5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Beckett
W hat the fuck did I just say?
Did I just ask her if she liked getting railed?
Oh fucking hell, why?! Why does my mouth have to be such a fucking weirdo?!
“I mean, in books. Not that you wouldn’t like that. I just meant, do you enjoy smuttier books?”
Oh look. It’s not getting better. Nope. We are just jumping in the deep end of the awkward pool today. That’s just great.
She turns her head to the side a little, like a curious puppy, and I take a deep breath, hoping I haven’t shoved my foot too far into my own mouth with this one.
“I do, actually. I wasn’t, well... I guess I just never had before. I read mostly fantasy, but recently branched out since I’m not so… restricted. Anyways, now I’m diving into all the smutty goodness and devouring every page. I love this authors work especially.”
Wait, she loves... my work?
Dammit! I know I’m blushing. I have never wanted to tell someone about my secret pen name so fucking badly. Not until now, that is. But I can’t. We aren’t there yet. But… maybe we can be? Eventually. Maybe my attraction to Lola isn’t quite so one-sided and far-fetched as I would have believed.
“I’m a book lover myself and do enjoy the ones more on the spicy side. Do you still like fantasy, or is it all sexy contemporary for you now?” Ha! There we go. Get her talking about books so I can mention the job opportunity. Then we can go to the store and maybe after I can even entice her to have dinner with me. My heart starts beating a little harder at the prospect.
“Oh, I love all books. Well, except biographies. Nothing against them, I’ve never been able to get into those. I suppose I find imaginary people far more interesting than real-life people.” She cringes and glances downward. “I suppose that’s kind of a horrible thing to say.”
I lean forward and snatch her hand. She doesn’t pull away, so I give her a reassuring squeeze before allowing my thumb to trail across her knuckles. “Not at all. It’s honest. There is nothing I admire more. I also find myself surrounded by more books than people on a daily basis.” She smiles at that, and the sight lights up the whole damn room.
Fuck, who am I kidding? Lola’s smile lights up my whole damn soul.
She is such a contradictorily beautiful creature. Both soft and strong. Light and dark. Sweet and sassy.
“It’s not even just the imaginary people, but the worlds too. And the smell of a book?” She moans, and I am so fucking thankful that my jeans are tight because I am rock-hard and ready for her. “There is really nothing that quite compares to the smell of a book. Well, except maybe a bookstore?”
CHA-CHING!
Here is my door, folks! Let’s hope I don’t fuck it up!
“You know, if you really enjoy books so much, my Aunt owns a bookstore.”
Her eyes light up with excitement. “Really? I don’t really get out much, but I will definitely have to stop by there sometime.” Her excitement calms with the end of her statement and I feel the hesitation.
Pushing forward, I direct my attention to our still connected hands and continue rubbing circles on her soft skin with my thumb. “I hope you don’t mind, but I mentioned to Marina that my Aunt was hiring, and she said you might be interested in something like that.”
“Oh.” She nibbles her lip a little, but sincere interest replaces the initial reluctance. “You know, that actually sounds great. Do you think she might actually be interested in hiring me?”
I hide my sheepish smile but can’t hide it from my tone. “Well, to be honest, I may have already mentioned it to her. She asked me to come and fetch you so that she can meet you and make it official. So I suppose she is more than interested.”
“What? No way! Wait... you were talking about me?”
Uh oh. Well no point in being evasive about that now. Although, that doesn’t mean I have to admit that I talk about her all the damn time. “Yeah, is that ok?”
“Of course I just...”
Something inside of me urges me on and I take the opportunity. Leaning in closer, I pull her hand so she, too, has to lean closer to me. “You just... what?” I nearly whisper the words.
I watch as her breathing ticks up a notch and her mouth parts a little. If her shallow breaths weren’t an indicator that my closeness was affecting her, then the pointed tips of her nipples showing through her sweater certainly were.
“I just... I... didn’t think you even saw me. Let alone talked about me.” Her answer is honest, and breaks me just a little.
Taking a chance–and channeling the mojo of some of my favorite characters–I lean closer to her face and place my hand on her cheek. Gazing deeply into her beautiful eyes, I let the honesty of my words roll off my tongue.
“I see you, Lola Barkley.”
