he leans toward me, his lips just a breath away. I can see the arousal in his eyes, how dark they are, how intently he’s staring at me. Like he wants to consume me bit by bit. And God it’s stupid, but I want it too, because I’ve never had a reaction to another human being like this before in my life. My nipples are hard and aching, my hands are shaking, and I’m insanely turned on.

  My body is pulsing with need.

  “I’m saving you,” Jax retorts in a low tone. “And if I’m not mistaken, you seemed to love it.”

  Irritation wars with arousal. I thump one fist against his chest. “God, you’re so arrogant. I didn’t need saving.”

  “That guy is a serious asshole,” he lobs back, capturing my hand in his big fist and then flatting my palm along his chest. His fingers stroke mine and his other hand slides down to caress my hip in a possessive grip. He begins swaying to the music, bringing me right along with him. “Trust me on this. And you’re welcome, by the way.” His cocky grin is over the top, like he’s actually proud of himself.

  I can’t help it. I laugh. A shocked, stunned sound that erupts from my lips. This man is just too much. I don’t even know how to handle it. He’s everything that’s wrong for me, but every ounce of my entire being wants him to kiss me again.

  The cockiness fades from his eyes and he laughs, too.

  “You’re crazy,” I declare with a shake of my head. “Absolutely crazy. I can’t do this with you, though.”

  “Do what, kiss me? Dance at a wedding?” His voice drops, and his fingers stroke the top curve of my ass, the thin string of my panties, through my fabric. “Get sexually aroused around a group of people?”

  My whole body burns and pulses in response to his wicked words. I need to fight this. He’s dangerous. Heaven help me though, I want to taste him again right now. “Why are you doing this to me?” I manage to ask.

  “Because I fucking want you so badly I can barely breathe,” he says so honestly that it locks the air in my lungs. This isn’t Jax the player. This is him, the real him, beneath the veneer—I don’t know how I know, but I do. I feel it in my bones. “And I got jealous seeing you dance with that polished turd. You deserve better than him.”

  “And I suppose you’re the better option?”

  “No, you deserve better than me, too.” And there’s the charmer again, dancing in his eyes, and my nipples tighten and pussy throbs.

  I’m growing so wet. The swirls he’s making on my ass are getting lower and lower. He releases my hand on his chest and slides it up my side until the thumb brushes the underside of my aching breast. I shudder in response.

  “You’re too good for me, but fuck if I don’t want t
o taste you anyway,” he continues. “I want to drop down right here and shove your dress up and lick that wet pussy. In front of everyone.”

  His words are so naughty, so unreal. They make me shiver all over, and I feel myself get impossibly wet, my panties soaked through the crotch. It’s clear this man has done sexual things I’ve never even dreamed of. Don’t go down this road, my brain tries to scream, sounding suspiciously like my sister.

  His hand moves down, and when his fingers dance along my bare thigh, playing with the hem of my skirt, I feel my body tighten with need. We’re in the middle of the dance floor, and this man is touching me like he possesses me, and I don’t know why but I’m dying for him to slip his hand beneath my panties and make me come right now. Despite people being around.

  Maybe even because of it.

  I’ve never had these urges before. It must be the alcohol talking, I sooth myself. The alcohol and the environment, which combined can make people do crazy things. It’s a one-time event.

  Maybe I can let myself give in a little bit to whatever he’s offering, I rationalize. Have a taste of the wild side—nothing too far, of course. I’m not going to have sex with him, after all. I’ll still have my virginity intact, but I’ll be a fraction more knowledgeable about how things work in bed.

  I ignore Della’s voice in my mind and shift up on my tiptoes, letting my mouth brush his. Nothing more than a soft sweeping of lips.

  That simple gesture unleashes him. With a deep groan, Jax grabs my waist, the back of my neck, and yanks me flush to his body. “You’re mine tonight, darling,” he promises.

  “I’m…not going to have…to have sex with you,” I pant to him, wishing that the words had come out stronger than my shaky stutter.

  The smile on his face is almost devilish. “I don’t need to fuck you to own you. There’s a lot of pleasure I can show you. Give me more credit than that.”

  He grabs my hand and leads me away from the dance floor. We’re moving around people, and my focus is solely on the broad expanse of his back in the white dress shirt. His hand clenching mine. His tight ass.

  I can see why so many women want him. Jax is a force of nature. I want him to sweep me away.

  We pass a table of several attractive guys who all look related, probably brothers, and Jax slows down as he eyes the group and they eye him back. There’s definite tension between them; the hostility is practically visible.

  “Who are those guys?” I ask Jax. They aren’t from my side of the family, that’s for sure.

  “Can’t believe Smith invited them here,” he mutters. “What the fuck was he thinking?”

  I want to ask more, but he pulls me away and doubles his speed, shooting them one last glare over his shoulder. He takes me to the outer edges of the reception hall, where the lights are dimmer and very few people are around. The crowd’s attention is on the dance floor. Jax nudges me into a corner and turns to face me, blocking me from sight with his back.

  “I need to touch that pussy right now,” he growls. “Tell me yes.” The irritation he displayed before is gone now, replaced by sheer lust written all over his face.

  “This is…so wrong,” I manage to say. My whole body is vibrating all over, and I’m clenching uncontrollably. The thought of him fingering me…with people around…it’s insane, it’s wicked. What if we get caught? I’d never be able to see these people again.

  “No one can see you.” Jax leans toward me, and his mouth sucks on my collarbone. I groan from the gentle suction. “In fact, no one’s even paying attention to us. We’re half behind one of the drapes. Trust me, nobody gives a fuck.” His voice gets lower, and I hear him swallow. “I just…I need to taste you. I want to taste that sweet pussy on my fingertips. Please.”

