Chapter 13 Beckett
BECKETT
“Do you want to run to the store with me?” I ask. I hadn’t planned on going to the store this late. But apparently, I’d do just about anything to get her to talk to me. She looks up from her computer, staring at me for a long moment as if she is deciding if she should come with me or not.
She shuts her laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “Sure, let me go grab my shoes,” she says, running upstairs before coming back down with shoes and her hair up in one of those clip things.
“Ready?” I ask, she nods, pocketing her phone without a word.
“Did you have a good day?” I ask as we get into my pickup. I don’t want to sit in silence the whole time. I also don’t want this to be our new normal for the whole summer either.
“Yeah, it was fine,” she says, her body turned away from me as she looks out the window.
I nod, figuring that it would be best to just shut my mouth instead of trying to have small talk with a brick wall.
We walk wordlessly down the aisles, both of us grabbing what we need. I’m not sure what’s wrong, but I feel as though the middle of a grocery store aisle is not the right place to ask those kinds of questions.
The whole trip is silent, which is very odd for her. It reminds me of the old Sloane, and I don’t like it.
“No,” I say when she tries to separate our stuff. “I got it,” I say gently, taking away the little plastic separator and pushing her stuff into mine.
“It’s fine, I can pay for my own things,” she mumbles, trying to take the plastic bar from me.
“I never said that you couldn’t. I said I got it,” I say firmly, but not harshly.
She glares at me. “I’m paying for my own shit.”
I raise an amused eyebrow at her. “Are you now?”
“Yes, this is me standing up for myself,” she mutters, trying to move her items down the belt so that there’s some space between the two groups.
“You’re not supposed to stand up for yourself when I’m just trying to be nice,” I say, pushing her stuff back to mine.
Her glare sharpens. “Knock it off, Beckett,” she says, but I see the smallest smile try to fight its way onto her face.
“Please?” I ask, tipping my head innocently.
She bites her lip, and that’s when I know I have her. “Fine, but just this once,” she mutters, rolling her eyes at me before turning away to finish unloading the cart. Except, I do see the smile on her face, and that alone makes me happy.
Halfway home, it starts to rain, and not just a drizzle, but a downpour with hard, heavy rain against the windows. It makes it hard to see, no matter how fast the windshield wipers swish.
When we get home, I rush inside, letting out a breath. “Damn, it’s coming down fast,” I say, placing the bags on the counter. I get nothing in response, and I look around. “Sloane?” I ask, looking around to see that the front door is still open.
I walk over to the door and see her just standing out in the rain, looking up at the sky as it pours down around her. I can’t help but stare at her. Hair plastered to her face. Hoodie soaked. Her eyes are wide as she looks at me.
Her eyes drag up my body slowly, and when they meet mine, she has that look in her eyes. One that says she wants me as much as I want her.
I step forward, and she doesn’t retreat.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she whispers honestly.
She bites her lip, and I want to do it for her. I want to suck those plump lips into my mouth. I want to kiss her until she’s breathless.
“It’s raining,” she points out, and it makes me smile.
“I can see that.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I like this kind of rain. Mountain rain is so much better than ocean rain.”
I place my hands on her hips and pull her towards me. Her fingers grip the front of my shirt, and I want her to take it off. I want to feel her fingers on my skin.
“How is it different?” I ask, letting my eyes drift over her face as she keeps her eyes up at the sky. My eyes dance over her face, taking her in. The slow curve of her nose, the freckles that dot her cheeks, her pink lips.
“I don’t know, it just is. It feels different. In Georgia, they get the hurricane rains, and this kinda feels like it, but it’s not the same. It’s softer, and there’s way less wind,” she rambles, her eyes finally meeting mine.
I cup her cheek with one hand. “Do you miss it there?”
“Not as much as I thought I would,” she admits, leaning into my touch.
“Come on, let’s go inside,” I whisper, nodding towards the house. She lets me grab her hand and pull her inside.
I shut the door behind us, and she pulls me into the kitchen.
She seems a little bit better now than she did just a few minutes ago. She turns and lets me pull her to me.
“Is this ok?” I whisper, walking her backward, and pressing her up against the wall.
“Yeah.”
She doesn’t fight me when my lips meet hers instead; she welcomes me. Pressing her mouth to mine, she kisses me back with the same kind of passion that I kiss her with.
“Beck,” she whispers the nickname breathlessly, and I pull away, my eyes finding hers as she bites her lip. Her eyes tell me that she doesn’t hate it. That she’s ok with me touching her, with me kissing her.
“If you want me to stop, please tell me.”
She nods, and I pull at her hoodie. When she doesn’t stop me, I slowly peel it off, leaving her in just a damp tank top. I breathe heavy as I take a moment to properly admire her in the way that she should be worshipped.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Sloane,” I say, and her cheeks flush. I kiss her again. I pick her up without even thinking about it, her legs wrapping around my waist.
Her hands tangle into my hair, and I have to stifle a groan. No one that I’ve ever been with has felt this good, this right.
Her hands pull at my shirt, and I pull away long enough for her to get it up and over my head. She drops it to the floor, and it joins her hoodie.
“You feel so good,” she whispers, nipping my ear.
“Yeah, baby, you like the way I touch you?” I murmur. She whimpers in response, and it’s almost my undoing. A noise so sinful, it shouldn’t sound so good.
I carry her away from the wall and towards my room. Her face is buried into my neck, and her lips gently suck on the skin.
I get her on my bed, and I follow her down onto the mattress. We’re a mess of limbs and hot kisses.
“Beckett,” she gasps as I kiss down her body, nipping softly at her nipple that’s still covered by her tank and bra.
Fuck, I think I could die a happy man.
“You like that, baby?”
“Mhmm…yeah,” she whimpers, her body arching off the bed, pressing her into me.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I jerk my head up. My pager.
“Beckett, wait…”
“It’s my pager, I can’t—” I say, but she cuts me off by pressing her lips back to mine, pulling me on top of her.
But the spell is broken, and all I can think about is my job.
“I can’t…please,” I sigh, pulling away from her, and the look on her face is enough to make my heart ache.
“Someone else will take care of it,” she whispers, her eyes pleading with me to stay. But we both know that my decision was made the moment we were interrupted.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, getting up off the bed and quickly changing into dry clothes.
I offer her my hand to help her up. I can’t look her in the eyes, not when I know I just broke something fragile.
“Please just go,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
“Let me help you get dressed,” I plead, going to my closet to get her a shirt.
“Go. Just fucking go,” she whispers. I can hear the hurt in her voice; it’s like a stake through my heart.
“Are you sure?” I whisper, turning to look at her. The look on her face, her arms wrapped tightly around her body as she tries to hide herself from me, makes me sick with guilt.
“Go,” she whispers.
“Baby, please.”
“Get out, Beckett,” she hisses, and I close my mouth, not having the words to say to make this better.
I quickly pull on my own clothing, leaving before I can change my mind and go back to her, to beg for her forgiveness.