Chapter 34 #2
His eyes close for one second, and the slow movement of his throat when he swallows wrecks me.
I want my tongue there. Christ, I want to drag it over the hard line of his Adam’s apple, feel his pulse jump under my mouth, suck until I leave something behind and see exactly how long Beckett Vale can keep pretending patience is a virtue when I’m standing between his legs wet enough to ruin my underwear.
His eyes open again, darker now. “Okay.”
At his answer, I reach for his hand, and my heart kicks harder than it has through any of the obscene things I’ve imagined doing to the rest of him.
I lace my fingers through his slowly. Beckett watches me do it and doesn’t move until I’m completely threaded through him, only then closing his hand around mine. Large, warm, firm, rougher than I expected, and the contact goes through me like an electrical current.
My throat tightens and I almost laugh at myself. Of all the things I want from this man, it’s holding his hand that makes me want to cry. It’s the smallest physical thing possible, yet one of the most intimate choices I’ve made with another man in years.
He sees the wetness gathering in my eyes; of course he does. His thumb strokes once along the side of my hand, slow and careful, then stills. “I should go.”
“Probably.” Neither of us moves, and I raise our joined hands, watching something shift in his face when he realizes where I’m taking them.
I press my mouth to the back of his hand, slow enough to feel the warmth of his skin against my lips, and keep my eyes on his the entire time. His fingers tighten around mine.
“When I kiss you,” I say, my mouth still hovering over his knuckles, my breath warm against his skin, “I want to do it when there isn’t another man’s name attached to mine.
I don’t want Grant in the room with us, not on paper, not in the back of my head, not lurking somewhere inside the reason I have to pull away from you.
I want my divorce finished, I want my name to belong to me again, and when I finally put my mouth on yours, Beckett, I want to be able to be fucking selfish about it. ”
His jaw tightens.
I lower our hands but keep our fingers locked.
“I don’t want one careful kiss that ends with me going home and pretending I didn’t spend the whole drive thinking about another one.
I want to kiss you until my lipstick is all over your mouth and those glasses are crooked.
I want to climb into your lap and find out how long that famous self-control lasts with my thighs around you.
I want to feel your hands on my ass without wondering if I’m allowed to want them there, and if I decide I want to grind against you until I can’t think straight, I don’t want some fucking marriage certificate sitting in the back of my brain making me feel guilty for it. ”
For the first time since I’ve known him, Beckett Vale looks genuinely blindsided.
The sight makes me reckless.
I lean closer, my free hand settling on the arm of his chair beside his shoulder, until my mouth is a breath from his.
“And I definitely don’t want my first kiss with you ruined by me wondering what a judge would call it.
I want to be divorced when you kiss me, so if I end up with your tongue in my mouth, my hands in your hair and my pussy so wet I can barely sit still afterward, the only thing I have to regret the next morning is not doing it sooner. ”
Color climbs straight up his throat.
Holy shit.
Beckett fucking blushes.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and I watch his composure take a visible hit. “Laurel.”
I smile. “What?”
“You need to stop talking.”
“Why?”
His fingers flex between mine, once, hard enough that I feel it everywhere. “Because you said not yet, and I’m trying very fucking hard not to make you regret standing this close to me.”
Heat rolls through me so violently my knees almost betray me. “That supposed to scare me?”
“No.” His gaze drags back to mine. “It’s supposed to get you to take one step back before I start telling you exactly what I’ve been thinking about doing to you.”
My mouth goes dry.
I bring his hand back to my lips one last time, kiss his knuckles slowly and let him watch me do it. “Save it.”
His brows pull together.
“For when my name is mine again.” I release him finger by finger, letting the last one drag against his palm. “Then you can tell me every filthy thing.”
Beckett stares at me as I take one step backward. His voice is rough when he finally says, “You’ve got no idea what you just signed yourself up for.”
My entire body lights up. “I’m counting on it.”
My throat is sore from all the talking by the time I gather my things, a quiet reminder that sexual frustration doesn’t exempt me from rules. I make it three steps from the door before I stop.
“Dinner.”
Beckett looks up, eyes still a little dazed. “What?”
“You said you wanted dinner without lawsuits, vocal folds or Grant.”
“I did.”
“After the next court hearing. Somewhere nobody from Nashville goes.”
His eyes hold mine. “Is it a date?”
I think about Nora telling me revenge can mean taking things back for myself, Mama getting on a plane to Boston because I asked, Grant insisting another man must explain why I left him because my own reasons could never be sufficient.
All the years fear got the first vote and desire was expected to accept the result.
“No.” One eyebrow lifts, and I smile. “It’s dinner. If it becomes a date, I’ll tell you.”
A slow smile starts at one corner of his mouth. “Sounds terrifying.”
“It should.” I curl my hand around the door handle. “You said you wanted every part of my life I’d let you into. Congratulations, Vale. You’ve made it to dinner.”
∞∞∞
Evelyn calls before I make it out of the parking garage, and whatever is in her voice wipes the smile straight off my face.
“Do not go home yet.”
My hand tightens around the steering wheel. “Why?”
“Sloane violated the order.”
Every pleasant feeling left over from Studio B disappears. “How?”
“She went to Nora.”
For a second the sentence refuses to make sense. “What?!”
“Nora called the police twenty minutes ago. Sloane showed up outside her writing room asking where you were. Nora told her you weren’t there and told her to leave.
Sloane refused, demanded that Nora call you, said she needed Nora to give you a message, then tried to get past her into the building after Nora told her no. ”
Cold spreads through me. “Did she touch her?”
“No. Building security intervened before it got physical. The police have the video, and Nora has already given them the message Sloane insisted she pass along to you. That gives us the indirect-contact issue we didn’t have with the video she posted.”
“Where is Nora?”
“Safe. At the precinct giving a statement.”
“I’m going.”
“Security is coming to you first. Laurel, listen to me. Do not give her what she’s trying to manufacture. She wants direct contact, an argument, anything she can later frame as mutual hostility. You are not going anywhere without security tonight.”
I close my eyes.
A knock against the window jolts me, but it’s only Beckett. He’s standing beside the car with one hand lowered from the glass, his expression already changed from whatever he saw on my face through the windshield. He waits until I look at him before coming any closer.
I lower the window.
“What happened?”
“Sloane went after Nora.”
Every trace of warmth leaves his expression. “Is she okay?”
“Yes. Police are with her. Security is coming here.” My voice shakes on the last word.
“Do you want me to stay until they get here?”
My eyes burn. “Yes.”
Sloane has made the mistake Evelyn has been waiting for; she chose the door herself and started pounding.
I sit there waiting for security and understand the ugly little thing Grant and Sloane have always shared.
Grant destroys himself when he can’t control what he believes belongs to him. Sloane destroys herself when she can’t have what she believes someone else stole. Both of them keep mistaking consequences for enemies.
And I’m finally far enough away to let them burn without me.