  My hips buck of their own volition at the thought of him touching me down there, my skirt hiked up, his fingers thrusting in me, panties shoved to the side. “Yes,” I find myself saying before I can think about it more.

  His mouth locks on mine again, hard and insistent, and I grip his shoulders and bring him close. When his fingers dance along my hem again, he tugs the fabric up this time, skimming my shaking thighs.

  “My God, you’re so fucking sexy it’s ridiculous,” he says against my mouth.

  No one has ever spoken to me like that before. No one’s made me feel this way. My body feels languid and burning up at the same time.

  His fingers glide above my panties and he flicks my clit, and I cry out against his mouth.

  “Yes,” he says on a deep groan. “Oh fuck, you’re so ready. Open up for me, baby. Let me touch that beautiful pussy.”

  I spread my thighs a little wider and he shoves aside my panties, and then his fingers are stroking my lower lips and I’m pressing against his firm hand. Heat boils in my belly, spreads through my limbs, makes me tremble with need. I feel wild, alive, dirty, wanton. This is so absolutely wrong, and I want it so badly I can’t breathe.

  When one digit presses into my soaking slit, I stiffen a moment, then try to relax and let him in.

  “Oh God, oh God, you’re so unbelievably tight,” he murmurs in awe as he pulls away and looks down at me. His eyes are so hot and hard on mine that I feel almost like he’s actually inside me. His finger pushes into my channel, and I swallow. “So tight and wet. God, you’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.” He does some kind of flick with his finger that hits my G-spot, and my body aches. “I want to pull your dress down and take your nipple in my mouth. Taste more of your skin.”

  I want that too, even though it would expose too much. The music pounding in the background, the voices not too far away, the clattering of silverware and glasses around me, it all vibrates beneath my skin and reminds me I’m in public, being fingered by the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, possibly the dirtiest man in existence.

  His thumb moves to rub my clit, and my orgasm starts roaring to the surface. My body tightens.

  “Yes,” he pants. “I fucking want it. You come for me right fucking now, Brooklyn. Soak my fingers and let me taste your sweet come.”

  He continues thrusting that finger in me, his thumb rubbing more insistently on my clit. I’m so close… My head drops back against the wall, and I gasp.

  His mouth clamps on my throat and he bites down—with the small surge of pain on my flesh, that does it for me. I explode on his fingers, gushing all over his expert hands, my body shaking so hard I can hardly stand. He continues, relentless, making my orgasm stretch on and on for what feels like forever.

  “Such a good girl,” Jax breathes as he rains small kisses along my jaw. I reach my hands up to wind my arms around his neck, and he adjusts my panties and tugs down my skirt. “Fuck.” He closes his eyes, and I almost want to come again just seeing the pleasure on his face.

  Pleasure for me.

  Pleasure for making me have an orgasm with only his hands.

  If he’s like this with fingering, how the hell is he in bed, with sex?

  I take a few moments and drag air into my constricted lungs. Jax keeps his hands possessively on me, stroking my hair, my hips, murmuring words I can’t quite hear against my hair. I can’t fight my body’s pull to him—I don’t want to leave this small corner, this little bubble we’ve created in this one perfect moment.

  I’ve never experienced anything like this in my entire life. And I just did with the guy who’s quite possibly the worst for me. Della would be so disappointed.

  The thought of my sister dampens my spirits a bit.

  Jax leans back and looks at my face. His grin grows crooked as he eyes me. “You’re looking a little flushed there, Brooklyn. Maybe you need something to drink?”

  “Very funny,” I say, straightening my spine. My body is aching for more of whatever he can give me, but I can’t let it happen. I’m going to be proud of myself for stopping now instead of doing what I want.

  And that’s letting Jax guide me up to his bed and show me what sex is like.

  He takes my hand in his—a gesture that’s beco
ming alarmingly familiar—and leads me toward the bar. When the bartender isn’t looking, he grabs one of the opened bottles of wine and takes it, thrusts it in my hands, then grabs a glass and guides me away from the bar.

  “This is stealing!” I say in a mock gasp.

  “Smith’s paid for all this shit anyway,” he replies. “We might as well enjoy it. Let’s drink out by the gazebo where it’s quiet. We can look at the stars.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea.” I’m actually quite touched he thought of it.

  As I follow Jax out the hotel door and into the garden, I keep chanting to myself that it’s just one night, nothing more. I can enjoy his company without my heart being in danger. We’ll sit out there and talk and drink, and it’ll be fine.

  No one will even need to know. It can be my secret.

  Jax

  “Jax, get me two shots of vodka,” Smith hollers from the other side of the bar, where he’s taking a drink order at a table. “Plus four Irish car bombs.”

  The crowd in Outlaws is boisterous tonight. I’m riding high from the atmosphere. For the first time in weeks, it feels back to normal again, with a crazy crowd ready for anything. Since Aubrey and Smith started slowly making the bar over, introducing limited food to the menu and changing the advertising, things have been…different.

  And not in a good way.

  The wedding was a week ago, but Smith is still wearing that smug shit-eating grin that I kinda wanna punch. Okay, I get it, buddy. You’re happy and in love. Good for you. Now fucking get your shit back together.

  I admit, it doesn’t help that I’m still irritated over him inviting our cousins to his wedding. Those guys are fucking dicks—and Asher said that at one point, a few of them were surrounding him and he thought he was going to have to fight his way out.

  Smith told me he invited them because they’re family.

  We don’t need fucking family like that around us.