30. Sawyer
SAWYER
I was dead on my feet by the time the last bull was ridden and the stands began to empty.
It’d been ages since I’d gone to a rodeo.
It wasn’t really my scene, but there was something distinctly nostalgic about it.
Grams took me many times when I was a child, obsessed with the idea of flying free on the back of a horse.
It was only after I realized how much money and training went into the sport that I decided it probably wasn’t for me.
Beckett and I walked hand in hand back to our car.
We planned on getting a late-night dinner with Liv, Duke, and the girls, but they were held back talking to some up-and-coming bullrider in need of a sponsorship.
He was already on the pro circuit and making a name for himself.
I hoped it worked out for both their sakes. Especially with the bars’ expansion.
You could never have too much publicity.
“Do you still want to grab something at Lucy’s?” Beckett asked. He opened my door and helped me inside.
Food was definitely calling my name, but my aching feet screamed louder. “I need to get these boots off,” I whined. “Who said it was a good idea to squeeze into these things?”
Beckett placed his foot on the floorboard, patting his knee. “Let’s get’em off then.”
I eyed him skeptically. “It’s cute that you think I can lift my leg that high.”
“Let me come down to you then.”
Before I could stop him, Beckett dropped to his knees in the middle of the parking lot and extended my leg. His hands skated over the leather until one rested above my heel and the other on the toe. He tugged lightly, only having to struggle for a moment before the first popped free.
“Oh my god,” I moaned, wiggling my toes. “Sweet relief.”
He smiled up at me as he did the same on the other leg. Then, he grabbed both boots and placed them in the back seat. “How about I make us a grilled cheese when we get home?”
“With pickles?” I asked hopefully. I didn’t know what it was about the combination that had me salivating, but Beckett didn’t seem to mind.
“I think I can manage that,” he said, closing my door and walking around to the driver’s side.
The arena wasn’t far from Beckett’s cabin, but I’d gone from hungry to hangry in the span of twenty minutes.
Each time my stomach rumbled, he placed a hand on my stomach and told our son to be patient a little while longer.
It was enough to stave off the threats I wanted to mutter if he didn’t feed me as soon as possible.
It wasn’t until we pulled up to the house that I remembered I wasn’t wearing shoes. Even though I’d grown up running around barefoot, I no longer had the calloused skin I did back then. Groaning, I turned in my seat to try to grab my boots, but it was no use. They were just out of reach.
“What’s wrong?” Beckett asked, peering behind him into the darkness. “What do you need?”
“I have to put my boots back on,” I whined. “My feet are too tender to go barefoot across the rocky drive. I’ll die.”
Beckett climbed out of the car, heading around to my side. He opened the door and unbuckled my seatbelt. When he tried to scoop me out of the car, I held my hands out to stop them. “Whoa. What’re you doing?”
I didn’t really like the thought of him picking me up when I wasn’t pregnant, but I was much heavier now than I was then. There was no way I could be sure he wouldn’t drop me or pull something trying.
“Taking you into the house?” He looked at me quizzically. “Figured that would be better than being uncomfortable.”
“By carrying me?” I asked.
He nodded slowly, confusion clear in his expression. “Yes?”
“Absolutely not. I’m too heavy.”
Beckett rolled his eyes. “Sugar, you’re not too heavy, I promise. Just let me—” I squealed as he placed one arm at my lower back and the other beneath my knees, lifting me into his arms. “There. See? I’ve got you.”
I held on to his neck, squeezing my eyes shut as he walked around the vehicle and bounded up the steps. The subtle scent of lavender greeted us as he walked through the front door and set me down.
“Don’t ever do that again,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder to steady myself. “That was the most terrifying thirty seconds of my life.”
“Even more than finding out you were pregnant?” he joked. When I just glared, he blew out a breath and whispered, “Okay… No jokes. Got it. Why don’t you go upstairs and run a bath while I cook us up some late-night snacks? You already said grilled cheese with pickles. What else?”
He really did have a way with words. Food was the way to my heart, and hearing him bow down to my weird ass cravings was nothing short of sexy.
It was then that I remembered our heated exchange with the cowboy hat.
The chances of that playing out now were slim to none, especially if he knew I wasn’t feeling my best.
