21. Willa
21
willa
Two hours later, we leave the mall. I’m sated and hyped up on the three orgasms Beckett doled out between the two dressing rooms. I’m also the proud new owner of three new bras and a weekly set of underwear.
There was something so thrilling about what we did. Knowing people were on the other side of the door as his dick was inside me was an experience I won’t ever forget. Though they were both fast and furious, I’ve never participated in anything as sensual, sexy, or hot. Had he tried to convince me to go for a third time, I could have been persuaded. There’s got to be a store in the mall selling condoms.
On the way back to Winterberry, I interrogate, “What else is on your agenda for tonight? Were you able to get out of whatever it was you needed to?”
While I tried on different bras, when he wasn’t driving me insane bringing the third orgasm by massaging my breasts, he was on his phone.
“I have to make one quick stop at the bed-and-breakfast to help my brother-in-law, and I promised you a tour. Have you decided on dinner yet? Chili at my parents,” he reminds.
Which I had forgotten he’d mentioned it this morning. Between lunch and covert sexual acts, his invitation got buried in my mind. As much as I’m not sure I’m ready for his parents to meet me, I have little to lose. Also, I heard the hope in his voice this morning. He’s optimistic I’ll join him. I can do this for him. Not in exchange for everything he’s done for me, but as a bonus.
“I accept. Though perhaps a change of clothes is in order.” I didn’t bother putting my underwear back on. Not with how soaked they were. My hair’s more of a disheveled mess, courtesy of Beckett’s fingers. I tried my best to tame it, but it was no use. Wearing the evidence of our tryst like a badge of honor out of the mall is one thing. In front of his parents is another level.
“Dinner is at six-thirty. My errand at the B and B shouldn’t take more than an hour, less if I’m lucky, but we should probably hold off on round three until after dinner. I want to take my time with you, not have to rush to shower and get dressed.”
I thought sex with Elias was good, the best I’d ever had, for sure. The best I’d ever have, I assumed. While he won’t ever be truly replaced, sex with Beckett is showing me what I was missing out on. It’s addicting, and as much as I want to get my fill, the more we do it, the harder it will be to give it up. To accept it’s over.
“I think hot cocoa should be added for tonight. And cake. Definitely cake.”
“Sure. However, Mom will have some kind of dessert, too. Probably not cake, but something festive.”
“Clem made sure I knew vacation calories don’t count.”
“And think how many you’re working off. Tonight, too. Anticipate little sleep.”
“But isn’t tomorrow a busy day? Don’t you need sleep?”
“The festivities don’t start until later in the day. After tonight’s stop, everything will be in place. We’ll sleep in.”
“We will, will we?”
Beckett peeks over at me. “After what I have planned, you’ll be too exhausted not to sleep in.” He smirks, and damn if it doesn’t send shivers down my spine at the mere suggestion of sex with him. Of being up all night. Of being so thoroughly fucked, I’m exhausted.
I rub my thighs together. Apparently, three orgasms at the mall aren’t quite enough of a fill.
“Willa, meet Lenny and Heidi. This is Willa,” Beckett introduces once we’re inside the front door of the B and B. He towers over his sister by a foot, but only a few inches taller than her husband.
Lenny holds out his hand for me to shake, but his sister pulls me into a hug.
“Shania hasn’t stopped talking about meeting another fan of the Hidden Clues Club. The way she’s carried on and on, I almost want to read it myself.” She chuckles, her cheeks blooming red.
“You should. You can still enjoy it as an adult.”
“Right. In my spare time, I’ll get right on it.”
“Which will be never,” Beckett explains. “The woman doesn’t know the meaning of ‘free time’ or rest, nor can she read.”
Heidi swats his arm. “I can read. I choose not to.”
“It’s iffy at best.” Beckett makes a so-so motion with his hand. The playful sibling banter is adorable.
