Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Joey
“I can’t help but think there’s a reason we’ve been pushed together.
Maybe it’s all a coincidence,” he says, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering there, “but it sure doesn’t feel like one.
At least not to me.” His eyes flicker between mine.
Even in the dim light, the hesitation there is obvious. So is the longing.
Still lying on top of him, I take him in, getting caught up on his strong throat, watching it flex as he swallows.
Beckett’s voice drops to a rough whisper.
“Josephine.” His hand finds my face, and I flush at his touch.
My skin prickles as his fingers slide into my hair, coming to rest at the nape of my neck.
His thumb traces the curve of my cheekbone, and I forget to breathe.
While his touch is featherlight, the intensity in his eyes is overwhelming.
He holds my face in his palm tenderly, like I’m his most prized possession.
He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again, he draws in a deep breath and studies me, like he’s memorizing every detail of my face, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
A muscle along his sharp jaw twitches. “If I don’t kiss you right now—even if it’s only once—I’m going to spend every day of my life regretting it.”
His words slice through my chest, cracking it wide open. To feel this wanted, this cherished, sends a tsunami of emotion through me. My heart pounds so violently I worry it’ll work its way right out of my chest.
With another stroke of my cheek, he leans in closer. “I’m going to kiss you now, Josephine. Is that okay?”
Wordlessly, I nod. Every part of me is aware of him. The weight of his emerald gaze, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my sensitive lips. Right now, there’s nothing else.
Just him.
Just me.
Only us.
With one hand buried in my hair, he closes the distance between us, and when he makes contact, it’s just a hesitant brush of his lips against mine at first. Tentative and tender, just like he is.
Though beneath the surface, there’s an undercurrent of restraint he can’t hide.
He pulls back and releases me, but I catch his wrist and bring his hand back to my hair. “You can do better than that.”
With a twitch of his lips, he dips his head, his mouth colliding with mine. This kiss isn’t tentative or tender. No, it’s filled with a charged intensity. With the longing that came with every accidental touch and lingering look.
A moan vibrates deep in his chest, and I whimper in response, my body giving me no other choice. I cradle his face, relishing the solid press of his stubbled cheek, needing more of him.
I need him to take more. He has it in him—he just needs a little push. I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him in closer, as if we aren’t already sharing the same breath.
As if he can read my mind, he tilts his head, sweeping his tongue into my mouth and deepening our kiss.
It’s passionate. It’s consuming.
It’s everything I didn’t know I needed.
I’m weightless. Suspended in a reality that only exists for the two of us, here in this small cottage on a dark, stormy evening, my body burning up with building arousal.
The light flickers on overhead, and the appliances in the kitchen all beep, dragging us back to reality.
He pulls away, breathing heavily, wearing a pained expression, like this is the last thing he wants to do. Eyes glassy, he rubs his thumb along my sensitive bottom lip. The corners of his mouth lift into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
It’s as if we’ve been doused in cold water and forced back to real life.
I close my eyes, disappointment washing over me. Dammit. Why the hell did the power have to come back on?
In the dark, anything was possible. In the light, we’re hit with a stark reminder of the glaring difference between fantasy and reality. One we can escape to and the other we can’t escape from.
We’re both wordless, my head bowed, his attention bouncing around the room. We both know we got caught up in the moment. Maybe it’s because we’re lonely and starved for connection. We got carried away because it felt a little too good to finally be desired.
With a shaky exhale, I scramble off his lap.
He grasps my hips and helps me to my feet, and when he releases me, I try my damndest to ignore the way my heart drops.
He doesn’t make eye contact with me when he stands or when he collects the candles and returns them to the kitchen or when he whistles for Barbara to follow him.
To be fair, I can’t bear to look at him either. My heart is too fragile.
At the staircase, he hesitates, and I finally look up.
His back is turned to me, his muscles tensing under his thin shirt.
“I’m, uh, going to head to bed. Good night, Joey.
” His words come out strangled, like he’s battling with himself.