She let’s out a small shocked breathe, but there is no hesitation in her movements as she falls forward and smashes her lips against mine. It’s a brief kiss, but enough to make my toes curl. When Lola pulls back, I’m filled with fear as tears streak down her face.
“I’m so sorry.” I truly don’t know what I am apologizing for, but I would do anything to see her smile again. Which she does as she continues to wipe more tears from her flushed cheeks.
“No, it’s not... It’s not that . It’s just...” She takes a deep breath to get her thoughts in order, and they all come out in a big whoosh, so I’m sure I don’t manage to catch them all.
“It’s just that I have been wanting to do that for months, and didn’t mean to throw myself on you, and I’m technically still married, so I am sure it’s not right that I kiss anyone , and I started my period so I am really emotional, and that is probably the sweetest fucking thing anyone has ever said to me, and... and... I don’t know if that makes it more romantic or just really sad.” She finishes with an exaggerated sigh, and my mind is still trying to play catch up.
However, two parts scream louder than the rest.
Firstly, she’s been waiting months for me to kiss her? Mentally, I berate myself a little. I definitely should have listened to Marina and made a move much earlier than now.
And secondly... why is she still married?
And why does that make me feel irrationally punchy towards a guy I have never had the displeasure of seeing?
“Ok, so I know what you’re probably thinking.”
I don’t answer. Mostly because I am thinking about so many things. So instead I opt to see where she is going with her own line of thought.
“Why in the world am I blurting all this out?” Alright, that’s not terribly far off. “Because I am a hot mess.”
Uhh...
Ok?
I am seriously confused now and not really sure how or if I should respond. Why does this feel like one of those tricks where nothing you say is right? I remain silent.
She lets go of my hand and stands up to pace. I may not know everything that is going on to the fullest extent, but I do know for sure that she is on the very edge of a panic attack. I have been there far too much myself not to see the signs. But I still don’t know what to say...
Fuck it. If I follow Lola’s lead, it’s not about the words right now. It’s about the escape.
Not letting myself give in to doubt and fear, I stand up from my chair and follow behind her. When she turns to continue her pace, she is in my arms, and my lips are on hers before she can pull away or second guess anything.
And it’s perfection.
Our meeting of lips goes from gentle pressure to passion in seconds. It's like someone lit us on fire, and we devour one another.
She becomes pliant in my arms, and I hold her, taking her weight so she can give in to the moment. As soon as her lips part, my tongue dives in. Her taste is sweet and strong, like a properly brewed coffee. No doubt reminiscent of her morning cup. It’s bittersweet perfection.
Our tongues dance feverishly.
I can’t get enough. I don’t think I will ever get enough.
We feast like starving feral beasts.
She purrs into my mouth, and it drives me wild. I slide one of my hands down her back and dip it under her sweater. Her skin is soft, and she presses her body against mine in a hard, nearly grinding motion. I continue letting my hand work its way slowly up her back, reveling in the feel of her flesh in my hand. A growl escapes me when I reach the spot where her bra clasp should be. Here, I thought her bra was thin, not missing altogether. How deleriously naughty.
I waste no time, bringing my hand around to cup her bare breast in my palm. It almost doesn’t fit at all. If my mouth weren’t already occupied, I would be fighting the urge to trace its shape with my tongue.
When I let my thumb rub across her peaked nipple, she breaks from our kiss and cries out. She brings her forehead to my chest and lays it against my heart. Taking that as my cue–and trying to calm my racing heart–I move my hand back to the outside of her sweater and just hold her.
Ok, so maybe I take a selfish moment and sniff her hair. So sue me.
However, there is a heavy fear expanding in my chest that she is about to announce the mistake of this whole situation and if this ends up being one of the only moments I get from her, I’m determined to fill my senses as much as possible.
My guilt wins over and I whisper an apology. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, so far, both times we have kissed, one of us has apologized. That doesn’t bode well.” She chuckles but doesn’t pull away.
Unsure if she is waiting for me to pull away, I shift just slightly. But she squeezes just a bit tightly, keeping me in place. “Can we just stand like this for a little longer?” Her voice is timid, but her body is still relaxed against mine, clearly soaking in all the comfort I can offer.
Unable to deny her anything, I smile softly and rest my cheek against the top of her head again.
Of course, it was at that moment that my brain chose to recite the cheesiest line from one of my favorite movies.
“As you wish.”