20. Eloise
20
ELOISE
The night air is warm and sweet, filled with the lingering scents of fried dough, melted chocolate, and the faintest hint of Beau’s cologne. My stomach aches from the cyclone of butterflies absolutely losing their minds from the man next to me.
As we walk the last block to my car, our fingers intertwined, I can't help but marvel at the strange twist of fate that brought us together again.
In another life, maybe this would be the beginning of a love story. The kind of tale you tell your grandchildren someday, about a chance meeting under the stars that turned into something more. If I were a normal girl, living a normal life, perhaps I’d look back on tonight with a wistful smile, remembering it as the moment everything changed.
But my life is far from normal. And as much as some hidden part of me yearns to see where this connection with Beau could lead, I know it’s a luxury I can’t afford.
Not with the Gauntlet looming on the horizon, the promise of half a million dollars hanging in the balance. I have too much riding on this, too many people counting on me, to let myself get distracted now. Even by a pair of ocean-blue eyes and a smile that makes my heart skip beats.
As we approach my car, I feel a twinge of regret, knowing our time together is coming to an end. Beau’s hand is warm and solid in mine, his presence both comforting and electrifying. For a few stolen hours, I allowed myself to forget about the weight on my shoulders, the expectations and responsibilities that await me back in Avalon Falls.
With him, tonight, I could just be Eloise. I pretended I was just a regular girl, out at the local block party with a hot guy, hoping he’d kiss her.
But reality is waiting, and I can't hide from it forever.
“This is me.” I jerk my chin toward my car.
Beau glances at my car, then back at me, his eyes roaming over my face as if committing every detail to memory.
“Come with me for a second.” He tugs me toward him, his thumb rubbing slow, maddening circles on the back of my hand. He guides me into the mouth of a narrow greenspace between two darkened storefronts.
The brick walls rise up on either side, cocooning us in shadows. Potted hanging plants cascade down the other side of the wall in a green waterfall. Four red Adirondack chairs arranged in a semicircle, and two raised garden beds rest against the opposite wall.
The summer night air is warm and thick, the distant sounds of the festival a muted buzz in the background.
It’s cozy and romantic and perfect.
My heart races as Beau’s hands find my waist, gently backing me up against the cool brick. His body presses close, the heat of him seeping through the thin fabric of my dress and igniting a fire in my veins.
With the back of his index finger, he pushes a lock of hair off my face. “No more peach?”
I lift my chin, giving him more access. “Faded.”
“And what color is this?” He flips the lock of hair between his fingers like he’s savoring the texture.
“My natural color. My mother always called it dirty dishwater blonde.” What a pretty picture that painted. I’m glad my sisters got their father’s dark color, so they never had to hear all the creative ways our mother insulted me.
He hums under his breath, shuffling forward another half-step. “Nah, this is old-money blonde, Peach.”
Amusement flutters around my ribcage, flitting from one side to the other. “You know no one will understand why you call me that if I don’t have peach-colored hair.”
“Do you like it?” His voice is raspy as he ghosts his lips along my jaw. “When I call you Peach .”
I smirk, not ready to tell him about the excitement that flutters low in my belly every time he says it. “I don’t not like it.”
“Careful, baby, I might start thinking you like me,” he teases. “As for everyone else, fuck ’em.”
Beau Carter is charming as hell, and I’m just realizing now that might become a problem for me.
“You know, tonight was fun,” I muse. “More fun than I expected.”
He huffs a laugh against my neck. “C’mon, now, baby, don’t lie to us both.”
My humor fades as I rest my hand on his chest, tapping my index finger twice. “But that’s the thing, Beau. The night’s almost over. And this, it’ll never work between us.”
He shuffles into my space until his chest just brushes mine, his shoulders broad enough to block out most of the streetlights behind him. It should feel intimidating, but it doesn’t. It feels commanding in that hot, protective way, like he’s a barrier between me and the outside world.
But it also brings him close—too close. I want to do something reckless like bury my face in his neck and inhale that leather-and-woods scent of his.
“Never say never,” he murmurs, ghosting his lips along my jawline, the scruff of his beard brushing against my neck in the most delicious way.
“I’m saying never.” My voice is breathless, betraying my feelings like a traitor. I swallow and tell my body to get with the program. He’s not going to be our boyfriend after a couple of desserts and hand-holding. He’s our fucking competition.
Maybe. He’s maybe your competition. The results aren’t in yet a voice inside my head snips.
“Never is an awfully long time, Peach. You sure you wanna commit to that?”
His words hang in the air between us, a challenge and a promise all at once. I feel the heat of his body, the magnetic pull that seems to draw me closer despite my better judgment.
“Beau,” I whisper, half warning, half plea.
His hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. I can’t help but part my lips, my breath hitching in my throat. His eyes, those deep blue pools that seem to see right through me, flick down to my mouth.
“What am I going to do with you, Eloise?” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over my cheek.
I swallow hard, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I think the better question is: what am I going to do with you ?”
His lips curve into a smile, and then he’s leaning in, his mouth a whisper away from mine. “Anything. Everything .”
I rock onto my toes, whispering against his mouth, “Then kiss me, Beau.”
“With fucking pleasure,” he growls.
His hand slides up, fingers tangling in my hair, as he cups the back of my neck. The warmth of his touch seeps into my skin, igniting a slow burn that spreads through my veins. There’s a heartbeat of stillness, a breath suspended in time, before he lowers his head and captures my lips with his.
I sink my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and push onto my tiptoes for an even better angle. My other hand roams over his upper back and shoulder, mapping out his carved muscles.