I only have Clem, and being a twin has its unique circumstances, but I never wanted a brother. Not for any other reason than Mom and Dad’s attention was hard enough to come by. Having to share with another sibling—brother or sister—would have been tough.
“Shut it, Elfie, or I’ll spill all your embarrassing stories to Willa while you and Lenny bring down the boxes from the attic.”
“Actually,” Lenny butts in, “you’ve got to check on dinner so it’s set for the guests if you want to be on time for your parents’ tonight.” An unspoken conversation happens between the two of them, and she huffs.
“Fine. Only because of the thing.” She winks at her husband and brushes a kiss on his cheek. It’s easy to see the love shared between the two of them. “Come with me, Willa. I want to know all the things.”
“Uh . . .”
Before she can lead me away, Beckett leans next to my ear. “If you get uncomfortable, bring up Taylor Swift. She won’t be able to shut up.” He pauses, scratching his head, almost stalling. I try to conjure what he might be thinking. “She’s going to ask if there’s something going on between us. So we’re on the same page, what are you going to tell her?”
My heart flutters. I hate being put on the spot. More so about something of this magnitude, something I should have expected to come up.
In the long run, does it matter if his family knows we’re intimate? For Beckett’s sake, it might. He’s the one who has to deal with them once I leave.
I toss it to him. “What do you want me to say?”
“It’ll be hard to lie to my family, to keep my hands to myself, to pretend I haven’t licked every inch of your skin from head to toe.”
The mouth on this man. Goose bumps pepper my skin.
“I’m not the one who will have the questions to answer after I leave. So it’s up to you.”
In pure Beckett fashion, instead of responding with words, he leaves a kiss on the top of my head.
“Okay, let’s get to moving boxes.”
Once the guys are out of earshot, it takes Heidi less than three seconds to say, “So, you and my brother.” There’s little emotion attached to her statement, and I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
“I blame the snowstorm for making me stir-crazy and falling into bed with him.”
She nods, accepting the half-truth. “I’d be willing to bet the same’s not true for him. Especially after what Meredith told me.” She doesn’t elaborate, forcing me to follow her to the kitchen at the back of the house.
Though I spend zero time in kitchens, I’m wowed the moment I step into it. It’s large, modern, and welcoming. There’s a lot of white—cabinets, counters, drawers, the backsplash tile—with accents of gray on the lower half of the island where four stools offer seats. A huge Viking stove takes up most of one wall with one of those faucets mounted off to the side. Clem would know what they’re called. The white farmhouse sink is kitty-cornered across from the island.
My eyes travel around the room, taking in the expansive picture windows with a window seat along it presenting a view of the backyard. It’s covered in a layer of snow from the storm, but it seems to go for a bit before butting up against woods. There’s a door to what I assume is a pantry—probably much bigger than Beckett’s if I had to guess—and a doorway on the far wall leads to a communal dining area. Completing the look are high ceilings with wood-exposed beams and a rustic wooden floor. It’s every chef’s dream.
“This is a beautiful kitchen.”
Heidi beams. “Thank you. We renovated it about three years ago. Next year, we’ll start on the one at our other B and B to match. Though if not done before the baby comes, it’ll be stupid to start so late in the year with not enough time before the holidays. So maybe it’s a project for the year after that.”
“Congrats.”
Her forehead furrows. “On a kitchen?”
“On the baby?” I swear she mentioned baby. Did I hear her incorrectly?
“Oh. Right. The baby. Pregnancy brain.” She smacks her forehead lightly. “Shit. Do not tell Beckett or Lenny. And can you feign shock when we announce it tonight at dinner? You’re coming to dinner tonight, right? Beckett invited you? If not, here’s your invite.”
“My lips are sealed. Yes, he invited me to dinner. I’d offer to bring something, but I’m a disaster in the kitchen. Though we can stop and pick up some alcohol or something. Would that be good? What does everyone like?” Once I start rambling, it’s hard to stop.