“Do we still have any Hot Cheetos Puffs?” I asked.
“Bought two bags yesterday,” he said with a knowing smile. “Want me to put some mustard on your plate to dip them in?”
“Please,” I said, gripping his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. “That would be amazing.”
Beckett gently squeezed my ass before giving it a pat. “Consider it done. I’ll bring it up when it’s ready. Go soak your feet, okay?”
I nodded, watching him head into the kitchen before I made my way to the bedroom.
The stairs were becoming my enemy. It was getting harder and harder to walk up them without feeling like I’d just run a marathon, but the giant soaking tub upstairs was worth it.
Beckett had ordered a plethora of scented Epsom salts and bubble bath so that I could soak in style.
Making my way into the bathroom, I turned on the faucet and tested the water before creating a lavender concoction of my dreams. I shed my clothes, slipping into the foamy water, and sighed.
I’d never liked sitting in baths until a few months ago, but consider me a fan for life now.
Surrounded by a sweet floral haven, I let my eyes drift closed.
The image of Beckett in that stupid cowboy hat came to mind as my fingers trailed along my skin. The water lapped at the edge of the tub as I lay one palm flat on my chest and the other on my lower belly.
I didn’t want it to become a wardrobe staple, but the thought of him bringing it out every now and then had my thighs clenching.
I rubbed them together, searching for friction.
It wasn’t enough, but it was all I had. My stomach was so big now that I struggled to reach my clit without a vibrator.
It wasn’t like I carried one in my purse, so I was shit out of luck.
It was sheer desperation that had me running my fingertips toward my nipple, circling once, twice, three times before moving on to the next.
It felt so good. Especially as my fingers turned into Beckett’s in my mind.
How he would watch me with such quiet intensity as my breathing quickened and I pleaded for more.
And then his hands would glide over my skin, across my belly, and then lower to the one place I needed them most. It was the thought of his fingers dipping inside me that had me losing my mind.
“Beckett…” I moaned softly, clenching and rubbing my thighs in hopes it could give me some release. “Touch me.”
Cold air across my nipples drew my attention toward the door, and I froze.
Beckett stood in the doorway, jaw clenched and eyes burning as he unabashedly stared at my body peeking out of the water. The plate in his hand shook ever so slightly.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Beck—”
Beckett cleared his throat, immediately closing his eyes and turning his head away. “I, uh, said your name through the door,” he stammered, thumbing behind him. “But I can tell now… I-I’m sorry.”
“Wait!” I called out, but it was too late.
He placed the plate on the bathroom counter and quickly left the room, leaving me in silence.
My head fell back against the padded pillow.
This was a goddamn disaster. How the hell was I supposed to go back in there with a straight face knowing he saw me grind against my own leg in search of an orgasm? How pathetic was that?
But why did I feel like that? I’d made my intentions and desires known on multiple occasions. It shouldn’t be any surprise at this point. And it wasn’t like he’d never seen me naked before, or what it looked like when I came.
Honestly, the more I thought about it, the madder I got.
With a huff, I pulled myself out of the tub. It was a struggle to do it without Beckett’s help, but I managed. I sure as hell wasn’t going to call him back in here now, even though I knew he would do it without question.
I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my body as best I could. It didn’t quite cover everything, but it worked. It was definitely a far cry better than walking out naked. As it was, I’d have to slip into some of Beckett’s clothes because I hadn’t thought to pack a bag.
I’d only fallen asleep here a handful of times, but it was either outside beneath the stars or on the couch after a movie.
We hadn’t slept in that bed together since August. But tonight, whether he joined me or not, I would be slipping between those sheets.
They were extremely soft, from what I remembered.
With one hand holding the towel together and the other gripping my plate of snacks, I stepped out of the bathroom. I scanned the room, immediately finding what—or who—I was looking for.
Beckett sat at the edge of his bed, gaze fixed on the wall ahead like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. He made no effort to move, nor did he utter a single word.
Fine. If that was how he wanted our night to go, I’d bite. I could carry on like he wasn’t there, even if the thought of doing so caused an ache to bloom in the center of my chest.
I set the plate down on the nightstand before walking past him toward the dresser. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him run his hand along the stubble gracing his jaw.
And then I dropped the towel.