Page 121 of Moms of Mayhem
When I opened the front door, Beckett was already grinning at me, holding out a handful of flowers.
“They’re a little wilted,” he whispered, glancing down at the flowers with an arched brow. “Hope that’s okay.”
I smiled as I reached for them. “They’re my favorite.”
He leaned forward just enough to kiss my cheek, the faintest brush of his lips against my skin. “God, you look like trouble.”
“And you look like you snuck out of your mom’s house at midnight.”
Beckett chuckled low in his throat. “That’s because I did.”
I closed the door quietly behind him and slid the deadbolt home. “Come on.” I took his hand. “Try not to wake the teenager.”
We crept up the stairs like teenagers ourselves, my heartbeat kicking up with each step. He was warm behind me, close enough I could feel his breath near my neck.
By the time we reached my bedroom, I was barely holding it together.
I turned, meaning to say something, but the moment the door clicked shut behind us, Beckett stepped in and kissed me.
No hesitation. No space between.
Just his mouth on mine like he’d been waiting all night. Like he needed this as badly as I did.
I clutched the front of his hoodie and kissed him back, letting the weight of everything we weren’t saying fall away.
Maybe we couldn’t name what this was. Maybe we didn’t know what came next. But he was here, and I wasn’t ready to let him go.
His hands slid under the hoodie I’d never returned and he’d never taken back, pushing the thick fabric over my head. I hadn’t bothered with a tank underneath, hoping my evening would end like this.
“Fuck,” Beckett muttered, his palms sweeping across my skin to cup my breasts. “You have the perfect tits.”
The warmth of his touch made my stomach twist, not just with arousal, but with something deeper. His thumbs brushed across my nipples, drawing a gasp from my lips as my head tipped back against the wall.
“You’ve seen them almost daily,” I said, voice uneven as he closed his mouth over one nipple, his hand kneading the other. “Figured you’d be bored by now.”
He answered with his mouth—biting gently at my skin, enough to make me shiver. “Never,” he whispered.
I dragged my nails up his back, feeling the way his muscles flexed beneath my touch, and it made him groan—deep and low. He leaned away just enough to yank his teeover his head in one rough pull, baring all that inked, golden skin I’d traced so many times.
The moonlight poured in over his shoulders, casting him in silver and shadow as he pressed his chest to mine again. His skin was warm, his heartbeat steady, unraveling me with every beat.
Our mouths met again, slower now. Softer. Like we were trying to say everything we were too scared to say out loud. I looped my arms around his neck just as his hands gripped my waist, tugging me tight against him before lifting me off the ground entirely.
I wrapped my legs around his hips, clinging to him like I never wanted to let go. He carried me across the room and lowered me gently onto the bed like I was something precious. Like I mattered.
He hovered over me for a second, eyes searching mine. I almost told him then. Almost whisperedI love you, but the words stuck behind the fear.
It was all too much—his hands, his mouth, his weight against mine. But it still wasn’t enough to hush the ache in my chest. The one that whispered,This can’t last. This isn’t yours to keep.
I blinked hard, willing the tears away. He kissed down the side of my neck, slow and reverent, and it took everything in me not to break.
“Hey,” he murmured, lifting his head, voice gentler than I deserved. His breath brushed my cheek. “Em.”
I tried to smile. Failed. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” He didn’t pull away. He just stayed there, watching me. Patient. Present.
“I wish this didn’t have to end,” I said finally, thewords pulled from that aching space behind my ribs where the hope lived—and the fear right beside it.
