Chapter 33
CLOVER
Ijump when Beckett knocks on the door. I needed to take a shower when we got home and try to relax.
I love his family, but they can get pretty high energy.
Well, not Hayes. Mary, Brynn, Beck, and Lennon, though—whew.
Lennon clearly got the competitive Hollis spirit.
It was a blast, but definitely requires a few minutes of me time afterwards.
“Yeah?” I call out.
He opens the door and stares at me as I towel-dry my hair. “Are you avoiding me?”
“What? No. Game nights with your family are a lot, you know that.”
He shifts his weight and looks a bit antsy. “Are you busy?”
I blink at him. “Beckett, I have soaking wet hair and I’m wearing pajamas with hedgehogs all over them. I’m pretty sure that alone screams not busy.”
“Good,” he says, taking the towel from me and throwing it on the floor before grabbing my arm gently and pulling me towards him. “Come on.”
I plant my feet. “Whoa, mister.” He pauses, but doesn’t let go of my arm. “Where exactly are you taking me?”
He smirks and grabs my quilt off the bed. “Stop asking questions, let’s go.”
I protest again. “Beckett, I can’t go anywhere, I’m not dressed or ready or anything.”
“Clover Jane, get your shoes on.”
“No,” I object, but I’m not actually against whatever his idea is. I just want to see how riled up I can get him.
“Damnit, Lucky,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. I didn’t expect him to scoop me up like a sack of potatoes and carry me down to the door. “Do you want to put your shoes on, or are you going to walk around barefoot where we are going?”
I concede and slide into them, but he still won’t tell me where we are going.
We climb into the truck and he starts it up, flipping his headlights on and driving towards one of the areas I haven’t explored yet.
I haven’t had a ton of time, honestly. I’ve been here a few months now, but with everything going on and trying to make new schedules, it’s been busy.
We bump along the pot-holed road in silence.
After a bit of a ride, we are in the middle of a field.
It looks like it was tilled recently because it’s just a big square of dirt.
“What are we doing?” I ask, genuinely curious at this point. The sun has gone down and it’s dark, so when he slides out of his seat, my body starts to go into panic mode. I don’t want to be alone in the dark.
I’m not, though. A minute later, my car door opens and Beckett leans in to unbuckle me. He grabs the quilt he brought from home and throws it into the bed of the truck before he holds out his hand to me. “Come on, Lucky,” he says encouragingly.
I climb out of the truck and stand by him while he lowers the tailgate.
“Up you go,” he directs me, motioning with his head, and I climb up into the bed.
He disappears briefly and when he comes back around to join me in the bed of the truck, I realize what’s in his hands.
He brought a fucking picnic basket. An honest-to-God picnic basket, and pillows in the other.
He lays the blanket down and arranges everything to be comfortable before unpacking the picnic basket.
“I didn’t really know what to bring,” he admits bashfully as he pulls out crackers, squeeze-cheese, pepperonis, and a half-empty bottle of wine. “I also just realized I forgot to bring glasses.”
“Beckett, this is..” I trail off.
“Super lame?” He asks, looking at me with a scrunched expression.
“No. I’d say this is pretty cool beans,” I tease. He rolls his eyes and hands me some crackers and the cheese. We snack in silence for a bit.
“Did you bring me out here to be romantic or just to get a break?”
“A bit of both, honestly,” he admits. He packs his crackers back in the basket and takes a swig of the wine straight from the bottle.
I put the rest of the food away, moving everything to the corner of the tailgate, and we both lay back onto the pillows.
He pulls me against him so that my head is on his chest, and I put my leg over his comfortably.
“You’re not very good at taking breaks,” I tell him.
“It’s even harder to relax when someone’s trying to take half of your life from you.”
“She can’t take Lennon from you, Beck,” I say. I want to believe that, too.
“That’s not the only part I’m scared of. It’s the biggest part, yeah, but she can take more than that,” he says, his voice cracking a bit. I tilt my head up to look up at him, his expression barely visible in the dark.
“I’m scared she’s going to pull you away from me. I can’t lose you again, Clover Jane. I didn’t want to the first time.”
He tightens his arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Clover. I genuinely thought I was doing something that was good for you,” he continues. “You had these big dreams, and you were so ready to get out of Ashstone Ridge. I didn’t want to hold you back.”
