Page 61 of One Last Encore

"I tolerate you," she said, tilting her chin as her teeth sank into her bottom lip.

Beck smirked. "That so?"

His other hand found her jaw, fingers tracing along her skin, his thumb tilting her chin just slightly. "First, you hated me. Now youtolerateme. At this rate, you’ll be in love with me by next month. Better start saving that five dollars, princess."

"Not happening," she shot back, her voice stronger this time, like she needed to convince herself more than him.

Beck leaned in, his breath ghosting over her lips.

"You really don’t feel this?" Beck whispered. "This pull between us?"

He felt it in every nerve, an overwhelming need to close the distance, to touch her, to lose himself in her completely.

"Barely," Ingrid murmured, but her voice was little more than a breath, soft and unsteady.

Beck didn’t miss the slight shift in her stance, the press of her thighs together as if seeking friction. He bit back a smirk. She was cute when she was trying to stay composed, but her body told him everything he needed to know.

"Why are you squeezing those pretty thighs together?" he murmured, tilting his head as he leaned in just a fraction more.

Her throat bobbed with a quick swallow. It was another tell of how nervous she was, how worked up. That, and the restless twitch of her fingers.

Beck exhaled slowly, letting the heat of his breath brush against her skin. "You’re telling me if I peeled off that spandex, I wouldn’t find you dripping?"

He watched the war play out in her expression, the sharp inhale, the silent struggle behind her eyes. Then something in her gave. Her shoulders dropped just slightly, fingers unclenching at her sides. A flicker of defiance sparked in her eyes.

"Guess there’s only one way to find out."

His stomach tightened. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

"You sure about that?" His voice dipped lower, gravelly with restraint as he leaned in, his mouth hovering just over the shell of her ear.

His hands slid past her waist and caged her in against the full length mirror. His chest barely brushed hers, the heat of her body mingling with his, her breath quick and uneven against his skin.

"Because once I have you," he rasped, "there’s no going back."

Her breath hitched, her chest rising sharply as she stared up at him.

"When I taste you, there won’t be a single inch of you I don’t make mine." His hands against the mirror fogged the glass. He wanted to drag her against him, tear every barrier away, brand her with his mouth, his hands, his teeth. Worship and wreck her until there was no part of her he hadn't claimed. But she had to break first. Had to fall willingly.

"Then what are you waiting for?" she whispered, fierce and trembling.

Beck's eyes caught hers and holy hell. The look she gave him nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs. A silent dare.Come get me.

It slammed into him low and brutal, made his cock throb so hard it hurt.

His gaze dragged down her body, flushed, shaking, fucking perfect, and he couldn't wait another second. He trailed his fingers down her side, slow and heavy, savoring the little shiver he wrung from her.

Without warning, he grabbed her hips, spun her around, and pinned her hard against the cold mirror. She staggered, a soft, broken noise slipping from her lips as her palms slapped flat against the glass.

He stood behind her, towering, caging her in and watched as the mirror began to fog with her desperate, panting breath.

One hand braced beside her head, the other dragging rough and claiming down her trembling body.

"Look," Beck whispered, his mouth brushing softly against the curve of her ear. "Look at yourself, Ingrid."

She tried to turn away, but he caught her chin gently, coaxing her head back up until their eyes met in the mirror.

"Don't hide from me," he murmured, the words barely a breath.

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