16. Rae
16
RAE
T he slippery feeling on my skin won’t go away.
My eyes blink open. There’s a hint of the sun coming through the curtains in our hotel room, but the clock says it’s nine.
Harrison is asleep next to me—unusual for him. I steal the chance to watch him, his aristocratic nose, firm mouth, thick lashes. Golden hair falls over his forehead, his firm chest rising and falling with his breath. The scar he’ll never erase, the one that seems carved into his brain as much as it’s carved into his body.
I’m starting to see the power of forgiving your past while it feels he’s going deeper into his. The worry he carries worries me, for him and for us.
I play with the bracelet still on my wrist, glinting defiantly even in the dull light. It’s nothing I would ever buy myself, but the more I look at it, the more I see me in it—the inscription, which makes my stomach quiver with an emotion I can’t name out loud, but also the cuff. It’s not classic jewelry, and it’s even more special for it.
He asked me to keep it on after we got back.
Since we returned to the hotel, it’s the only thing I’ve kept on.
Now, my body is heavy and languid in the best way, as it always is after a long night with him.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I pick it up.
Beck: Can you check on the house? I need to fuck off for a couple of days.
I’m not the kind of person to overthink other peoples’ internal worlds, but when I set down the phone, I can’t kick the feeling of concern.
The carpet is soft under my bare feet as I shift out of bed and pad naked into the living room, pulling the door closed behind me.
“Yeah,” Beck answers raggedly on the second ring.
“What’s wrong?” I ask under my breath, hoping I don’t wake Harrison in the other room.
“We’re done. I overheard my supposed girlfriend last night saying she was dating me to get on the show and help her own career.”
My ribs ache. “No. I thought you guys were good.”
“Guess you can’t change someone’s heart, you know? She wanted me, but she wanted fame more. The fucked-up thing is I would’ve given it to her if she’d asked.”
I squeeze my eyes shut against the hurt in his voice. “Where are you now?”
“The airport. About to get on a plane for a change of scenery. Shooting’s done for the drama, but I can’t even think about Being Beck right now. If I go on camera trying to live my life, I’m gonna break down. My producer would say the fans’ll be down with it, but he’ll want to vilify the girl.”
“It sounds like she deserves it.”
“I’m not the guy to decide what people deserve.”
Beck might be hurting now, but forgiving her will let him move on. I wish the rest of us could learn the same.
“Don’t leave LA,” I say as I hear Harrison stirring in the other room. “We’re flying back in a couple of hours. I’ll meet you at your place this afternoon.”
The bedroom door opens as I hang up.
“Good morning,” I tell Harrison, who looks rumpled and sexy as fuck. His hair is a mess, his blue eyes at half-mast. He’s naked except for black boxer briefs, the fabric stretched thanks to a very discernable erection, and every muscle and plane of his gorgeous body is on display. My throat dries.
“It is. But we could take a shower and make it better.” His eyes darken as he takes me in, and I’m already wet from his indecently slow inspection.
He wraps both arms around me, the heat of his skin feeling like home.
I hold up my wrist. “Is gold shower-proof?”
“Let’s find out.”
“I want to. You have no idea how much.” He rubs his erection between my thighs, which only makes me groan. “But I need to get back for Beck.”
“I have an eight-figure investment burning cash until it’s rezoned, and you don’t see me sprinting onto the plane. Though perhaps I should bring you with me to the hearing. No doubt you could charm that prick Whelan and his zoning committee.”
I stiffen. “Who?”
“Zachary Whelan. The head of the zoning commission.”
There’s not enough air in the room, and I pull out of his arms to get a glass of water from the bathroom.
Once I’ve drained it, I turn back to him.
“Harrison… I know Zach Whelan.”
“From what?”
“He was a friend of Kian’s growing up.”
He crosses to me, folding me in his arms once more. My skin prickles with awareness even though my head is a million miles away.
“Then you can charm him.” He curses. “Dammit, we should’ve figured this out sooner?—”
“It’s better I don’t see him. And don’t mention me to him.”
