Chapter 14
fourteen
Jaxon questioned me for hours about what we should do.
I wish I had the answers he’s looking for.
If only I could tell him this is all just a bad dream and Cooper doesn’t really exist, but I can’t.
I was grateful Beck left us alone for a few hours so Jax could get things off his chest. He loves Beckett, I have no doubt about that.
But it’s different to see someone as a friend and a protector, and then to see that person making out with your mom.
There’s no way I could move forward with Beck if Jaxon wasn’t accepting of it.
My son is nearly an adult, but I’ll always be his mama.
I always want him to feel safe speaking his mind to me.
He seemed nervous, but ultimately happy about Beck and I becoming…
whatever the hell Beck and I are becoming.
I don’t blame him, I feel pretty much the same way.
But now I’m alone in the library, snuggled corner of the couch, wrapped in the softest blanket I’ve ever felt, just staring out the windows into the darkness.
I’ve told myself a dozen times I’m not waiting up for Beck, but that’s a lie.
I want to know where his head’s at after earlier.
I want to be direct and ask him exactly what this is that’s going on between us.
I want to feel his hand on me again. I’m dying to feel the fire in his touch again.
But is it just fun? Temporary? I’m not sure how much more temporary I can stomach in my life.
Something deep in my bones tells me nothing Beck does is ever temporary.
If I let him, his love would be the kind I can bet my life on.
Candles flicker on the fireplace mantel across the room, and I’m lost in the romantic feeling of this place.
This house is like a gothic Beauty and the Beast castle come to life, and I’m so in love with it.
I rest my head against the back of the couch and close my eyes, just praying for sleep to find me before Beckett does.
There’s no telling what will happen if he finds me first.
“Knock, knock, pretty girl.” His voice is soft. I don’t have to open my eyes to know how incredibly sexy he is right now. I can smell the masculine scent of his cologne mixing with the smell of books and leather already surrounding me.
“You don’t have to knock, ya know. This is your house.” I smirk, finally meeting his dark eyes. The fire there is barely controlled.
“For now,” he says, and I wonder what he means by that. Before I can think too long on it, he’s crossing the room, invading my space and stealing the breath from my lungs. This man is so fucking dangerous, but only in the very best ways.
He towers over me, his legs brushing against the blanket wrapped around my body.
The heat radiating off of him could burn me to cinders, it could completely decimate me with just a single touch.
But I think I’m past the point of caring.
I’m so tired of living half a life, just waiting for my nightmares to catch up to me and ruin every good thing I’ve built all over again. I won’t give up this life.
I refuse to give up this man.
I don’t know what I look like to him from this angle, but with the way he’s looking down at me, it must be good. He wants me. I think I’ve known from the first time we ever locked eyes that he would consume me, body and soul. I’m so tired of pretending I don’t want him just as badly.
I let the blanket fall off my shoulders, my fingers running up the sides of his thighs.
His muscles tense, and I feel a sense of victory.
I like knowing I affect him this way, as if I had any doubt.
A nagging voice in my mind says I shouldn’t be taking so many liberties with him.
I want to believe that it’s my place. That, for once in my life, I finally fit somewhere.
But I’m not sure I would believe him even if he said the exact words rolling around in my mind.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” I ask, looking up at him. With any other man, this position might feel vulnerable. But with Beck vulnerable somehow feels safe.
“I’m not sure you’re quite ready to hear everything I’m thinking, pretty girl.
It gets a little dark and devious up here sometimes,” he smirks down at me.
If the devil smiled, I imagine it would look a lot like the smirk painted on this man’s face right now.
Every word that comes out of his mouth feels suggestive.
Every time he looks my way, I can feel his eyes tracing a path across my skin.
“Tell me. I want to know,” I say, but it comes out unsure, more of a question than a statement.
“Something you’ll learn about me. I want your confidence, Willow.
I don’t want you ashamed of the flaws you perceive in your body or in your life.
Your body is fucking perfect. I don’t want you weak and afraid.
I never want to see you that way again. I want to hear you speak with strength in your voice, sure of yourself and your wants.
Completely unafraid to ask for the things you need.
Anything on this earth you can imagine, I will give it to you.
All you have to do is ask.” His fingertips trace the edge of my jaw, and I feel the sensation throughout my entire body.
“I want…you. All I want is you, Beckett.” I say, the words tasting sweet on my tongue.
The tightness in my chest unfurls slowly, a sigh of relief escaping my lips before in can hold it back.
I’m not sure what having him completely means yet, but I know I don’t want to be afraid anymore.
I want to be exactly who I am. No more hiding, no more lying. And I know a part of who I am is his.
“Stand up,” he says, my body obeying before my mind even catches up.
He commands, I obey. And for once in my life, I love how it feels.
It doesn’t feel like a prison, like chains dragging me down the way Cooper’s orders always did.
No, it feels like something else entirely.
Like the utter desire to please him with every fiber of my being because it’s truly what I want, not what’s demanded of me.
My eyes are level with his chest for only a moment before his hand slides around my throat, tipping my head back until his golden eyes meet mine. It’s bewitching, the way he can stare straight into the depths of me without any effort.
“I’m thinking that kissing you is the closest I’ve ever been to touching the sun.
I’ve waited patiently. I won’t wait anymore.
I know you want me, I know you always have.
I’m yours, Willow. Everything I am, everything I have, it’s yours.
” He slides one strong arm around my waist, pulling my body up to his level, crashing his lips against mine.
The taste of him explodes across my tongue, and I’m drowning in him all over again.
I don’t know how I ever survived without kissing this man.
Our lips meet in a rush of urgency, the room around us fading into nothing.
All I can feel is the thrum of my heart pounding against my ribcage, threatening to break through.
In the past, I would’ve been afraid of him trying to pick me up.
I’m not a small girl, I never have been.
At 5‘2” and nearly two hundred pounds, I know I’m thick.
But he lifts me with ease, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thighs.
His hands find the curves of my ass at the same time my legs wrap around his hips, two pieces of a puzzle made to fit together so perfectly.
I melt into him, my hands gripping his shoulders, clawing at his back, desperate for anything that will anchor me in this moment.
His kiss deepens, slow at first, then hungrier, tongues clashing, shallow breaths shared, our bodies drawn together like magnets. It’s not just the unrestrained passion I feel every time he touches me. It was something more. It’s a silent confession, a longing, a need to feel and be felt.
When we finally break apart, foreheads resting together, lips still tingling, eyes locked, it feels like something has shifted.
There’s no more back and forth, will we or won’t we.
Beckett has always been willing to go all in for me, it just took me longer to catch up.
But I know now I will never let him go. This is the one thing in my life, the thing I’ve always wanted just for myself.
This feeling, this obsession, the pure happiness and need he pours into me.
“Tell me to stop, Willow. Tell me right now,” he says, but I shake my head, my nails scraping down the back of his neck. A low growl rumbles through his chest.
“Never again. I’m yours, Beck.” His grip tightens against my thighs as the words leave my mouth. Before my mind catches up, he’s lowering my body down onto the couch behind me, his body hovering over mine.
His lips never leave my skin. I’m panting shamelessly, desperate for him.
A groan crawls up my throat as his hands skim up my legs, sliding under the thin cotton of my shorts.
He’s inches away from going further than I have with any man in years.
I try as hard as I can to shove the fear deep down into the darkness in the back of my mind.
I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anyone to touch me in my life.
I can feel every solid inch of muscle and bone and desire in his body pressed against mine.
I can’t help the tremor that overtakes my hands, and before I can hide it, I know he felt it. He stops, his body stilling.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I-” he kisses me, silencing my apologies before I can get them out.