Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
SKYLA
I wanted to come home. I didn’t want to stay in LA for the night. All I longed for was to return to Montana with Beckett and Riley and be where I knew I was comfortable and safe.
So we all got on the plane and came to Montana.
Mik’s at my house in town. Connor and my parents are at his new house, which I haven’t seen yet, but I’m determined to visit as soon as possible.
And Beck and I just walked into the farmhouse.
When I turn to him, I can see the fatigue around his eyes and immediately feel regret. He didn’t sleep on the plane, but he held me so I could doze in and out.
“We should have stayed in LA,” I murmur. “It’s sorry I am that I kept everyone up into the night.”
“No, don’t be sorry. The others are probably in bed by now.” He pulls me to him and kisses the top of my head. He wraps those strong arms around me and holds me in a hug that I’ve become addicted to. “I kind of love that you wanted to come home.”
I grin against his chest, then I’m suddenly in his arms, being carried up the stairs, with Riley running ahead of us, already anticipating where to go. Beckett flips off the lights as we move through the house, and then we’re in the bedroom with the soft glow of a bedside lamp.
“Did you leave that on before we left town?” I ask.
“No, Billie stopped over and turned on the lights when I told her that we’d be coming home tonight.”
I frown up at him after he sets me on the bed. “But that was late.”
“She’s my sister.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal as he peels out of the T-shirt and jeans he wore on the flight.
I stayed in the leggings and his button-down that I pulled on after the shower in the hotel.
“And my girl doesn’t like the dark, so you won’t come home to a dark house. Ever.”
My eyes fill with tears. I can’t help it. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, but I think it’s the pure love this man shows me so effortlessly. It’s as if it’s his only mission in life.
Once he’s fully naked, he tugs me up to my feet and removes my clothes as well, then we climb into bed and snuggle together. Beck’s on his back, and my front is against his side, with one leg over his and my arm around his chest.
And for the first time since I felt that arsehole’s hand on me, I take a long, deep breath.
“I take it back,” I whisper against his skin into the darkness that doesn’t seem to bother me when I’m in his arms. “I’m not sorry. This is what I needed. Right here with you, in this bed.”
I feel his lips in my hair, and then he tips my chin up so he can cover my mouth with his. With that simple caress of his lips and tongue, heat moves through me in slow, delicious waves.
“I’m suddenly not so tired anymore,” I whisper against his mouth, and he grins as I move over him, resting on his chest because I can’t move my mouth away from his. I’m lost in the way his mouth feels against mine.
“Jesus, I feel like I haven’t had my hands on you in forever. Not like this.”
“Less than a day,” I murmur as I nibble the corner of his mouth, loving the way his whiskers feel against my skin.
“Too goddamn long.” His fingertips skim up and down my back, and my skin erupts with goose pimples.
I want to be the one in control for a little while. I think I need it after what happened earlier. So I kiss my way down to his chest, then his hard, rippled stomach, and glory in the feel of his smooth skin. He’s so… big. Everywhere.
“Your body is bloody brilliant, Beck.”
His chuckle turns into a moan when I drag my tongue between the hard lines of muscle, then kiss my way over to the V in his hip.
“This right here should be illegal. Or come with a warning label at the very least.”
“Irish, I’m about to flip you over?—”
“Let me.” I lift my head and stare up at him, and I know my eyes plead with him to let me be the one to lead for a little while. “Please, a ghrá .”
His thumb drifts over my bottom lip, but he doesn’t stop me, so I continue my exploration and slip my hand over his already hard cock, from tip to base.
He lifts and thrusts into my hand with a growl so feral it makes me grin just before I wrap my lips around the crown, tasting the essence of him already there.
“Fucking Christ, Irish,” he grits out, fisting the bedsheets. His forearms flex, his veins pop, and Holy Mary, it makes my core flood with desire.
I briefly wish I hadn’t had him braid my hair so he could fist his hands there.
I’m kneeling between his legs, and all I want to do is take him deep into my throat and make him go bloody crazy.
“Your pretty little mouth looks so fucking good on my cock.”
He’s breathing hard, moving under me, and I’ve never felt more powerful. I take him deep, past the back of my throat as far as I can until tears form in my eyes, and I’m certain I’m going to choke until I pass out.
But I don’t.
I ease up, catch my breath, then do it again.
“Fuuuuck,” he growls. “You’ve got three more seconds, baby, before I lose control and take you.”
Satisfied, I pull up, firm my lips around him, and sink back down again, but this time, I keep it shallow and lick over the crown, humming.
“That’s it.”
Beckett sits up and rolls us over so I’m on my back, and he kisses me hard and deep as if his life depends on it. His big hand drifts down my torso, then his fingers are in my already wet pussy, and I cry out against his lips.
“You’re so fucking wet for me. Does sucking my cock make you wet, baby?” He kisses down my jawline to my ear as I nod. “You’re gorgeous. Every inch of you. And you’re mine. You hear that, Irish?”
