Chapter 32
MAE
Closed, finally.
If I’d ever second-guessed my decision not to take over the bar, co-managing it with Beck would have pushed me over the edge.
I didn’t mind hard work, or the customers (most of the time) but late nights would be the death of me.
Unlike Beck, I wasn’t a night owl most days.
Unless the girls and I were out, of course. Or when I needed to be.
“How do you do it, night after night?” I asked, wiping the last streak of glass cleaner off the front door and tossing the rag onto the back counter.
Beck was behind the bar rinsing out the blender, his sleeves rolled up. He glanced at me with a grin, the kind that said this was his happy place… music low, lights dimmed, the air thick with the comfort of familiarity and spilled whiskey.
“I’d be happy to discuss that with you,” he said as I approached, sitting on a bar stool. “But we have other, more pressing things, to talk about.”
He reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle of my favorite prosecco.
“Where did you get that?”
“The liquor store,” he said, dry as could be.
I watched him expertly pour two glasses, his forearms flexing.
Why were forearms such a thing? Beck’s, especially.
Seeing my expression, he winked. “Grabbed it for just this occasion. Although it occurred to me, after living in France, champagne might be more your thing these days.”
He handed me a glass.
“In fact, I still like prosecco more. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?”
“That sometimes, what we like most isn’t always what we’re supposed to.” I emphasized the word “supposed.”
“You’re not kidding, there.” He raised his glass. “To the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.”
A shiver ran through me. “The bar, you mean?”
“That too.”
I paused, trying not to make too much of it. But this really did feel like we were crossing some sort of invisible line. Not that we hadn’t already last night. Or over the weekend, for that matter.
“Cheers,” I said, taking a sip. Over the rim of the prosecco glass, I watched Beck who, in turn, hadn’t taken his eyes from me. “I’m grateful for what you did for my parents, Beck. They’re over the moon.”
He leaned against the back bar. The sight of him, ruggedly handsome, sleeves up, hair tousled, drinking prosecco, made me smile.
“What?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink prosecco before.”
“Not true,” he said. “We’ve been to more than one wedding together.”
“Fair point. But that’s different.”
“How?”
“Because you’re in a suit then.”
“I see.” He took another sip. “And it wasn’t just for your parents. I pretty much lived here anyway. It was just a matter of committing to being the owner. It’s not a responsibility I take lightly, O’Malley’s legacy.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Is there anything you’d like to talk about? Maybe we can avoid the topic a little more.”
Chuckling, I tried to think of a way to do just that. “I never did tell you about the girls’ night.”
He shook his head slowly. “You’re getting warmer but are not quite there.”
“Thayle’s pregnant,” I blurted.
“Warmer.”
“How is that warmer?”
His brows raised. “How did Thayle get pregnant?”
He was such a nut. “By having sex?” I ventured.
“Bingo.”
I wasn’t going to make this easy on him.
“What does that have to do with us? We haven’t had sex.”
“Keep it up, O’Malley, and I’ll show you what that has to do with us rather than having a discussion about it.”
My heart raced as I considered the next words that should come out of my mouth. Having sex with Beck, despite it being a recurring daydream these days, would unequivocally change everything. As much as I wanted it…
“Fine. Let’s talk about it.”
His smile was downright devious. “Enjoy yourself last night?”
“You know I did. Because you made me say it,” I accused.
“Type it, technically, not to split hairs.”
“Well, that was a good talk. So about—”
Letting out a little scream as Beck set down his glass and strode purposefully toward me, I did the same, placing it safely on the bar just in time. He grabbed my knee, pulled it open while simultaneously spinning me toward him.
A second later, Beck was between my legs, grabbing my face. It was the single hottest thing any man had ever done. But instead of kissing me, he stood there, looking into my eyes.
“Tell me you don’t want to repeat Saturday night. That you want to keep following the rules. Because if you don’t, Mae, I’m going to kiss you again.”
My shoulders rose and fell, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I couldn’t tell him that. Not without branding myself a boldfaced liar.
This time, it wasn’t as gentle. Our lips slammed together, Beck’s hands inching from my face to the back of my head.
Like the first, our mouths melded together as if they’d been made for each other.
A flash of last night’s antics ran through my mind as my body felt as if it had turned to jelly.
His shoulders flexed beneath my fingers, Beck hard and unyielding.
Not that I wanted him to.
He was so good at kissing. Too good.
I forced the thought from my mind.
I could kiss him all night. But Beck seemed to have other plans.
He pulled back, but not for long. His lips trailed a path from mine down my cheek to my neck.
I lifted it, to give him better access, but the neck of my t-shirt didn’t allow for much.
Which was probably why Beck grabbed it with both hands, where the shirt was tucked into my jeans, looked at me with hooded eyes for a split second, and then yanked it up and off me in one smooth motion.
“Oh, God,” he said, looking at me. “I’ve seen you this way before, but never just before I was about to rip off your bra. Dear lord, you are sexy.”
His words. His tone. The way he stared at me. All of it together was a heady combination. I didn’t utter a word in protest.
Resuming where he’d left off, I waited for Beck to reach behind my back and unclasp my bra. Instead, he kissed all the way from my collarbone to the top of both breasts. Still, he didn’t attempt to uncover them.
When his mouth hovered over me, his breath on my nipple followed by a flick of his tongue through the lace, I clenched in anticipation. He did the same to both breasts, and I nearly reached back to undo the damn clasp myself.
Finally, his hands splayed across my waist on each side as he kissed a trail back upward. Arching into him, I let my head fall back.
“Mmm.”
“Like this?” he asked, his tongue flicking against my skin.
“Mmhmm.”
“Are you picturing my tongue on your bare nipple, Mae?”
How had he guessed?
I lifted my head to find him staring at me with the faintest hint of a smile.
His hands moved upward, Beck’s thumbs sliding across my lace bra, stopping as he circled both nipples.
“I cannot fucking wait to get these in my mouth,” he said, as both peaked under his ministrations.
Swallowing, the question at the tip of my tongue, I waited.
Nothing could have surprised me more when Beck suddenly reached down, grabbed my t-shirt, and put it back on. It wasn’t until Beck smoothed my hair that had got tousled in the process that I said anything.
“Why… did you stop?”
“Good question.” Leaning forward, he kissed me, softly, for what felt like the last time tonight.
“I stopped because I’ve been imagining seeing you naked, cherishing your body, for most of my adult life. This”—he waved his hand around the bar—“isn’t how I pictured it. Besides, we could have an audience.”
I thought of that. The front windows of the bar were covered in lettering, but it wouldn’t be difficult for anyone walking by to peer in. Not that anyone was likely to at this time of night, and if they did, they probably wouldn’t see much in the dark.
“But the other reason,” he said, “is that I don’t want to rush anything. I want to prove I can be patient for you, Mae.”
Well damn, that was inconvenient.
Thoughtful. But inconvenient. Because I wanted nothing more than for Beck to tear my bra off, and my jeans too, and show me if he was as skilled a lover as he claimed.
Not that I really needed proof. Not after that kiss.
“And that’s why I’m going to walk you home, now. Before I change my mind.”