Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
BUTCH
I’m going to kill him.
I don’t know who him is, but I’m sure I can find out. It shouldn’t be too hard to find the dumbest motherfucker in The Peabody.
I push my boot closer to the floor, taking the speedometer as high as I’m willing to risk, considering getting pulled over would be highly detrimental to my current goals.
But not having Becca in this car is highly detrimental to my sanity, and life’s all about balance.
I swear I don't fully breathe until I can see the welcome center. I take the turn into it so fast, the tires squeal as my eyes scan the darkening lot. She better fucking be here, or there’s going to be a lot more dead bodies to hide.
And I can only fit so many in the back of this thing.
I coast past the front of the building, ignoring anything that isn’t a tiny, dark-haired woman in glasses. There’s no sign of her as the seconds tick by, making my chest tighter and tighter.
What if I’m too late? What if Alaskan Security got here before I did, and now she’s back with them again? It won’t be as easy for her to escape now that they know she can do it entirely on her own.
I’m sure her exit from the safe house was blamed on me. That they assumed I was the one who helped her. Good. It meant they didn’t see it coming when she was able to give them the slip again.
As I close in on the corner of the building, I notice a familiar head peek around the edge. “Thank fuck.”
I really didn’t want to take Alaskan Security on by myself, but I would have done it. She doesn’t belong to them.
She belongs to me.
Does that make me sound like the equivalent of a fucking toddler? Yeah. But no one will be surprised. I’ve never claimed I’m not a brat who likes getting his way.
I jerk the SUV to a stop, reaching across the seat to open the passenger door as Becca rushes toward me, her dark eyes scanning the lot as she goes. She’s so fucking smart, and only getting smarter. She’s taken to what we’re doing like a fucking fish to water, and I’m so goddamned proud of her.
But if she ever puts her fucking hand on another man’s dick again, were going to have a problem.
The second her door’s closed, I take off, grinding my teeth together as I decide how to tell her she did fucking amazing, but I also want to spank her ass at the same time.
Thinking about Becca over my knee, glaring up at me as I swat her behind, has my dick rock hard in a second. Partly because I know she would want to spank me back.
For learning purposes.
“You took long enough to get here.” Becca buckles up, head dropping back against the rest as she pulls in deep breaths. “I was so scared I was going to have to jump in the river if Alaskan Security showed up, and it is way too cold for that right now.”
My thoughts of spanking and being spanked screech to a halt. “Why in the hell would you have jumped in the river?”
“Well, I can’t outrun a group of mercenaries, now can I?
” She huffs out a breath, like the fact annoys her.
“My best bet was to jump in the river since they wouldn’t be expecting it, and likely wouldn’t check the water for me right away.
I was hoping by the time they considered it as an option, the current could have carried me far enough away I’d be able to escape. ”
Fucking brilliant. Her brain is fucking brilliant.
But she still touched another man’s dick.
“I need you to explain what happened at The Peabody to me.” I grip the steering wheel tight. “Don’t leave a fucking thing out.”
Becca groans. “Oh my God. It was awful.” Her head comes my way. “Have you ever tasted scotch? It’s like freaking kerosene. What is wrong with people?”
Again, she’s shocked me. “Why the fuck were you drinking scotch?”
“I was pretending to be interested in that guy so I could get my hands on his cell phone, and he offered to buy me a drink, so I had to drink it.” Becca says it like I’m stupid. Like I don’t understand the rules of showing romantic interest or phone theft.
“You don’t actually have to drink it, B. You just pretend like you’re drinking it.” I turn to find her fanning herself. The flush on her cheeks I assumed was from running all the way to the welcome center takes on new meaning. “How much scotch did you drink?”
“However much is in a double. I swallowed it fast so I didn’t have to taste it as long.” She grabs at the neck of her hoodie, yanking it away from her body. “Why is it so hot in here?”
“Because you just shot a double scotch.” I turn us onto the interstate that will take us to the motel room we rented yesterday. “Alcohol can make you feel hot.”
She’s not the only one feeling hot, but the steam rising off my skin has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with knowing she touched another man. “What else happened?”
“Ugh.” Becca wrinkles her nose. “I drank that stupid scotch and my insides caught on fire. I almost fell off my stool, and when I tried to catch myself, my hand accidentally landed on his penis.” She shudders.
“It was terrible. But that was what got him to pull his phone out, so I guess it worked.” She purses her lips, brows pinching in thought.
“I should probably remember that. When you touch a man’s penis, he’s more likely to do what you want. ”
“You fucking shouldn’t remember that.” I can only imagine what will happen if Becca figures out touching a guy’s dick can be used against them. No one will be safe.
From me. I’ll fucking kill every one of them.
“Why not? It worked. I got the phone. I gave him Owen’s.” Her face scrunches up again. “I did have to actually touch his penis, which is a pretty big downside, but sometimes you have to crack a few eggs.”
I try to take a deep breath. I know I need to calm down. I just…
Can’t.
“No more cracking fucking eggs.” I drive a little faster, not even sure what my endgame here is besides making her understand there are limits. “I don’t care what you have to do instead, but no more grabbing other men’s dicks.”
Becca stares at me. Her head slowly tips to one side, expression thoughtful. “Only other men’s dicks?”
I know I haven’t been around Becca enough to understand every aspect of her personality. But I’ve been around her long enough to know exactly where she’s headed. I try not to shift in my seat as I say my next words. “Correct. You can grab mine whenever you want.”
She’s only had her hands on my balls at this point, and I would commit unspeakable acts to change that fact.
Especially knowing she touched another man tonight.
It makes me fucking out of my mind. Makes me edgy in a way I’ve never been before.
