Page 85 of Love, Lacey Donovan
“Damn,” Beckett said. “And I thought my family was ruthless.”
I remembered the article I’d seen on Gabi’s phone about Vinroot Enterprises and their hostile takeovers.
“Then what happened?” Beckett asked.
I chewed my lip. “I’m still paying him back,” I said.
Beckett scoffed. “I’m sure you didn’t ask for an expensive education when you went to kindergarten. You shouldn’t have to pay for your parents’ decision.”
I shrugged. Beckett was right, but it didn’t matter. I was paying it back on principle. The sooner I sent that last check, the better.
“If only I didn’t have such a weakness for expensive underwear and mocha lattes, I would have paid more of it off by now,” I said.
“I’m a big fan of your underwear collection,” Beckett said. “But I think your issues with love have more to do with Daddy Dearest than the asshole who dumped you.”
“Actually, his mother dumped me,” I said, laughing. I’d never spoken to Julian again. I’d never even Googled him.
“That’s rich,” Beckett said. His eyes suddenly skittered past me, as if he was chasing an idea.
“That’s going to end up in a book someday, isn’t it?” I asked.
Beckett’s gaze snapped back to mine. “Sorry,” he said, clearly embarrassed to have been caught plotting. “Not if you don’t want it to.”
My chest tightened, then I exhaled, letting Julian and his mother go. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe you’re right. Maybe my issues are with my dad, not Julian.”
“I can’t even tell my dad I’m a writer,” Beckett said. “We’re quite a pair.”
I liked the sight of Beckett in my bed. His torso was bare, and his broad shoulders blocked most of the headboard. He took up too much space in the bed… my apartment… my life.
I took a deep breath and then sipped a little more air until my lungs were full. As I slowly let the breath go, I made room for Beckett. I let him invade my heart.
“Are you done eating?” he asked, eyes sparking at me from behind his crooked glasses.
I nodded, pushing aside the remains of the abused muffin.
He patted the mattress beside him. “Then come back to bed.”
A few hours later,Beckett disentangled himself from my sheets and scrambled out of bed. Standing up too fast, he hit his head on the low rafter. “Oof,” he groaned. “You should really get that fixed.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have to go…”
He searched the floor for his clothes, stepping into his pants without bothering with underwear. He zipped his pants but didn’t button them and reached for his shirt.
I watched his tantalizing chest disappear as he pulled on the shirt and did half the buttons before leaning over the bed to kiss me again. He leaned into me, kissing me long and deep. His beard scruff scraped against my cheek as he slanted his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue filled my mouth, and I threaded my hands through his hair.
Once we started kissing, we couldn’t stop. Beckett’s moan filled my mouth as he finally broke away.
“Come with me.” His hand curled around the back of my neck, holding me in place.
“Where?” But I already knew I was going.Anywhere.
“To my place,” he said. “I have a book to finish. But…” He kissed me again. “I need you too.”
His words shattered my resolve. I should have told him I needed him just as much, but the words wouldn’t come. The idea of needing him—needing anyone—was still too foreign.
“But what will I do? I don’t want to distract you from writing.”
