50. Eloise
50
ELOISE
I wake slowly, lazily, awareness seeping into my consciousness like honey dripping from a spoon. The first thing I register is warmth—an all-encompassing, bone-deep warmth that seems to radiate from every cell in my body. It’s like being cocooned in the softest, coziest blanket imaginable, and for a moment, I’m content simply to bask in the sensation.
But it’s more than just the soft hotel sheets and fluffy duvet enveloping my body. It’s him.
Beau.
His strong arms are wrapped around me, holding me close against his broad chest. My cheek rests on his chest, rising and falling with each deep, even breath he takes.
I’ve never been more content in my entire life. His embrace is like coming home, his solid warmth and steady presence filling the cracks and crevices of my soul that I didn’t even know existed until I met him.
I burrow deeper into him, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck and breathing him in—that intoxicating scent of leather, spice, and something uniquely him.
He stirs, his arms tightening reflexively around me as he presses a sleepy kiss on the top of my head. “Mornin’, Peach.”
I drop a kiss to the side of his neck, smiling against his warm skin. “Good morning,” I murmur, my voice still rough with sleep.
Beau’s fingers trail up and down my bare back in a featherlight caress that sends pleasant shivers down my spine. “Sleep okay?”
“Mm, better than okay.” I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes are soft, still hazy with sleep, but there’s a warmth in their depths that makes my heart skip a beat. “You?”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a lazy half-smile that does funny things to my insides.
“Best sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he rumbles, his voice like honey over gravel. His fingers skim up my side, tracing the dip of my waist before settling on my hip. “Waking up next to you is even better.”
My heart flutters at his words, at the open affection in his gaze. I reach up, brushing a lock of tousled blond hair off his forehead. “I could get used to this,” I admit softly, a hint of vulnerability creeping into my voice.
“I was thinking . . .” he trails off, tracing a pattern along the sensitive skin on the back of my arm.
I shiver in delight, goosebumps trailing in his wake. “Hm, about what?”
“You should move in with me.”
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Surely I must have misheard him, the words distorted by the haze of sleep still clinging to my mind. But as I blink up at him, Beau’s expression is open and earnest, his blue eyes clear and steady on mine.
“What?” I breathe, my heart doing a funny little flip in my chest.
Beau’s fingers still their hypnotic dance along my skin as he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at me. The sheets pool around his waist, the morning light filtering in through the gauzy curtains. “Move in with me, Peach.”
A startled laugh bubbles out of my mouth, and I shake my head. “I can’t move in with you.”
He palms one of my cheeks, smoothing back my wild hair. “Why not? Wouldn’t it be nice to do this all the time? To go to sleep together, to wake up together?”
I give myself permission to dream for three seconds. For three breaths, I imagine a life where I woke up to this every single day. I think it might be an actual paradise. “Yeah,” I say with a sigh. Reality crashes down around me with the grace of a Mack truck. “In a different life.”
His gaze bounces between my eyes, his brow furrowing the longer he looks. “Why not this life, Peach?”
“I’ve got my sisters, Beau. I can’t just leave them. Vivie’s only thirteen.”
His thumb brushes over my cheekbone, his touch tender yet insistent. “I know that, baby. It was an invitation for all three of you. There’s plenty of room at my place.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The offer is tempting, so tempting. To wake up like this every morning, safe and cherished in Beau’s arms. To have a real home for my sisters, a stable place where they can thrive.
But the rational part of my brain kicks in, dousing the flicker of hope with cold, hard logic. I’ve only known Beau for a short time. As intense and real as our connection feels, it’s still new. Too new to upend my entire life over, no matter how much my heart yearns to say yes.
I take a shaky breath, placing my hand over his on my cheek. “Beau, I . . . I’m touched, truly. But don’t you think it’s a little too soon? I’ve never even been to your house.”
He hums under his breath, his blue eyes fixed on me with fierce possession.
“You know, I’ve read about this before. Where someone blurts something out because they’re riding the most epic orgasm high of their life,” I muse, letting the idea dangle in front of him. Giving him an out.
“Are you asking me if I’m tripping on your pussy, baby?” His lips wobble in their effort to suppress a grin, his dimples flashing.
My brows furrow, the back of my neck hot. “Well, not when you put it like that.”
“Hell yeah, I am. And I want to keep trippin’ on this perfect cunt of yours,” he says, ghosting his palm over my pussy.
God, how can I want him again? It’s strange to be so hungry for this man. So goddamn thirsty.
He leans over, dragging his lips down my shoulder. “Think about it, Peach. You wouldn’t have to deal with Seven Pines or Darla or anything you didn’t want to.”
My blood turns to ice at the mention of my mother. I was wondering how long it was going to take before he brought it up. And to be honest, I’m surprised it took him this long.
“So that’s what that was about? You feel, what, sorry for me or something?” The words come out quiet but short and quick.
Beau’s eyes widen, his grip on my hip tightening. “What? No, Peach, that’s not it at all.”
I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest as a sudden chill sweeps over my skin. “Then what is it? Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds an awful lot like pity.”
His brows draw together, a flicker of hurt passing through his eyes. “You think I’d ask you to move in with me out of pity?” He shakes his head, jaw clenched. “I’m asking because I care about you. I want to help you. And your situation with Darla looked . . . intense.”
“I never asked you for that,” I mutter, scooting to the end of the bed.
“Hey, don’t do that,” he murmurs, his hand snagging mine. I glance over my shoulder, catching something soft in his eyes—concern mixed with a kind of quiet determination. “Don’t shut me out, yeah?”
“I’m not,” I whisper. The words taste like ash on my tongue. I squeeze his hand and let go, sliding off the bed and looking for my clothes. “I have everything with Darla handled.”
“Alright.” He scoots to the end of the bed, pushing to his feet. He reaches for me, his powerful hands gently grasping my shoulders and turning me to face him. I keep my gaze fixed on his chest, not quite able to meet his eyes as a tangle of emotions wars within me.
“Eloise.” His voice is soft but firm, a quiet command that I can’t ignore. Slowly, reluctantly, I drag my gaze up to meet his.
His blue eyes are filled with a tender concern that makes my heart ache. There’s no pity there, no judgment. Just a steady, unwavering care that seems to wrap around me. “Alright, okay? It’s an open offer. So humor me and say you’ll think about it.”
I exhale slowly, some of the tension draining from my body under the warmth of his gaze. Beau’s thumbs rub soothing circles on my shoulders, the touch grounding me even as my mind spins.
“Okay,” I murmur, giving a small nod. “I’ll think about it.”
And I will. But not in the way he thinks. It’ll be something that keeps me up at night, thinking about all the ways my life might be different.
A slow smile spreads across Beau’s face, his dimples winking at me. Without warning, he bends down, bands his arms behind my thighs, and launches me onto the bed with a playful grunt.
A startled yelp escapes my lips as I bounce on the mattress, my hair fanning out around me in a wild tangle. Beau follows me down, his large frame covering mine as he settles between my parted thighs. The solid weight of him pressing me into the soft bedding sends a thrill racing down my spine, desire already sparking to life low in my belly.
“Beau!” I laugh breathlessly, the sound turning into a soft moan as he nuzzles into the crook of my neck, his stubble rasping deliciously against my sensitive skin. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Challenge accepted, Peach,” he murmurs against the column of my throat.