Page 113 of Forsaken Oath

His jaw ticks, but there’s a playful gleam in his eyes. “Should I be?”

I turn in my seat to face him fully, my knee brushing against his thigh. “Nate and I have been friends since we were kids. He’s like a brother to me.”

“I doubt he feels the same way.”

I let my fingers trail up his chest, relishing the feel of hard muscle beneath soft cotton. “You have nothing to worry about,” I murmur, holding his gaze. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Something flashes in Beau’s eyes, hot and intense. His hand finds my hip, his touch searing through the fabric of my dress. “Good,” he rumbles, his voice low and rough. “Because you’re fucking mine, Eloise Hawthorne.”

My breath hitches at the promise in his words, the unmistakable claim. I’ve never wanted to belong to anyonebefore, but with Beau, it feels right. Natural. Like puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

I lean in closer, my lips a hairsbreadth from his. “Show me,” I whisper, my voice husky with need.

Beau’s eyes flash, dark and hungry. In one fluid motion, he hauls me into his lap, his hands gripping my hips possessively. I straddle his thighs, my dress riding up as I settle against him. Beau’s hands skim up my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. One hand tangles in my hair, angling my head just right as his lips find mine in a searing kiss.

I melt into him, my fingers fisting in his shirt as I lose myself in the all-consuming heat of his mouth, his touch. His tongue sweeps along the seam of my lips, demanding entrance that I grant without hesitation. He explores me with a thoroughness that has me moaning into his mouth.

But even as I lose myself in his kiss, I feel the constraint of the Hellcat’s interior. The gearshift digs into my hip, the steering wheel pressing against my back. It’s not enough, this small space. I need more. More room, more of him.

As if reading my mind, Beau tears his mouth from mine, both of us breathing heavy.

“Do you trust me, Peach?”

“Yes,” I answer, without hesitation.

He opens his door, and with one hand around my lower back, he steps out of his car. He closes the door with his boot and stalks to the front of the Hellcat.

Beau sets me down on the smooth, cool surface of the Hellcat’s hood, his movements gentle yet purposeful. The metal warms quickly beneath my bare thighs, the engine’s residual heat seeping through the thin fabric of my dress.

He steps between my parted knees, his hands skimming up my legs to rest on my hips. His touch is electric, igniting sparks beneath my skin that flare and dance through my veins. I leaninto him, drawn by an invisible tether, a gravitational pull I couldn't resist even if I wanted to.

“It’s just you and me and the stars, baby,” he murmurs, dropping his forehead to mine.

“You and me and the stars,” I repeat in a whisper, tilting my head and capturing his lips.

It’s a soft exploration, a hushed reverence in the way he slides my straps of my sundress over my shoulders.

Beau’s fingers dance along my skin as he slowly slides the straps of my sundress down my shoulders. The fabric whispers against my heated flesh, the cool night air kissing the newly exposed skin and raising goosebumps in its wake.

His touch is reverent as he traces the slopes and valleys of my body. Each brush of his fingertips ignites sparks beneath my skin, desire unfurling deep in my core. I arch into him, my own hands slipping underneath his tee and mapping the hard planes of his chest, the corded muscles of his arms.

We move slowly, without any of the usual urgency fueling our movements. This time feels . . . different.

It feels transformative. Profound. Like we’re standing on the edge of an endless cavern, the stars above bearing witness to our choice to jump off of it together. To fall into the dark abyss with one another.

His touch isn’t hurried or possessive; it’s reverent, like he’s memorizing me, mapping every inch with a quiet kind of awe. There’s something eternal about this moment, as if the world has paused just for us, holding its breath to see what we’ll become. His hands trace my edges, not to claim me, but to remind me that I’m whole.

That we’re whole.

49

ELOISE

Beau sinksto his knees before me, his hands skimming down my sides to rest on my hips. His blue eyes blaze with intensity as he looks up at me, desire and reverence mingling in their depths.

“You have no idea how crazy you make me, Peach.” Slowly, purposefully, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the inside of my knee.

“Beau.” My breath hitches at the contact, my fingers threading through his blond hair. He trails a path of open-mouthed kisses up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his stubble rasping deliciously and igniting flames with each brush of his lips.

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