Page 8 of Bring Me Back
I turn him down as nicely as I can, the people pleaser in me still alive and well. As I turn to walk away, he snags my wrist. Panic grips my throat instantly. I do not like being touched. Especially by a total stranger I’d just brushed off.
“Wait, we could have a real good time, sweet thing. Come on, just one dance.” He says, grinning at me. I tug against his hold on me, his griptightening.
A gasp escapes my lips at the audacity of this man. Before I can tell him to get the fuck away from me, a looming presence sucks all the oxygen from the space surrounding us. I know it’s Beckett. I don’t have to turn around to see. The heat radiating from his body tells me he’s close enough to know I’m beyond uncomfortable in this situation.
“I may not have been close enough to hear, but I’m pretty sure the lady said no.” His voice sounds an octave lower than his usual deep timber, and goosebumps rise across my shoulders and down my arms.
“Maybe try minding your own fucking business, asshole.” The guy says, and I internally cringe. This won’t end well. I yank my wrist from his grasp and take a step back, Beckett’s chest barely brushing against my shoulders.
“He’s right. I said no, thank you. Now I’m just saying fuck off,” I tell the dickhead who can’t take a hint. The guy scoffs, rolling his eyes and turning to walk away.
“I didn’t want a mouthy bitch, just looks like she’s an easy lay. The fat ones always are,” the man mumbles, and the violence Beckett has been holding back breaks loose.
Before I can stop him, he wraps an arm around me, swinging me behind him and grabbing the man by the shoulder. He spins the asshole around, and it feels like time slows. The punch lands with a sudden, jarring impact, a flash of power as Beckett’s fist connects withits target. The sound is sharp, a crack resonating in the air around us as his knuckles make contact with the man’s jaw. His head snaps back as the force ripples through Beck’s body, sending a shockwave from the point of impact. The man’s body hits the floor, knocked out cold.
I’m practically panting, watching the event unfold, completely speechless. I’ve never seen such a display of raw power that wasn’t directed towards me. Beckett and I stare at each other, neither of us really knowing what the hell just happened. I’ve never seen Beckett do anything remotely violent. The potential has always been there, banked behind his eyes, but I’ve never seen him give in to the urge. The part of me that fought hard for the independence I have today wants to scream that I don’t need a man to defend my honor. But that would be a lie. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed, if I’m being honest with myself. I could analyze what makes me attribute violence with the heat burning low in my belly right now, but I prefer to keep my sanity. There’s just something about the fact that he’s only willing to swing for me, not at me, that makes my knees weak.
“Dude, are you trying to get us kicked out?” Iris asks, clapping a hand on Beckett’s shoulder. Our friends crowd around us, taking in the scene in front of them.
I can feel his eyes burning a hole through me. I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. I know what he wants.He’s looking for my reassurance that I’m not upset at him over what just unfolded here. Honestly, I’m not. The guy had it coming. But I know if I look into his hypnotizing eyes, I’ll give away all my carefully guarded secrets. He’ll know the controlled violence he displayed turned me on far more than it should have. He’ll see the fire blazing under my skin, desperate to feel his touch.
“Willow, I’m-” he starts, but I don’t want his apologies. I’m not sorry, and I know he isn’t either.
“See, this is why I told you I don’t go out,” I force a bright smile to my face, laughing as I bump my shoulder into Ember’s.
She chuckles uncomfortably, her eyes bouncing between her husband and the man still on the ground. They jump to my face, Beckett’s, anywhere and everywhere possible.
“You’re always the life of the party, Will.” A slight tremor shakes her voice at the very end, giving away her concern.
“Let’s maybe move this party somewhere else before we do actually get kicked out,” Iris suggests, and we make our way back to the table, leaving the man where he fell. He’s somebody else's problem now.
I know he wants to talk to me. He wants to explain himself or rationalize his behavior. But there’s really no need. I’m not mad at him. I wish I could say this was the first time he’s interjected himself into my problems willingly, but it’s far from it. And I’m sure it won’t be thelast. For some reason I absolutely won’t acknowledge right now, that doesn’t bother me as much as it should. I should push him as far away as I can, even though that’s the last thing I want.
The night moves on without any more fireworks. The dance hall is alive with energy, the air thick with laughter and music. Groups move through the crowd, their faces lit with excitement, some talking animatedly, others swaying to the beat of the music. The sounds of chatter, clinking glasses, and the rhythm of the music blend together like a pulse that flows through the room.
A slow, sultry country song begins to play, and I watch my friends pair off with their partners until Beck and I are left alone at the table. I’m staring out at the crowd, but I know he’s staring straight at me. I can feel the heat of his gaze sliding across my skin. I shift uncomfortably on my stool, suddenly regretting the black crop top I’m wearing.
“Willow,” he says. His voice is quiet, but I swear it’s the only thing I can hear. My eyes meet his, and I swallow the gasp that always breaks free when he looks at me with so much intensity.
“Will you dance with me? I mean, it is my birthday after all.” He asks with a boyish grin on his face. I’m momentarily shocked. That’s definitely not what I expected him to say. I smile, stupidly telling myself it’s just a dance.
I nod, and he stands, offering me his hand andleading me out onto the floor. He spins me around effortlessly, pulling me back into his arms. He leads with the same confidence he carries in every aspect of his personality, like this is just where he’s supposed to be. His hand splays across my lower back, his fingers brushing the exposed skin where my shirt rides up. There’s no hiding the goosebumps that pepper my skin instantly.
I’ve never been so physically attracted to another person in my life as I’ve always been to Beckett. The music wraps around us like a warm embrace, each note resonating with the quiet tenderness we share in this moment. Our bodies move in sync, gliding across the floor as if we’ve danced together a thousand times before. The space between us feels both intimate and massive, the music filling the gaps. Everything around us seems to disappear until it’s just the two of us and the soft shuffle of our feet against the floor. In this moment we don’t need words to communicate. Each glance, each subtle movement, says everything I know we both feel.
Suddenly, it’s as if all the air has been sucked from the room. Sweat creeps down my spine, and I feel my breath come quicker and quicker. Without warning, the sense of dread that was lingering on the edge of my mind intensifies. My chest tightens, a heavy weight pressing down on it, making each breath feel shallow and labored. The air grows thicker, and the anxiety becomes a lead weight tied around my waist. My heartpounds against my ribs so hard I’m sure Beckett can hear it from the outside. My eyes go wide, and I know he sees the fear there.
“It’s okay, Will. I promise you’re safe.” His soft voice takes the edge off for only a moment before I fall back into the spiral of anxiety. I feel disconnected from my body, like I’m trapped in a whirlwind of panic, powerless to stop it. The world around me is closing in as the sounds become muffled, the lights suddenly too bright and hot.
My head spins, and I’m certain I’m going to pass out. Before I know what’s happening, strong hands push me through the crowd and out the closest door. The cool night air hits my sweat-soaked skin, bringing immediate relief.
“Deep breath,” he says, holding my back against his front and breathing deeply. “Just like me, pretty girl. Nice and slow.”
His chest expands against me, and I copy his slow, methodical movements.
In. Out.
In. Out.
