Chapter 13
thirteen
Holy fuck. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I’m kissing Beckett again. And Beckett is kissing the hell out of me. I’m in the twilight zone right now, I swear. This is not happening.
Why did I fight this for so long? Why did I tell him no?
I had to know if that first kiss was just a fluke. If I had known kissing Beckett was always going to feel like this…
I still would have refused him. I would still have built walls around my heart so high he could barely see past them.
Because that’s who I am, it’s who I’ve always been.
But I don’t want to be that girl anymore.
I want to be the woman he sees in me every time he turns his hazel gaze to mine. I refuse to be anyone else anymore.
His kiss is demanding, taking every ounce of every possible thing I’m willing to give him.
He’s slow and deliberate, every move methodical.
Like he’s got nowhere else to be and nothing else to do in this lifetime but make sure his lips are tattooed onto mine.
As if I could ever forget this feeling. As if the feeling of his lips on mine won’t be burned into my DNA for the rest of my life.
This kiss is not gentle. It’s hunger, years of restraint from both of us melting in a moment. I gasp against him, my lungs screaming for air, my fingers twisting in his shirt, dragging him closer like I’ve been starving for this and nothing else will ever satisfy that hunger.
He presses my back against the nearest wall, hands tangled in my hair, my scalp stinging as he pulls my head exactly where he wants me to be. His breath whispers across my lips between shallow kisses.
“Tell me to stop, Willow.” He growls, his lips trailing down my neck. He bites the sensitive flesh where my shoulder meets my neck, and a whimper escapes my throat. Electricity shoots straight to my core, lighting up parts of my body I thought were long since dead.
“Don’t you dare,” I mumble, breathless and wrecked. If I wasn’t already ruined for any other man by the delicate way he cares for me every day, this would push me over the edge.
Our kiss deepens, raw, desperate, perfect in its ferocity.
Everything outside this room could fall apart.
Maybe it already has. But here in this kitchen, something real burrows deep into my chest for the first time in my life.
I want to give this man everything I have to give.
My heart, my soul, my mind, my body, everything.
I want to reveal my deepest, darkest secrets to him and never go back to hiding again.
His kiss is not soft. It’s combustion, an inferno.
It’s a confession silently spoken. His hand is in my hair, the control he’s demanding is such a different feeling than the way I’ve been controlled before.
My nails scrape down his spine through his shirt, and he hisses into my mouth.
His rough hands trail down the curves of my body, exploring every inch of me.
“Beckett. I’ve wanted this for so long,” I say, breathless and panting.
“Say the word, and I’ll never stop. I’ll spend the rest of eternity making sure you’re kissed exactly the way you deserve to be kissed, pretty girl.” He whispers, goosebumps trailing down my arms.
And just when he’s about to deepen the kiss, just as I lean toward him, finally surrendering something I never thought I would give away again…
The front door closes quicker than we can process.
“What the fuck is this?” Jaxon’s voice cuts through the haze in my mind, snapping me out of the lust-induced coma. I push Beck off of me, instantly missing the warmth of his body against mine.
“Jax! What are you-” I ask, but he cuts me off.
“Fuck what I’m doing, what the fuck are you doing?!” His voice sounds panicked, strained.
“Hey, let’s just calm down, okay? I understand this is…probably not the kind of position you want to see us in. But you don’t need to speak to your mom that way.” Beck holds up his hands, trying to diffuse the situation.
But I see the confusion and fear in my son’s eyes.
It’s not anger, which is what I expected.
I’d even have understood a feeling of betrayal.
But I’ve seen this look on my son’s face before, and he’s scared.
Something is wrong, something bigger than catching Beck and I together.
I know he loves Beckett, and he’s not blind to the way we’ve been dancing around each other for years.
I thought he was okay with this, but maybe I was wrong.
“Jax, what’s wrong?” I ask, stepping closer to him. He backs away almost instinctively. As if he’s not really present in this room. His mind seems far away.
“I went home. I needed to grab some things for school. The front door was open. Not unlocked, but wide open. I know I probably shouldn’t have gone in…
but I did. The living room was trashed. Not just messy, Mom.
It was torn apart. Couch cushions gutted, drawers flung across the floor in our rooms. This wasn’t a break-in.
I don’t think I saw anything missing at all.
This was someone ripping our lives apart, this was…
rage.” He says, his eyes pleading with me to understand the meaning hidden there.
“Let’s just stay calm. We don’t know anything for sure, and it’s no use jumping to conclusions.
” Beckett says, but I can’t tear my eyes away from my boy.
Our glassy eyes are locked on one another, both of us knowing what neither of us wants to admit.
There is only one person in the world who feels rage like that towards me.
Cooper
Even just the thought that he could’ve finally found us is enough to turn my stomach.
The noise surrounding me muffles, my heart pounding in my ribcage.
Bile rises in my throat as I rush for the sink, emptying the contents of my gut.
Beckett is by my side instantly, pulling my hair back.
I wretch for what feels like forever before the world around me finally comes back into focus.
Beck’s strong hands rub a soothing path up and down my back, but it’s barely enough to keep me upright.
My legs feel like jelly, my knees barely capable of holding me up.
Beckett’s strong arms circle me from behind, and I lean into him.
He kisses my head softly, so soft I barely notice.
“I will never let anyone hurt you again, Willow. Neither of you. You are completely safe here.” He says, maybe to me or maybe to himself. Either way, I feel slightly better just hearing the words.
“You don’t know him, Beck. You do not understand what he’s capable of,” Jaxon says, his voice low and thin.
“You’re right, Jaxon. I don’t. But I do know myself.
And so do you. I will never let another person hurt either of you ever again.
I know I don’t talk about my past or my work now very much, but there are those who would say I am not a good man.
There is blood on my hands I will never be able to wash away.
But I would take a hundred more lives to save either of you.
” Beckett’s words are harsh and dark. They should make me reconsider all the feelings I’ve buried deep inside for him.
But if I’m honest, they have the opposite effect.
They make my body burn for him even hotter.
The kind of devotion he’s describing only exists in books for me, yet here it is right in front of my eyes.
His darkness is something I shouldn’t crave, but if I’m honest, I wanna dive into it headfirst and never come up for air.
He’s the kind of man people don’t look at twice until it’s too late.
Beckett is not loud. Not flashy. Just still.
He’s dangerous in a quiet way, like most predators are.
Patient, vigilant, coiled beneath a calm exterior, just waiting for the need to strike.
There's a wild storm in him, but it’s buried so deep.
It’s controlled like a secret he chooses to keep to himself.
Most people see his silence and mistake it for peace.
But I know better.
He is a violent force concealed in a dignified package. He’s polite and patient, but behind his eyes, there is a storm waiting for a reason to break free.