“Tell me you didn’t break his heart.” Harrison smirks. “If I learn you slept with him, I’m going to have to kill the poor asshole, and then I’ll never get my permit.”
“I’m serious.” My fingers dig into his muscled arms, and he frowns.
I don’t think he’s going to let it go, but finally he relents. “Well, we both have reasons to get back, but surely they can wait long enough for me to take you in the shower.” Harrison’s mouth descends to my neck. His teeth and lips send sparks along my nerve endings, making my body pull tight in arousal and distract from the dark thoughts in my head.
“Surely.”
* * *
“What’s in the bag? Weed?” Beck asks when I arrive that afternoon, a paper bag in my arms.
He peers in the top, eyebrows lifting. “Ice cream. Solid.”
We take it to the living room, Beck grabbing two spoons from the kitchen on the way.
“You gonna paint my fingernails too?” he quips, sinking onto the couch.
“Don’t hold your breath.”
He peels off the top of the carton of fudge marshmallow and takes a bite. His low groan is half satisfaction, half longing. “That’s good.”
I turn on the TV and navigate to the channel I’ve memorized since spending more time with Harrison.
“You want to watch soccer?” he scoffs. “You’re a terrible wingwoman.”
I say nothing, wait for play to end, and the cameras to zoom in on one of the players at the end of a sequence.
Beck shifts forward, frowning. “Yeah. Okay, sure.” He reaches for another bite of ice cream. “Half a pint of this, I’ll be nonverbal.”
I take the carton from him and scoop a bite of my own. The rich flavors hit my tongue, and I groan.
Beck cuts a look at the screen, a low rumble of laughter escaping his chest. “Shit. That the kid from the boat?”
Ash brings the ball up the field, his expression tight with intensity.
“You have two years on him. Stop pretending it’s a generation.”
The camera zooms out as Ash passes the ball off, gets it back. Then with a lightning-fast move, he redirects it toward the goal.
There’s no chance. He’s too fast, the ball slicing through the air.
The goaltender dives…
And suddenly, a defenseman comes out of nowhere to deflect the ball.
Ash’s handsome face is anguished, the camera showing him tug on his hair before running back up the field the other way.
The commentators speak overtop of the broadcast, stats I don’t fully understand appearing on a digital graphic on one side of the screen. Apparently, it’s been an up-and-down season for one of the sport’s most promising talents.
“Looks like he’s having a rougher year than I thought.”
Beck’s gaze narrows on the TV. “He doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself. He doesn’t know who he is.”
“You got all that from meeting him once and seeing him on TV?”
“How could anyone not get that?” Beck chuckles. “Things must be going well if you’re DVR’ing the little bro’s games.” The look on his face tells me he won’t put up with me holding back on account of his broken heart or for any other reason.
“He gave me this bracelet.”
I hold out my wrist, and Beck grins. “I’m glad he’s taken his head out of his ass long enough to know you’re the real deal. That’ll go with the dress you ordered.”
He points at a garment bag in the living room that I somehow missed. I shift off the couch and unzip the bag.
“All you need is a billionaire on the other arm to match,” Beck says.
“Harrison’s not coming.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“I didn’t invite him. Him being there would complicate things.”
“Seems to me if you trust him, you should give him a shot with the family,” Beck goes on. “The guy’s heavy handed, sure, but he cares about you. I saw it when he crashed our dinner. If you’re worried he’ll go AWOL and interrogate Grandma over spinach puffs, tell him to stay in his lane or he won’t get invited back.”
“It’s not my life I’m worried about him fucking up. If he talks to the wrong people…he’s not going to like what he finds.”
I thought Harrison knew my secrets, but this morning I learned there’s one thing tying my past to the future he wants. The one he needs.
I won’t put that future at risk, even if I have to hurt him to do it.
Before I can respond, there’s a knock on the door. A huge guy with a buzzed head is on the step, dressed in a black suit and sunglasses. There’s a handheld radio on his belt.
“Who are you?” I ask.
Those glasses slide down his face as he addresses me. “Security, ma’am.”
“Whose security?”
“Yours.”