Part 33 (1/2)
”I would like that,” she said and moaned. She arched her hips. ”I don't mean to tell you how to do your job, really I don't, but if you don't stop talking and get inside me I'm going to cold-blooded murder you!”
”Complaints can go in my-”
”Beck!”
His chuckle was a dark promise as he hooked his arms under her thighs and lifted her hips. With enough force to rattle the entire bed, he slammed all the way into her. The pleasure... It was almost more than he could bear, but he did it again and again, moving in and out of his woman. Because he had to, because he couldn't tolerate the thought of doing anything else.
The headboard banged against the wall. The pictures shook. He pounded harder, need driving him, obsession and addiction hanging on for the ride, a promise of more.
She gasped his name, writhing and thras.h.i.+ng.
”Let me watch you.” He pressed his thumb against her sweet spot and, just like that, she erupted, screaming, trembling, squeezing his shaft from base to tip.
He slowed his thrusts, sinking in a mere inch at a time. ”Nice and easy now.” Sweat trickled down his temples as he plucked at her nipples.
”Beck,” she gasped, the pleasure in her voice hitting his system with the strength of an entire bottle of whiskey. She hadn't yet come down from her climax, and the new pace drove her straight into another, her belly quivering, her core drenching him with electric heat. ”It's...it's... Oh, oh! I can't stop. It's not stopping.”
Her back arched, sending him deeper, and as he hit as far as he could go, his control finally snapped. Nice and easy? No longer possible. He hammered at her with everything he had.
A knock sounded at the door.
Had he locked it? He couldn't remember, just knew he would kill anyone who stepped through it.
He hammered, hammered, hammered, the bed rocking, rocking, the pictures banging, banging.
Another knock rang out. A woman's voice seeped through the cracks, ”Harlow?”
The thought of getting caught must have thrilled a secret part of his naughty beauty because she shot straight into another climax, and this time she milked him hard enough to send him over the edge of pleasure...pleasure that consumed him from head to toe. He roared, pouring every drop of tension into the condom, his muscles clenching and unclenching, the fire in his veins at last cooling.
”Harlow. You've got another room to clean,” the woman said.
Harlow gasped and scrambled out from under him. ”I'm, uh, coming,” she called.
”In more ways than one,” he muttered. He removed the condom and tied it off. ”I'll dress and we can head home.” He wanted to hold her. He wanted to feel her breath against his skin, and share secrets into the darkest part of the night.
”No way. You heard her. I have to get back to work.” She tugged on her clothing.
He gave a single shake of his head. ”You're coming back to work for me.”
”Sure. I'll continue my work on the character sketches, but I'll start after my s.h.i.+fts at the inn. I like standing on my own two feet, and besides that, I refuse to leave Dottie in the lurch.”
He gnashed his molars. My fault. More work for her meant less time for him. ”What about us? I'm in this thing one hundred percent.”
She smoothed the wrinkles from her top, plucked the ponytail holder from the floor and combed back her hair, taming it in a knot on top of her head. ”I am, too, but we're going to have to take it a day at a time.”
What the h.e.l.l? He didn't like having his words thrown back at him. ”Let's take it a week-a month-at a time.”
She smiled at him, soft and sweet and a little sad, but she didn't back down. ”I don't want to hurt you again, and I certainly don't want you to hurt me. We need to learn more about each other and actually, you know, date or something. I mean, we've slept together twice, but we've never even gone out.”
”That's not true. We've been dating ever since you stole my pie.” But he got where she was coming from. She'd shared bits and pieces about her past, but there was still so much he didn't know about her. Did she hope to have kids? Or would that be another wrench in their relations.h.i.+p?
”While you took all your randoms to dinner, you've never taken me anywhere. Like I'm an embarra.s.sment or something.” A tremor in her voice.
He'd hurt her. However unintentionally, he'd hurt her. ”I'm taking you out tonight. Don't make any other plans.”
She sighed. ”Doesn't have to be tonight. I'm not trying to rush you, Beck. Not anymore.”
”Tonight,” he insisted. ”And every night after.”
Another sad smile. ”I'm not hogging all your spare time, and I'm not putting a label on us. Not officially.”
”No label?” He exploded. ”That's what you've been pus.h.i.+ng for since day one.”
”Girls are allowed to change their minds.”
He was in her face a second later, practically breathing fire. ”Do you plan to see other men?”
”No.” Her glare was sharp enough to cut gla.s.s. ”Will you see other women?”
”No,” he said. ”I told you I wouldn't. I have no desire for anyone else.”
”Even though I won't be sleeping with you again? Not until we're labeled?”
He unveiled his slowest, wickedest grin. ”Think to hold out on me, do you, baby? We'll see how long you last now that you know what it's like to be filled. We might have scratched an itch today, but you'll be begging for me soon enough.”
She returned his grin, a woman who'd come to learn the power she held, making his gut twist. ”Or you'll be begging for me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.
HARLOW EMERGED FROM the room, spotted Dottie leaning against the wall, fanning her flushed cheeks, and blushed. There wasn't time to issue a warning-cover your eyes...or not, yeah, probably not-before Beck came up behind Harlow wearing only a towel. He pushed something into her pocket.
”Your phone,” he said, and nipped her earlobe. ”As my girlfriend, it's your duty-no, your honor-to send me hourly-half-hourly-reports about your day. I'll be waiting. And yes, I just labeled you.”
Tingles p.r.i.c.ked the back of her neck. ”It's only a label if I accept it. And are you sure you want to know about the joys of scrubbing toilets?”
”More than anything. I'll prepare to be riveted.”
Pulling away from him might have been the toughest thing she'd ever done, but she managed it.
”I want one of those,” Dottie said as Harlow closed the door, ensuring Beck wouldn't overhear the rest. ”I moved to the city for a few years and got married, but we divorced after only six months. If there's a trick to keeping a guy like that, you have to tell me.”
”There's no trick.” She hooked her arm through Dottie's and led her down the hall. ”If being yourself isn't enough, the guy isn't worth your time.” As Dottie's shoulders slumped with disappointment, Harlow said, ”You're amazing. Never let anyone convince you otherwise. Now. Do you have a particular guy in mind?”
A blush stained Dottie's cheeks.
”You do! Who is it?”