The kiss is a revelation, a perfect storm of gentle and demanding. His mouth moves over mine with exquisite precision, coaxing and teasing, stoking the embers of desire into a raging inferno.
A low, desperate noise groans from the back of my throat, and if I wasn’t so deeply enmeshed in the kiss of a lifetime, I’d be embarrassed. But I don’t need to worry, not when the sound seems to spur Beau on, his hands sliding lower to my waist, anchoring me to him.
His free hand skims down my side, his touch electric even through my dress. When he reaches the hem, he toys with it, flipping the edge between his fingers.
I slide my hand over his bicep, feeling the firm swell of muscle beneath my fingertips. His skin is hot to the touch, like he’s burning up from the inside out. Slowly, I trail my fingers down the length of his arm, and when I reach his hand, still toying with the hem of my dress, I cover it with my own.
He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against mine as we share oxygen. In a moment of boldness, I guide his hand underneath the hem of my dress, just an inch.
My breath catches as he palms my leg, his thumb sliding over the sensitive skin on my inner thigh.
His fingers inch higher, bunching the fabric of my dress as they explore the sensitive skin. Each caress is both a question and a promise, igniting a need deep within me I’ve never experienced before.
Beau breaks the kiss, his breath ragged against my lips. His eyes, dark with desire, search mine. “Is this okay?”
I nod too quickly, my hand reaching out to bring his mouth back to mine once more. “Touch me.”
He nips the side of my neck, dragging the edge of his teeth over my tendon. “I am touching you.”
“You know what I mean.”
I feel petulant and turned on. It’s a fucking weird combination. I can’t possibly be held liable for what comes out of my mouth when I’m in such a state.
“Spell it out for me, baby. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you,” I breathe out.
"I'm right here," he says, his cock hard against my body as he presses into me.
My chest flushes with desire. “I need more.”
“Tell me what you need, Peach.” His voice is a calloused caress across my senses.
“I want you to kiss me. And I want your hands.” I’m breathless.
“These hands, baby?” he murmurs against my skin, his lips dragging the taunt across the slope of my neck. His palms skate up the sides of my thighs, one rotating inward so his thumb rests in that sensitive crease between my leg and my pelvis.
“Yes,” I groan, arching into him.
“Yes, what, baby? Use your words.” He presses slow, deliberate kisses along my collarbone.
Frustration gurgles inside of me like an angry volcano. I palm both of his cheeks and drag his handsome face back up to mine. I look at his eyes, tripping over the depth of blue and stumbling into something I don’t know how to identify.
My chest heaves, and I feel like there’s more lust in my veins than blood. But I’ve never felt more alive in my life.
I stare at him through half-lidded eyes and lift my leg, resting it against his hip. “I want you to stop edging me and make me come.”
A satisfied smile curls his lips as he palms my thigh, taking the weight. “Here?” He ghosts his fingers along the edge of my panties, teasing me with the barest hint of pressure. “Is this where you want me to touch you, Peach?”
I grasp his hand and guide it between my thighs until his fingertips brush against the lace of my panties. “No. Here .”
“Good girl.” A deep growl rumbles in his chest as his fingers slip beneath the delicate fabric, gliding through my slick folds. I gasp, my head falling back against the wall as he strokes me with maddening skill. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me already.”
His fingers dip lower, teasing my entrance before sliding back up to circle my clit with feather-light touches. Each caress is electric, sending jolts of pleasure racing through my body. I'm lost in sensation, the world narrowing down to nothing but his hands on me and the delicious tension coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
“That’s it, Peach,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. “Let me feel how much you like my fingers playing with your pussy.”
My lips part on a moan, and he swallows it with a kiss. His tongue swirls around as his fingers circle around my clit in maddeningly soft strokes. My hips rock against his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of everything he's giving me. I'm trembling, my thighs quaking as I teeter on the edge of oblivion.
Later, when I’ve come down and I’m not floating on a cloud of ecstasy, I might be embarrassed at how fast I’m about to come. But I’m too far gone to care.
“Please,” I whimper, the word escaping me in a desperate gasp. “I need . . .”
“I know what you need, baby.” His fingers slide lower, plunging deep inside me.
I cry out at the sudden fullness, my inner walls clenching around him. He pumps his fingers in and out, curling them to hit that spot that makes my legs start tingling.
“Come for me, Peach. Let me hear it.”
His words are my undoing. The coil inside me snaps and I’m flying, waves of ecstasy crashing over me again and again. I cry out, my voice hoarse, as he works me through the intense pleasure, drawing out every last inch of my orgasm.
It’s a minute, a week, a month before I’m back on Earth. I’m back to myself, slumped against his chest, leg wrapped around his waist, and his fingers slowly pumping inside of me still.
“There she is,” he murmurs, dragging his lips across the top of my hair.
I pull back as he slowly slips his fingers from my pussy, twisting them to just graze that sensitive spot once more. Little aftershocks flow through me like dancing sparks.
I watch, transfixed, as Beau lifts his fingers to his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine. With deliberate slowness, he parts his lips and slips his fingers inside, tasting me on his skin.
My breath catches in my throat as his tongue swirls around his digits, licking them clean with a sensual reverence that makes my thighs clench. There’s something unbearably erotic about the sight, about the knowledge that it’s my cum he’s savoring, like it’s a Michelin-star dessert.
A low hum of appreciation rumbles in his chest, the sound shooting straight to my core.
“Goddamn delicious. And I fuckin’ knew it.”
“Knew what?” Since when did my voice become so breathless?
He looks up at me, his blue eyes sparkling and his dimple popping out with a feral sort of grin. “You’re as sweet as a goddamn peach, Eloise.”