Chapter 14
Eleanor
Beck helps me into his boat and positions me between his legs with my back to his front. He wraps one arm around me, and places his other in the water, guiding us out of the harbor the same way he has on so many other occasions.
Only this time, everything feels better, easier, more significant as a thousand new possibilities blossom in my heart.
With my sailing nerves now the teensiest fraction of what they usually are, I relax into Beck’s safe hold, his touch sending all other kinds of sensations through me as we unhurriedly make our way back to Starry Hill.
With the way Beck’s been making me feel lately, I just want to strip him naked and have my way with him tonight.
But it’s much too soon for that, and exactly the reason I’ll be offering to sleep on the couch.
Beck is worth so much more than a single night of lust. He deserves all the good things in the world, and I really, really want to get everything right with him.
I want us to take our time, to really settle into our new dynamic, savor it all, before I allow my pussy to wrestle control from my brain.
Yet, I feel like Beck deserves a reward for rescuing me from my gloomy mood and taking me away to the place I feel the happiest in the world. Perhaps later, if we happen to be cuddling on the couch, my hands could drift south, or my mouth could, but only if he explicitly consents.
As the sun dips below the horizon behind us, Beck places his mouth right by ear, his lips skimming against the sensitive flesh as he asks, “Do you want to feel my magic?”
I turn back to look at him, wondering if it’s a euphemism for something sexy. “Your what?”
“My ocean magic. Here, give me your hand.” Beck laces our fingers and scoops me into his lap to give me better reach before lowering our joint hands into the water.
I’m still debating if I should protest sitting on top of him, always feeling a little self-conscious of my weight, but then a flurry of bubbles dance around my hand, and a preposterous giggle escapes me at the wonder of it all.
“This is amazing,” I exclaim, marveling at the sensation.
“Look at you enjoying the ocean,” Beck jokes, and presses a quick kiss to my neck.
I honestly don’t know if I should swoon or laugh, my body and brain still playing catch up with the curveball this evening has thrown at me. It’s like I’m in a dream and I don’t know what I did to deserve it.
One thing I do know is that I’m happy—full-heart, dancing-in-the-moonlight, quit-my-job-and-move-to-Starry-Hill-to-live-with-Beck-forever-and-ever levels of happy.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, my mother whispers her toxic words, Happiness doesn’t last forever, Eleanor.
You need security. A good job with a good salary.
The respect of your peers. All of that will lead to feelings of contentment that will sustain you much longer than the fleeting feeling of happiness.
I mentally bat her away and focus on the sensation of Beck’s hands intertwined with mine, his breath against my neck, and the comfort of his embrace, letting it all center me in the present.
I want to live for these moments, build a catalog of happy memories I can flit through when I’ve had a shitty day, and find joy in all the small things.
For too long I believed my mother, for too long I followed her advice, thinking her way is the only way to live, hoping one day to truly make her proud of me.
Now, I’m ready to shut the door on all these inaccurate beliefs, to follow my own definition of happiness, because this right here, this is it for me.
Turning my head, I slant my mouth against Beck’s and kiss him with all the gratefulness I feel for him.
I’m not sure if he fully understands what he’s done for me.
Not only does Beck make me feel seen, but he literally jumped to my rescue when he thought I needed him.
I want him to feel just as special, as appreciated, as valued, as he makes me feel.
When we come up for air again, our boat is drifting somewhere in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight.
For not even a second do I feel scared of being unmoored in the dark.
Quite the opposite, in fact, as Beck presses soft, open-mouthed kisses along every inch of exposed skin he can reach while the stars blink down at us.
“So you can control water too?” I ask, aiming for a normal conversation, despite my husky voice betraying how turned on I still am.
“Yeah,” Beck answers, lowering his hand back into the water to resume our journey.
“My magic is why I’ve got the mill. It supplies hydropower to all the shops in the main part of town.
That’s where all the creatures used to live a long time ago, but as the population expanded, creatures needed more space, and the cottages were built around the island.
We use generators for the homes because Arran doesn’t want Starry Hill to become some type of modern, overcrowded city filled with cables and wires and such. He’s not a fan of big changes.”
