24. Luna
CHAPTER 24
Luna
My voice caught in my throat as Alice came over with a tattered pink blanket and a stuffed bunny who had seen better days. They were clearly both well-loved and cherished by the little girl. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Alice squealed and plopped down next to me. “Those will make you feel better.”
And because my hands were violently red and scraped, Alice set the blanket in my lap and settled the stuffy right next to me, cuddling by my side.
Beck’s top teeth dug into his full bottom lip, his face the epitome of concentration as he used the warm, soapy towel to pat my hands clean. “You still never told me why you were outside to begin with.”
I swallowed hard. “If you have to know, I was calling a therapist.”
Beck sank back on his heels, the man kneeling before me, his muscular arms covered in tattoos, a shock of hair sweeping across his brow, his eyes determined and steely as ever. Fuck, if having this man on his knees in front of me didn’t leave me wanting to pick back up where we left things the other day.
I felt the full weight of his attention. “You called a therapist?”
I cleared my throat, tossing my gaze in Alice’s direction.
Beck caught my drift. “Alice, can you please find Luna a pillow from upstairs? Maybe one of the extra throw pillows you have on your playroom couch.”
“Good idea!” She ran out of the room, eager to complete her mission.
Beck waited patiently for me to explain.
“After the other night, I figured it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to talk to someone.”
He nodded. “That’s brave of you.”
I smirked. “Turns out, wanting to have sex with a DILF without flinching is a good motivator.”
Beck coughed uncontrollably.
Little footsteps announced Alice’s return, and she immediately went over and started patting her dad’s back. “Are you okay, Daddy?”
I, on the other hand, tilted my head into my chest to smother my smile. Beck deserved to know that I wanted to bang him again and the way he’d treated me with kid gloves made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t come near me with a ten-foot pole unless I addressed some of these underlying issues.
Hence going out to make a phone call. Pacing my brownstone hadn’t given me the mental fortitude to actually press the call button to the therapist Faith recommended. I’d briefly seen a therapist after the assault and didn’t keep up with it.
I was ready to pick up where I left off.
Beck finally stopped his coughing, his gaze on me lingering and his eyes darting to his daughter. No doubt he was thinking of ways to get me alone so that we could talk more.
Alice frowned. “Daddy, are you going to finish cleaning up Luna’s hands?”
Sure enough, my palms were still upturned. While the skin was clean and clear of any obvious dirt, he’d yet to do anything else.
A groove formed between his brows. “Right.”
The man grabbed the black bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “This might sting.” He proceeded to pour a small amount over the open wounds.
I sucked in a quick breath as he lightly blew on the aggravated skin. Not only was he kneeling in front of me now, but he was also taking such good care of me. His scent was heady.
And I wanted him so bad, but the timing wasn’t right. Not yet .
I stood, the pink blanket sliding off my legs. “I can take it from here.”
“I haven’t even put the Bluey Band-Aids on yet.” He stood, hands reaching out to grasp me before he thought better of it and slid them into his pockets instead.
I went around him. “My hands are clean. I’ll bandage them at home with some gauze.”
Alice frowned too, but trailed behind me, nonetheless. “Take the Band-Aid box, at least.”
I reached out to take the small box between my fingertips, avoiding the concrete burn at all costs.
“Luna—”
“Beck.”
The man opened the front door, when I could tell by the tense muscles in his arm that he wanted to keep me hostage at his house.
My gaze pierced his. “I’ll call you, I promise.”
“You better,” he grumbled. “I know where you live.”
Wasn’t that the damn truth?
* * *
The next morning I awoke with a start to the sound of a chainsaw.
At least I thought that’s what the buzzing noise was.
The high-pitched screech that could wake the dead roused me from my bed. “What the hell? Is that a chainsaw?”
I trotted downstairs, wrapping my silk robe around my waist, careful not to accidentally hurt my hands which were wrapped up. They hurt if I applied any pressure to them, so I tried not to.
The noise seemed to be coming from the back yard, so I unlocked my French doors and found the source of all the kerfuffle.
Beck Bennet.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I shouted, hand above my brow to keep the morning sun out of my eyes.
There stood a shirtless Beck with a chainsaw—totally called it—and some protective goggles which made him look ridiculously handsome. While that was a sight to see, it almost distracted me enough from the gaping hole in the fence.
Almost .
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
Beck lifted the goggles, pushing back his hair which was starting to grow out. It was only noticeable because the man liked his military cut. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m making a gate.”
He slid the goggles back into place and turned the chainsaw back on.
I tightened my belt, and turned on my heel, charging back into the house like a bull.
I searched my drawers, looking for anything that might resemble a tool or something I could use to stop him.
Coming up short, I planted my hands on my hips, scanning the kitchen. A large pot hung in the rack above the stove and an idea struck. “Gotcha.”
Once I filled it with water, I stormed back outside, startling Beck who was busy erecting some sort of frame around the exposed ends of the shared fence.
He lifted his hands and backed up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I tossed the pot of freezing cold water all over him, drenching his skintight, dark-washed jeans. Now they were even tighter around his thick thighs and my throat was suddenly parched as I took in a wet Beck.
Where was my vibrator? I’d need to give it a workout later.
“Jesus, woman,” he swore, water dripping down the planes of his chest.
I wagged my finger at him, approaching slowly. “You do not get to put a gate between our houses without asking me, Beck Bennet.”
My finger stabbed his chest, and the smell of his sweat had me closing my eyes for just a second. I had to collect myself. “Put the fence back up.”
He tilted his head down. “No.”
I gasped. “No?”
“No.”
“I’m sure this is illegal.” I gestured wildly.
Beck lifted my chin with his finger, his touch simultaneously gentle and searing. “This will allow me to help you if you fall again.”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. “That was one time.”