I stay silent, allowing him to get everything off his chest.
“I was a fucking coward, though. I let you go when I should’ve gone with you.
I should’ve supported your dreams. I could’ve gone to veterinary school anywhere.
Hell, I could’ve even told you I’d wait for you; I’d wait forever for you, but I didn’t.
I was scared and took the easy way out. Well, what I thought was the easy way out. ”
He brushes my hair away from my face. “When you told me you loved me, begged me not to do what I did . . . it killed me inside. For a minute, I changed my mind. I was going to tell you I loved you too, that I had loved you for longer than I even realized. For a split second, I saw our lives. You had my babies, we had family dinners every week, and you didn’t move away.
But then I remembered the excitement on your face when you opened that letter and knew I couldn’t take that from you. ”
He runs the pad of his thumb gently across my cheek.
“I don’t regret it, because I have Lennon.
Listen, I’m not gonna run this time. I’d understand if you want to, this isn’t your fight .
. . but I’m not letting you go again if it’s my choice.
Clover Jane, I love you. I’ve loved you all along, and there isn’t a chance in hell I can keep going without being able to tell you that every day. I’m yours, if you’ll let me be.”
I’m not sure if he can feel me violently sobbing on his chest, but if he can, he’s being very kind by not pointing it out.
When I nod but can’t say anything else, he pulls me to him and presses his lips to mine in the most intoxicating kiss I’ve ever had.
So many years of emotions, all different, are poured into this kiss.
The anger. The hurt. The need. The safety.
I roll myself over him, straddling his waist, leaning over to not break our contact.
I kiss him over and over, and in between kisses, he asks.
“Will you let me love you, my Lucky girl? Will you stay? Will you let us be yours?”
When I breathe my answer, he pulls at the hem of my shirt, tugging it over my head. We are a mess of limbs, clumsy movements as we try to get each other’s clothes off as quickly as possible. I need my skin against his.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I’ve always been yours, too.”
He wraps his arms around me and pulls himself up long enough for me to pull his shirt over his head, kiss me, and lie back again.
I run my hands along his hips, stomach, and chest, taking in every bit of him that I can.
Years of physical labor have clearly done wonders for his body.
He’s always been pretty fit, but this is a different level.
When I move my hands back down his body and graze my fingertips along the V-cut near his hips, he groans.
He’s been hard under me the whole time, but when I touch him here, I feel his cock twitch and it makes me smile.
“Do you like that, Beck?” I ask lowly. He hums an ‘mhm’ and I do it again.
Same reaction. I slide myself down his legs lean over, pressing a soft kiss where my fingers just were.
I hear him suck air in through his teeth. “So sensitive,” I tease.
When I drag my tongue along the groove of his hips, a moan escapes him and he puts his hand over his dick, rubbing himself through his sweatpants.
“Nu-uh,” I tell him, tsking my tongue at him and moving his hand away.
He growls in frustration, which obviously encourages me more.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of his sweats and pull them down.
When his cock springs free, I’m a little shocked.
“Not wearing underwear?” I ask curiously.
He chuckles. “Learned from the best, I reckon,” he says.
The end of his sentence is strained, though, because I take him into my mouth, taking as much of him as I can fit before gagging.
Ragged breathing comes from him as I blow him, eventually relaxing my jaw enough to allow more of him.
I pull back up slowly and move my mouth away from him.
“Fuck, Clover. That’s so hot,” he says, almost admirably, as I replace my lips with my hand, pumping him rhythmically while I stare up at him.
The only light I really have to watch him by is the moonlight, but I’m grateful for it. Watching his mouth drop open as I continue to jerk him off, the way his eyes close when he moans, and the intensity in his eyes as I let go of him right when he’s close to coming.
“Clover,” he cautions. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ last if you do that too much, darlin’.”
I smile sweetly at him in response. I move to kneel beside him and kiss him, taking his bottom lip between my teeth and gently biting down. A deep moan escapes him, and it lowers more when I wrap my hand around his shaft again, continuing the rhythmic pattern.
“Fuck, Clover,” he calls out, reaching for the hem of my shorts. I wiggle out of them quickly and get back to the task at hand.
“Please,” he whispers, and I’m putty. He pulls me back to him and I straddle his hips, sinking down onto him a little bit at a time, letting my body get used to his size again.