Makes me want her to see what happens when it’s my dick she touches.
Because I guarantee she wouldn’t be thinking about switching a phone.
“Can I grab it now?” Becca’s question is immediate. It’s not hesitant or nervous.
And I can’t tell if she’s asking just out of curiosity or with intent. It doesn’t fucking matter. The answer is the same either way.
“Fuck yes, you can.”
I quickly find out the question was asked with intent, because in short order, Becca’s leaned across the console and her small hand is on me, sliding over the crotch of my pants as she feels around.
Her fingers trace the growing path of my cock as it stretches toward my pocket, filling out more and more of the limited space available.
“Yours is way bigger than his was.” Her words are a little breathless as she continues exploring me. “Can I put my mouth on it tonight?”
I am about to agree—tell her she can put her mouth on any part of me she wants—when something occurs to me.
Something fucking devastating.
“Shit.” I grip her wrist, pulling her hand off my body. “You’re fucking drunk.”
Worst goddamned timing ever. Now I want to kick that guy’s ass all over again. Not just because she had her hand on his dick, but also because he made it impossible for me to let her put it on mine.
“I’m not drunk.” Her face scrunches up adorably. “Just hot.” She giggles, her free hand flying to cover her mouth, eyes wide. “What the hell was that sound?”
“My fucking nightmare.” I’ve never heard Becca giggle before. I don’t hate it as much as I normally hate the sound of a woman giggling, but it’s still like fingernails on a chalkboard. Because it means she is absolutely drunk. Drunk enough to giggle.
Drunk enough I’d be taking advantage of her, even though I am quite positive she would’ve asked to touch me regardless.
I’m being punished for something. Not surprising. I’ve done a lot of bad shit, so I probably deserve this. It doesn’t make me any happier about it.
I continue holding Becca’s hand as we drive the rest of the way to the motel.
I park on the opposite side of where we’re actually staying, just in case someone manages to connect it to me.
When we reach our room, I unlock the door and let her in, immediately pointing to the bathroom.
“Get naked. We’re taking a cold shower.”
“What? I don’t want to take a cold shower. That sounds awful.”
“I didn’t ask if you wanted to take one. It’s not an option.” I lock the door and start peeling off my clothes. “You need to sober up, and I need to calm the fuck down.” I kick off my boots as I undo my belt. “And you need to wash any evidence of that prick off your hand before I lose my shit.”
Becca turns her hand, squinting down at her palm. “I didn’t touch his penis directly.” Her lips press into a frown. “But you’re still probably right. I should wash it just in case.”
She pulls off her glasses and sets them on the dresser, movements exaggerated as she grabs at her hoodie and tugs it over her head.
I catch it before it hits the floor, because nothing needs to touch the fucking floor in this place, folding it and setting it on the chair I covered in one of the blankets we brought.
I continue following behind her as she weaves a path through the room, discarding items as she goes.
It’s a hell of a difficult job, because Becca reveals more and more pale skin with each step, and it’s distracting as hell.
I manage to grab the cheap flip-flops we purchased for this exact sort of scenario as she reaches the bathroom in nothing but her socked feet.
Stepping in behind her, I wrap an arm around her waist to pull her naked body back against my still half-clothed one. “Lift up a foot.”
Becca doesn’t hesitate, but she points it out in front of her, moving it farther from my reach.
A hint of a smile works its way onto my face, because drunk Becca is actually pretty fucking cute. “Not that way, B. Bend it back toward me.”
Her lips purse and she seems to have to put a large amount of effort into the switch. “That does make more sense.”
Once I can get my hands on her foot, I slip the sock off and slide the flip-flop in place.
“Good girl. Put that one on the floor and give me the other one.” We repeat the process, and then I switch on the water, practically tearing off the rest of my clothes.
Once I’m naked and looking a little fucking stupid in nothing but a pair of bright yellow flip-flops, I pull back the shower curtain and urge Becca to the far end of the tub where she’ll be mostly safe from the tepid water.
Following behind her, I step directly into the spray while pointing at the white fabric barricading us in. “Don’t let that touch you.”
Becca grimaces. “Do you think it has semen on it?”
Even if it doesn’t now, it might soon, because the cold water isn’t doing shit to calm the lust raging through me. “There’s no telling what’s on it.”
She shivers, goosebumps scattering across her skin as her brown nipples tighten. “Maybe we should have bought a shower curtain.”
“Maybe.” A new shower curtain is the least of my concerns right now. “Give me your hand.”
She stretches one toward me.
“The one you touched that fucker’s dick with.”
Becca snorts. “Right.” She rolls her eyes. “Duh.”
Fucking hell. I can’t even with drunk Becca. She’s so different from sober Becca, but still just as damn irresistible.
I grab the sweetly scented body wash from the lip of the tub and pour about half the bottle into her palm and begin to scrub, washing every square millimeter of her skin.
Then I do it again. Just to be sure.
When I glance up, I find Becca watching me with hooded eyes, her expression dazed. That scotch must have hit her harder than I thought.
I step closer, a little worried she might be unsteady on her feet. “Are you okay, B?”
“Hmmm?” She slow blinks, eyes seeming to find a little more focus as they come to my face. “Oh. Yeah.” She rubs her lips together. “I was just thinking.”
I can ignore a lot of things, but Becca’s thoughts aren’t one of them. She’s too smart. Too detail oriented and too good at coming to conclusions. If she’s thought of something we need to consider, I want to know what it is. “What were you thinking about?”
“I was just thinking over everything that happened at the bar.” Again, she rubs her lips together. “And I’m pretty sure I might have accidentally sat on that guy’s lap too.”