She dismisses my offer with a wave. “Nonsense. You’re a guest. And Dax is always on alcohol duty. If there’s something you want, I’ll text him now before he goes to the store.” She pulls her phone out, poised at the ready for my order.
“I’m not too picky. I’m sure there’ll be something I can drink.”
She sets the phone down on the counter and sets to work making dinner for the guests. As she prepares the meal—roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a salad—she tells me about how she got into the bed-and-breakfast business, how she met her husband, too much history about Winterberry I’ll never remember, and as promised, embarrassing stories about Beckett. Those are my favorite. I don’t think he’ll be pleased to learn she spilled the beans, but he’s not the angry type either. Beyond the first night when he found out I’m not into Christmas.
“Do you provide meals every night?”
“No. We try to do our best during the busier seasons, but it’s not included in the room’s price nor is it advertised. Depends on how busy my week or days are or if I feel like cooking. I try to plan out when I’ll do it, but it doesn’t always work out. Some weeks, I’ll cook every night, especially if I’m mad or upset. Other weeks, I don’t cook at all for the guests.”
“Did you learn to cook from your grandmother, too?”
She smiles and places her hand over her heart, nostalgia washing over her features. “He told you about Nana. He can be such a pain in my rear, but he’s got this soft, sweet side that makes it hard to stay mad at him. Ever since he was little, I often forgot he was the younger brother the way he’d taken care of me. Too bad he hasn’t found the right woman yet. With his sympathy for everyone in spades, he’s going to make a great husband. ”
“You’re right. He will.”
My heart pangs. Lucky bitch.
She starts to say something else, but the guys entering interrupt it.
“The men have moved the boxes,” Lenny boasts, his chest puffed with pride. No one mentioned what kind of boxes needed moving, so maybe his pride is warranted.
Heidi rolls her eyes at her husband. “Knew you could do it.”
“Willa and I are off to change and head to Mom and Dad’s,” Beckett exclaims. To me, he says, “Did you hear all the embarrassing stories?”
“I did. Sounds like you were a bit of a troublemaker back in the day.”
Beckett glares at his sister. “Whatever she told you, I can top with stupid shit she did.”
Heidi goes to protest, but her husband wraps her up in his arms, planting a kiss on her lips.
Their love is evident. Blessed woman.
“Willa, we must escape before they make out. It’ll scar you for life.”
“Love you too, little bro. See you soon, Willa.” I catch the tail end of Heidi’s comment as Beckett tugs me out of the kitchen, down the hall, and out the front door.
“Do you need to shower or just change your clothes?”
“I’m kinda thinking I need to wash off the sex smell before meeting your parents.”
Beckett halts his retreat to the car. “You smell perfect to me.”
“You’d think that since it’s your fault I smell like this.”
“If I let you shower now?—”
I cut him off. “I’m sorry. If you let me?” Though I’m half joking, I’m reminded of my mission to rile him up. “How about I tell you I’m showering when we get home?”
“Great, fine. Then tonight, after coitus, sleep next to me still smelling like sex.”
“Nice use of coitus. ”
He bends in half, taking a bow. “Thank you. Do we have a deal?”
“Thought there wasn’t much sleeping going on tonight.”
“Wiseass. For that quip, I’m choosing your undergarments.”
“Not any you bought today. Those have to be washed before wearing.” I shudder at the grossness of wearing them without washing.
He scratches his head. “Damn. Really wanted to see you in the black and red one. Will it be dry for tomorrow if I wash it when we get home?”
“You’re going to do my laundry?” I squeal at the thought. Elias would barely fold his own clothes, let alone wash and dry them.
“Yes. Give me anything else you want washed.” My mouth opens, but the man anticipates my question. “I’ll do them on delicate. I think I even have one of those mesh bags leftover from . . . never mind. That’s not important.”
I cross over to where he stands, looking up at him. “You spoil me.”
He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “You deserve it.” He leans in, his lips meeting the top of my head. I’m going to miss those the most.
If this thing between us wasn’t temporary, would it have a chance of going the distance?