I nod again because I’m pretty sure all of my words have left the building, but he bites my earlobe.
“Tell me.”
“Yours.” My voice is breathy, a little choppy. “I’m yours, a ghrá .”
“That’s right.” He nudges his way between my legs, and then he’s there . I lift my hips in invitation. “Fuck, you’re warm.”
He slips inside, filling me, making us both moan.
“And tight. So goddamn tight. Am I hurting you, baby?”
“Never.” Cupping his cheek, I scratch my fingers in his soft whiskers. “You’d never hurt me. God, it’s so bloody good, a ghrá .”
He smiles before he kisses me and moves his hips in a circle. I’m pretty sure my soul just left my body.
He pulls my nipple into his mouth and licks the hard nub before moving to the other side to give it the same attention. My body is on fire for this man.
“I need to get closer,” he mutters against my neck. “I can never get close enough.”
“Pull my leg up,” I whisper. He does, but only hooks it around his elbow, which opens me way wider. He’s able to go deeper, but that’s not what I meant. “More.”
He frowns down at me, and it makes me grin.
“Push my knee into my shoulder, Beck.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to sit up.”
“You don’t have to.”
I love that he doesn’t want to hurt me, but I’m a ballerina.
So I show him. I pull my leg up myself, and his eyes go wide.
“Push inside me now, a ghrá .”
He does, and now he’s bottomed out, and he groans before covering my mouth with his.
“Jesus Christ, you’re flexible.”
“Perk of the job.”
He snickers, then he’s moving once more, and neither of us is laughing.
“Fuck, Irish, I need you to get there.”
“I’m there.” I feel the contractions start. The heat rolls through me, and it feels like my body explodes into a million pieces, with Beckett there to collect every single one and put me back together again. Is that roar the sound of my blood in my ears, or Beck falling over with me? I think it’s the latter, and the next thing I know, he’s reversed our positions again, and I’m lying on top of him. He’s still inside me and hugging me as if his life depends on it.
“I love you,” he says as he brushes loose hair off my cheeks and cups my face. “God, I fucking love you. I want you to sleep, baby.”
“I love you, too.”
* * *
“You’ve lost your bloody mind.”
I’m lying flat on my back, knees bent, struggling to breathe while staring at the ceiling of my studio.
“You’re being lazy.” Mik stands over me, scowling.
“I am not lazy, Mikhail.” Bloody hell, why can’t I breathe? “You’re a tyrant.”
“Again.”
“No, I’m going to lie here until I die.”
“ Again , malishka. Up.”
He snatches my hand off my belly and pulls me up to my aching feet. I want to cry out, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.
I have nails coming off again, blisters on my blisters, and this is my third pair of toe shoes this week.
And we’ve only been practicing for nine days.
“It never used to be this hard.” I hang my head and wish for a nap. “Or hurt this bad.”
“Yes, it was, and it did,” he says, but he doesn’t soften his voice. Mik’s always been a pain in the arse. “But you’ve been away so long, you’ve forgotten.”
“I’d like to keep forgetting.”
He shakes his head and gestures for me to return to the middle of the floor so we can start from the top of the scene.
Of course, the king wants to see the most emotional, most difficult scene of the entire show for his inauguration. It’s ten minutes of torture.
“I need a break,” I tell him.
“No. You need to keep going.”
“Jesus, babe, give her a break.”
I let the smile come as Mik’s head whips around to the door where Benji’s standing. Beck’s right behind him. I knew Benji was flying in today, and Beck offered to pick him up from the airport and surprise Mik at the studio.
The timing couldn’t be better. I really do need a break.
Mik runs to his man, and they embrace. My romantic heart sighs as they kiss as if they haven’t seen each other in months.
“Okay, tyrant, stand aside. I haven’t seen your man in too long, and I need a hug.”
I push Mik out of the way and am swallowed up in Benji’s hug. He’s a tall, lean man without an ounce of fat on him. He wears glasses, and he has the start of a five o’clock shadow on his handsome face.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmurs and kisses my head. “Are you keeping him in line?”
“He’s abusing me. That’s what he’s doing,” I say, giving Mik an evil grin. “He’s really mean to me, Benji. Make him pay. No sex. No cuddles. No murder documentaries.”
“Wow, you’re gonna make me pay too, huh?” Benji gives me one more squeeze before he lets me go, and I’m suddenly surrounded by my man, who’s hugging me from behind.
“Surprise,” I say to Mik, who’s hugging his guy once again. “ Now will you give me a break?”
“We’ll come back to it tomorrow.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You need to stretch, and you need to soak those feet. You’ve been stumbling and hobbling around here.”
“It’s grateful I am that you’re so good for my ego, Mikhail.” I roll my eyes. “Do you two want to have dinner tonight?”
“No,” they say in unison, making me cackle.
“Ew. Okay then. How long are you here, Benji?”
“As long as he is,” he replies, kissing Mik’s forehead. “I’ll work from here. Are you sure you want us living in your house?”