“He’s Starry Hill’s founder, right?” I ask, lazily tracing the scales on his arm that haven’t disappeared yet.
“Yes. He started building here about four hundred years ago, and has since given so many of us a place to call home when there weren’t a variety of good options available to us.” The pain in Beck’s voice slices through me and I squeeze his hand a little tighter.
“I’d like to meet him sometime. You sound like you care for him,” I say gently.
Beck’s smile is wistful as the familiar outline of Starry Hill comes into view.
“It’s a long story, but Arran offered me the position of island guardian when I was in a fairly dark place.
I owe him a lot. One day I’d like to tell you the whole story.
Right now, though, I want to focus on making you happy and helping you forget the terrible day you had. ”
Part of me wants to ask Beck to tell me everything now.
I want to understand his pain, and help him ease it.
But if he’s not ready, then I’m not going to push him.
I just hope someday in the not-too-distant future he’ll be comfortable enough to tell me all of it—why he disappeared when we were kids, how he ended up here, and why everything happened.
Pulling Beck’s arm more snuggly around me, I say, “This right here, with you, this is happiness to me. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
When we get to the mill, Beck takes out the dough that’s been proving and prepares a spinach-and-artichoke filling for them. I watch, completely fascinated, as he moves around the rustic kitchen with complete ease.
Beck separates the dough into equal parts, wraps them around the filling before shaping them into perfect balls, and then pops the lot into the oven, all like it’s no big deal.
He’s clearly unaware of how attractive it is to watch not only how comfortable he is in the kitchen, but also how good he is with his hands.
“I would say I’m sorry I didn’t prepare any bread for you this week, but that would be a lie,” I drawl, leaning back in my chair to properly appreciate the view of Beck bending down to pop the tins in the oven.
Looking at me over his shoulder, Beck asks, “Why’s that?”
“Because I think your bread is better. And I like watching you.” A month ago, I would never have thought to share my thoughts so brazenly, but seeing the joy Beck gets from my unfiltered honesty only spurs me on.
“You really like my bread?” Beck asks, stalking toward me with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I tilt my head back to meet his gaze, my mouth also quirking up. “Would I lie to you?”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Beck answers as he cups my face with my one hand, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek.
It gives me great satisfaction that he knows that I wouldn’t. Having his trust means so much to me.
Beck smiles down at me, his tone completely sincere as he says, “I can’t give you a list of everything I like about you, because I don’t think we’d have enough time. It’s practically endless.”
“Aren’t you the charmer?” I tease, leaning into his hand.
Beck tilts his head to the side. “Is that a good thing?”
I nod and place my hands on his hips, relishing how good it feels to touch him so freely. “For me, yes.”
“Then, I’ll try to charm you some more. But first, do you want to play some chess while we wait for dinner?” Beck asks, the offer of a familiar game a welcome suggestion to break all the sexual tension brewing between us.
“I’d love to. I might be a bit rusty, but I think I can still beat you.” Maybe a little friendly competition would help me think with my head and not my pussy. Surely chess can’t turn sexy.
“You can try,” Beck says, his tone holding a challenge as he heads over to the gaming cupboard. “Our last match didn’t end well for you.”
I cross my arms over my chess, pretending to sulk. “We were twelve. I dare say I’ve gotten better over the years.”
“So have I.” Beck gives me a cocky look as he sits down opposite me and starts arranging the pieces on the board.
My breath hitches at the confidence in his tone, sending a bolt of lust straight to my pussy. It feels like Beck’s implying he’s good at other things too. Judging by the way he’s kissed me, I’d wager to say that’s very true.
Feeling bold, I throw down my own challenge, “What should we make the winner’s reward?”
Beck shrugs. “Anything they want.”
I think on that for a second, then suggest, “How about the winner picks where they sleep tonight?”
Looking up, Beck pauses with the white queen in his hand, his brows drawn together. “What do you mean? Where else would you want to sleep?”
I reach forward and lay a comforting hand on Beck’s forearm, not wanting him to think I have plans to be anywhere else but here with him. “I mean, the winner can choose to sleep on the couch or the bed tonight.”