“One time too many,” he countered, wiping his chest and once again drawing attention to the muscles there. The sunlight connected with the water droplets to highlight the definition even more. It was practically blinding.
“Put. It. Back.” I stabbed him in staccato. “And put on a shirt.”
He leaned in, his lips just a hair’s breadth away from mine. “Make me.”
I stomped around him, lifting the chunk of wood he’d removed. He’d cleared out a whole section of the fence, which meant the pieces were still bound together by two cross beams and damn they were heavy. The thing is I could lift it, but I couldn’t do anything more than that, and my hands were screaming at me to drop it.
“Fuck,” I muttered, setting the piece down to examine my palms. Sure enough, that white gauze was now stained pink with blood.
“Are you bleeding?” Beck asked with the patience of a man with a small daughter who undoubtedly went against his wishes on a regular basis.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”
Beck slicked back his hair with his forearm. “Do you need me to fix you up again?”
I shoved my fisted hands to my sides. “I can fix myself, Beck Bennet. And I’m calling the cops.” I pushed past him and back toward my side of the fence.
He smirked. “No, you won’t.”
He had me there.
“Well, I’m calling Sebastian,” I called over my shoulder just before I slammed the back door shut.
* * *
I rushed into work, late, again, all thanks to Beck fucking Bennet.
The audacity.
I tripped and fell, and sure, I was a little stunned at first, but that didn’t give him the right to jump over my fence like I’m some damsel in distress nor does it give him the permission to make a literal door between our backyards.
Easy access.
Okay, my lady bits were all riled up at the idea of him slinking over into my house in the middle of the night for evening acrobatics.
If only my head could also get on board.
Luckily, I did manage to make the appointment with a therapist.
Still, he had absolutely no right to do that. I’d have to get him back somehow.
Setting my revenge-plotting aside, I sat down to answer emails in my favorite booth at Club Deux.
There was nothing I loved more than spending time at the dance club during the day. With the house lights up, it felt like a different place entirely. Almost like the club had a secret identity.
After a call with Parvati to check in on the Chateau, a notification popped up in the bottom right-hand corner of my screen.
I double clicked the incoming email to find the invitation to the Sexual Assault Survivors Network Gala—the same event that I met Carter at.
Then another email popped up, a forwarded message from… “Speak of the devil.”
I opened this new email to find a message from my ex:
I hope to see you there. - Carter
“I’ve been going to this event for years, but yes, you pretend like this is your event and I’m just invited.” I shut my laptop and stood in search of a coffee or sparkling water, not wanting to examine why the simple, innocuous email elicited such a strong reaction.
“We aren't open yet,” Chloe, one of my bartenders, called out.
I looked up to find a man walking into my space.
Beck .
Beck was here and Carter dissolved from my thoughts. “What are you doing here?”
He showed off a distinctive pink cardboard box. “Alice wanted me to drop off some donuts. She said it would make you happy with me.”
“Wait—” I thought back to the little scene from this morning. “Was Alice at the house?”
“Yup. Witnessed everything from the bay window in her room. Luckily she wasn't privy to all the pretty expletives you used, but she is old enough to understand body language.”
“Oh, shit,” I mumbled as I sank back into my seat. Some things were meant to not be witnessed—or overheard—by children. I’d have to be more mindful of little ears.
A bemused Beck slid into the booth next to me, and I took a second to admire the view.
He'd showered and changed. And smelled like heaven.
My breath hitched, and I spoke to cover it up. “Couldn't you pay a delivery driver to drop this off?”
He shrugged, slinging his arm over the bench behind me. If I leaned back, we’d be touching.
“You said you were getting a therapist, and you called me a DILF and then proceeded to walk out of my house. Of course I came to find you.”
My head whipped around the room, trying to make sure nobody would overhear us. I could be vocal about my wants and needs without having them broadcasted to my entire team.
Then I twisted in my seat to face him, face softening. This man tracked me down because he cared. That felt big. “I had fun the other night until I didn’t. I want to do it again some time, preferably with a more satisfying ending.”
Beck hissed. “Fuck, hearing you say it aloud makes it real.”
I swallowed, and with the willpower of a saint, I scooted back, Beck’s outstretched hand sweeping the back of my neck.
Beck frowned, but didn’t stop me. Then, he said, “I want to take you on a date.”
I blinked. “And here I thought you just wanted to fuck me.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely want to fuck you but that’s not going to happen. Not for a while if the other night was any indication, and I’m fine with that. Let me be clear about something, I don’t just want to fuck you.”
Something like hope blossomed in my chest.
He leaned in. “I want to get to know you. All of you.”
I crossed my arms, figuring I’d make him work for it. “Where, pray tell, do you plan to take me on this hypothetical date?”
He lifted a finger. “One, this isn’t hypothetical. I will be taking you on a date.”
“So presumptuous.” I kind of loved it.
“Two,” he said, ignoring my quip, “you leave the planning up to me. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six. Dress casually.”
“Tomorrow is Friday. I have work.”
“Take it off.”
My eyebrow rose.
“Not like that ,” he huffed.
“I need to work that night; we have a couple of VIPs that will need schmoozing. I am, however, available for a lunch date.” I wanted the date, but I wouldn’t compromise my work for it. Not a whim at least.
Beck pulled out his phone. I glanced at the screen, watching him scroll through his calendar. Then he called someone and asked them to move around some meetings. I sat there, watching the whole thing take place in a matter of minutes. “Done. Lunch it is. I’ll pick you up from your place at noon.”
My heart beat faster, and I hefted a shoulder. “I’ll be there.”
Then Beck leaned in. The smell of his aftershave had me squeezing my thighs together.
“See you tomorrow.” He kissed the sensitive column of my neck before departing, leaving me alone in the middle of my club feeling hot and bothered.