“I’m at the ranch with Beckett, so yes, please live in my house. Make yourself at home there, and let us know if you need anything.”
“We’re leaving,” Mik announces, pulling on his shoes. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’re welcome,” I call out to Mik, who just sends me a wave, not even looking back at me. “Love you, too!”
I’m laughing as the door closes behind them, then I spin around and hug Beck.
“That went well.”
“Benji seems like a nice guy,” Beck says, trailing his fingertips down my cheek.
“Oh, he’s way nicer than Mik.” Pulling back with a laugh, I sit on the floor so I can unlace my toe shoes, wincing with every movement. “Benji is the sunshine to Mik’s grumpy. They’re good together.”
“How long have they been married?” Beck shoves his hands in his pockets, but his jaw clenches when he sees the state of my foot. “Fucking hell, Irish.”
“I know, they’re bad.” I sigh and cringe as I wiggle my poor toes. “They’ve been married for about five years, give or take, but together for almost ten. Benji’s a total nerd. He’s a book editor, which means he and I have a ton in common since I’m also a book lover. Mik hates to read. They met through mutual friends. Mik finally got up the courage to ask Benji out on a date, and they’ve been pretty much attached at the hip ever since. This is probably the longest they’ve been separated, so it’s glad I am that Benji can work here.”
I peel the other shoe off and moan at the blood seeping out of my middle toes.
“You’re not putting shoes on those feet, Skyla.”
“I can’t walk around barefoot.”
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do.” The look in his eyes says that there’s no room for argument. “I’m taking you home, and we’re going to put your feet in to soak.”
Okay, that’s exactly what I was hoping to do, so I won’t argue with him.
“I still have to get home,” I remind him. “But I do have flip-flops with me. I invested in some, but I refuse to wear them in public because only you’re allowed to see me like this.”
“I’ll carry you.”
I smirk up at him.
“Hold on, I need five seconds to turn off lights and lock up. And I really do need to stretch.”
“Stay.” He points at me and walks to the back. I can hear him rustling around, and then the overhead lights go out. I quickly go through some stretches as Beck moves about the area.
Even Riley watches intently as Beck comes back to me and passes me my handbag.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He offers me his hand, but instead of just pulling me to my feet, he lifts me onto his shoulder and gives Riley the command to follow us.
When the door is locked, he carries me to his truck, opens the back for Riley, then sets me in the passenger seat.
“Well, that was … nauseating.” I let out a laugh. “I don’t think I enjoy the shoulder carry. Hello, motion sickness.”
“So noted.” He buckles me in, kisses my cheek, then walks around to climb into the driver’s side.
He holds my hand all the way out to the ranch, and once he’s parked in front of the house, he lets Riley out, who quickly relieves himself in the grass. Beck carries me inside and up the stairs to the bedroom.
“I’ll get the Epsom salts,” he says as he sets me on the vanity. “I want you to soak those feet.”
“I will. That sounds nice, actually. Do you have to go back to work then?”
“No, I’m going to stay with you.”
He turns on the water in the sink, and when it’s the temperature he likes, he pulls the stopper to keep the water in and pours in a handful of salts.
This is how I prefer to soak my feet. Sitting on the bathroom vanity with my feet in the sink. It’s easiest.
And when I slowly lower my poor feet into the warm water, I sigh. It hurts at first, but then it starts to soothe.
“Is this going to be how it is until this performance is over?” Beckett asks as he leans on the counter and pulls me into him, hugging me to him and brushing his lips over the top of my head.
“It’ll get better. I don’t have any calluses anymore. Just when my feet adjust, it’ll be time for the performance, then it’ll all be over.”
“Hmm.” He kisses my temple. “What can I make you to eat?”
I let this sweet moment soak into my pores as I lean against him. I do believe that Beckett’s love language is acts of service. He’s constantly caring for me and pampering me. His aftercare once we’ve finished making love is next-level brilliant. He’s always making sure I’m comfortable and never hungry.
It’s no wonder that I fell in love with him so quickly.
“I should probably have a protein smoothie and some chicken.”
“What do you want , baby?” He’s still peppering my head with kisses.
“A cheeseburger.” I laugh against him, and he tightens his arms around me. “But I can’t do that. I’m working too hard. The protein is good for me. Maybe we can have pasta for dinner. I could use the carbs, too. I’m burning a lot of calories right now.”
“You can have whatever you want.”
“You say that to me often, Mr. Blackwell.”
“Because it’s true.” He buries his lips in my hair. “Why don’t we curl up for a while and read when you’re done here?”
“Wow, you’re really spoiling me today.”
“Get used to it, baby.”
I’m definitely getting used to it. It’s been nine days of being spoiled, of living here at the farm, and aside from some bad dreams and waking up in a cold sweat because of everything The Arsehole has done to me, I’ve mostly felt at peace. All because of this man.
I’m not simply used to it. I’m keeping him if it’s the last thing I do.