With one foot on the bottom step and his hand white-knuckling the banister, he shakes his head. Then he ascends the stairs.
The sound of his door closing reverberates through the house, hitting me with a symbolic sense of finality. Encapsulating unspoken feelings and emotions that are now forever locked away.
I rub my tired eyes and sigh. I should get some sleep. Tomorrow I can be easy, breezy, nothing bothers her Joey. But tonight, I’m giving myself permission to wallow and ruminate.
I turn off the lights and make sure the doors are locked for the night.
Then I slip into my room and close the door, the latch clicking into place.
Leaning my back against the cool wood, I let out a long breath and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to ease the tension and regret building inside me.
That kiss dragged me so deep beneath the surface that I couldn’t see the light.
Truthfully, I was more than okay with that.
If anything, I would have stayed much, much longer if I could.
A soft creaking noise outside my door breaks through my thoughts, and I straighten, listening.
Maybe it’s Barbara
“All right, Babs,” I say, pulling the door open, “you can come—” My breath catches and my heart stutters. On the opposite side of the threshold, Beckett stands with his hand poised to knock. “What’re you doing here?”
He steps in close, leaving us toe to toe in the doorway. “Something we hopefully won’t regret.”
With his index finger, he hooks the waistband of my pajama pants and drags me against him. Then he threads his fingers through my hair and grasps my nape.
His hold on me is strong yet careful. A blissful balance that makes me feel deeply cherished.
Irreplaceable.
Unforgettable.
No one has made me feel the way he does—it’s addicting and euphoric.
As a storm of emotions overwhelms me, my heart hammers behind my ribcage. My legs tremble, and as my knees buckle, Beckett wraps a firm arm around my waist. His rough hand slips under my shirt, fingers sinking into the heated flesh of my lower back.
Through my thin cotton pajama pants, his thick erection presses into me and I stifle a moan. A deep, needy ache unfurls in my core. The urge to press my body against his, to seek friction and relief, consumes every one of my thoughts.
His eyes burn into mine. “Are you okay with this?”
Breathless, I nod. “Yes.”
Jaw tight, he searches my face. “Do you want this?”
I tip my head back so he can see the truth in my expression. “Desperately.”
I need this man’s body on my body. I’m not picky about how he does it, just as long as he does it soon.
“If at any point you want to stop, we’ll stop.” His stern voice sends a chill through me and makes my stomach twist in anticipation.
I clutch his T-shirt and slam my mouth to his.
Groaning, he backs me over to the bed, and when I hit the mattress, I fall backward, bringing him with me.
Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his firm waist, pulling him closer to me.
For a moment, he pulls away, pausing just long enough to remove his glasses and place them on the nightstand before his lips find mine again.
His warm, firm mouth works against mine with confidence.
The stubble on his jaw grazes my cheek as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.
I feel his heartbeat against my palm, racing to match my own.
Our breathing becomes erratic, gasping for air between kisses—desperately needing more of one another.
He grinds against me, his hard length pressing against my clit through my pajamas. When I whimper, he swallows the sound and rolls his hips. In seconds, my pajama pants are soaked and I’m meeting his thrusts with fervor.
I drag my nails lightly down his back, then grasp the hem of his shirt.
He pulls back so I can tug it over his head.
Then, breathing heavily, he drinks me in.
His tattooed forearms are resting on either side of my head, his dark, lust-filled eyes scanning my face like he’s cataloging every detail, like he’s counting every freckle.
Expression softening a fraction, he balances on one arm and cradles my face. “You captivate me.” The sincerity in his tone makes my heart want to explode. Once again, he leans down and brushes his firm lips against mine, letting them linger for a few seconds.
He trails his fingers down my neck to the first button on my pajama shirt, then with his eyes on mine, he waits for permission.
Frantically, I nod, and he quickly undoes the top button, then places an open-mouthed kiss on the freshly exposed skin. My body hums with every press of his lips. With each button he unfastens, he drops a kiss to my skin, each more intense than the last.