Page 50 of Backed By You
God, I handled that so badly. Ambushing him like that, in front of his brother, with my desperate plea and my stupid joke about orgasms. I cringe at the memory as I pace, wearing a path in the hardwood floor.
The voices outside grow louder for a moment, then suddenly cut off. A truck door slams, followed by an engine starting. I freeze mid-step, straining to listen as the vehicle pulls away. I wait for something to tell me what just happened, but there’s only silence.
Did Beau leave, too? Or is he going back to work, writing me off as the desperate, broken tenant who can’t handle her own life? I sink onto the couch and angrily tear off my useless walkingboot that’s pinching my calf yet again. It hits the ground with a thud, and I bury my face in my hands. Hulk whines softly and limps over, resting his massive head on my knee. “I really screwed this up, didn’t I, buddy?” I whisper, scratching behind his ears.
The front door crashes open without warning.
Hulk barks, and I jump, my heart in my throat. My head whips to face the door where Beau’s broad stance fills the entryway. His bare chest rises and falls rapidly. There’s something wild in his dark eyes—raw and determined. A man possessed.
I stand as he steps inside, shutting the door behind him. His gaze never leaves mine as he says roughly, “Yes.”
I blink. “What?”
He walks closer, each step deliberate. “I’ll go with you. To California. All of it.”
Relief hits me so hard my knees nearly buckle. “Beau—”
“But we’re done pretending there isn’t something here between us.” He stops just inches away, close enough that I can see the need in his eyes. The way his arms flex to reach for me.
I nod vigorously. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Not because of your father.” He cups my face and his thumb brushes away a stray tear slipping down my cheek. “Because for a split second, I thought I was going to lose you before I ever truly had you.”
His mouth crashes against mine. The kiss is greedy, hungry, full of all the attraction we’ve been dancing around for weeks. I melt into him. I grasp his shoulders, his skin hot to the touch as he backs me against the wall beside the bedroom door.
“I fucking want you, baby,” he breathes against my lips. “More than anything. I want to be with you in every fucking way, and it’s tearing me up inside how bad I needyou.”
My body ignites at his words, his rough tone, and the way he presses his hips into mine. “Yes,” I whisper between kisses.
His hands slide down to grip my thighs, and suddenly I’m airborne. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries me through the bedroom doorway, his mouth never leaving mine. The kiss is desperate, consuming, like he’s trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into this moment.
He tosses me onto the bed with a primal growl that sends heat pooling between my thighs. I bounce once on the mattress, breathless and wanting, as he stands at the foot of the bed, his eyes devouring me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters, his fingers finding the hem of my shirt.
I lift my arms, helping him strip it off. The cool air kisses my skin, but I’m burning everywhere his molten gaze touches. His eyes darken at the sight of my lace bra, and I watch his throat work as he swallows when I remove it. My nipples harden under his stare.
His touch is surprisingly gentle as he slides up my sides, a stark contrast to the intensity in his expression. He unbuttons my jean shorts with deliberate slowness, dragging the zipper down tooth by tooth until I’m squirming beneath him. “Please,” I pant.
“Patience,” he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips.
He peels my shorts down my legs, leaving me in just my underwear. I expect him to rush, to tear the remaining fabric from my body, but instead, he kneels at the edge of the bed and presses a kiss to my ankle, then another to my calf, moving upward with agonizing slowness.
“I’ve craved your taste all damn day, sweetheart,” he confesses against my inner thigh, his breath hot against my skin.
I fist the duvet when his lips travel higher. The bristle along his jaw adds to the raw need building inside of me. His strong hands push my thighs apart and the look he gives me makes me feel worshipped rather than exposed.
“Beau,” I whisper, a plea.
“I’ve got you,” he promises. “Always.”
He hooks one finger into the side of my panties, and his mouth is on me. I cry out at the first touch of his tongue, my back arching off the bed. He holds my hips firmly, keeping me in place as he devours me. Each stroke of his tongue sends electricity coursing through my veins. I’m trembling beneath his mouth. His touch.
When he slides a finger inside me, I nearly come off the bed.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans against me, the vibration of his words intensifying the sensation pulsing through my clit.
He tries to add a second finger, but I tense from the pinch of it.