Eyes flitting between mine, I see a thousand thoughts pass through Beck’s head before he finally settles on a neutral response. “I guess that’s fair.”
Beck finishes up setting up the game for us and soon we’re lost in strategies, trying to predict the other’s next move, all while our legs remain intertwined under the table.
Beck lays a hand on my thigh, not in an overtly sexual way, but his soft caresses have me squirming in my seat. My mind strays from the game and to other fantasies about what those hands can do, my pussy getting wetter with each minute that passes.
Feeling like two can play at this game, I clear my throat and reach up to get the pins holding my slicked-back bun together. Beck’s mouth gapes open as he watches me undo my hair, and I may put on a little show of shaking it out, letting the long locks fall down my back.
“That’s unfair,” Beck almost pants, his hand tightening on my thigh as his eyes roam over me.
“What’s unfair?” I ask, playing innocent as I card my fingers through my hair, hoping they don’t snag on a knot and make me lose the sexy vibe I’m trying to exude.
Beck pauses mid move, scales fluttering all over his body. “You know how much I like your hair. I’m going to keep staring at it and then I can’t focus on the game.”
“That sounds like a terrible problem to have,” I joke with a fake pout.
Thankfully Beck picks up on my tone, because the next moment he lurches forward and wraps his hand around my hair, tilting my head back and stealing my breath with a voracious kiss.
There’s nothing tentative about this kiss, no teasing in the way Beck’s mouth dominates mine, only pure passion as the rest of the world fades away and I surrender to my best friend.
I gasp as Beck scoops me up with one arm and positions me on the table, chess pieces clattering to the floor, our game now blissfully forgotten.
Beck presses against me and my legs wrap around his waist as he kisses me like a creature who’s been starved for too long.
I meet every stroke of his tongue with one of mine, eagerly returning every bit of fervent emotion he’s pouring into me, telling Beck with my body that I feel it as much as he does.
Beck’s hands dip below my blouse and we part only long enough for him to strip it off me before our mouths meet again, devouring each other with even more urgency.
My hands move hurriedly to the buttons of his shirt, my fingers fumbling to undo them as Beck presses wet kisses along my jaw and down my neck.
My pussy is soaked, and I’m on the verge of undoing his pants, ready to beg him for his cock—or cocks—right here in the kitchen, but then Beck pauses to sniff the air and groans, his forehead flopping against my shoulder.
For a split second I feel self-conscious enough that maybe he’s scenting me, but I quickly shove those intrusive thoughts far away, because surely he’d be happy to know how much he’s turning me on and won’t be disgusted by how I smell. Or maybe—
Riiiiing.
The oven timer goes off and Beck lets out another forlorn groan as his arms tighten around my waist. “That’s really unfortunate timing.”
“You knew it was going to go off?” I ask, still breathless where I sit in only my flimsy camisole, trailing my fingers through Beck’s silky strands.
Beck nods against my shoulder. “I could smell the bread is done, so I knew it was going to go off soon.”
“Oh.” Am I disappointed that we had to stop right when things were getting good? If I’m being honest with myself, yes. But maybe it’s for a good reason. We’re meant to take things slow, and whatever was happening here just now, was anything but slow.
It was hot. To the nth degree hot.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt… this,” Beck says, finally making eye contact with me, my heart melting at the true disappointment in his blue gaze. “I need to take the loaves out of the oven or else they’ll burn and no one will get bread tomorrow, and I won’t have dinner for you either.”
“For us,” I correct, stroking a lock of fallen hair off Beck’s forehead.
“Us,” Beck repeats softly, placing the lightest of kisses against my lips before settling me back on my chair and heading over to the oven to take out the freshly baked spinach-artichoke stuffed rolls.
I knew I was attracted to Beck, knew I liked him for his sweet heart and quirky personality, but seeing this new side of him is going to take me a minute to process. And a lot of self-control to withstand tonight, or however long until the time is right.
No matter what, I have to end up on the couch tonight or we’ll just be repeating all of this again, or more.