Hopeless, p.25
Hopeless, page 25
I wait for him to say something.
But he doesn’t.
“Did you forget what you wanted to say, Beau? Because I think I can’t do this anymore sums things up, don’t you?” I spit the words out, steeling myself. Trying to inflict pain. Though I think repeating his words out loud hurts me more than anyone.
His hands tighten on my body, gripping me as he pushes his knee between my legs, pinning me in place. Tears stream down my cheeks, clumping my eyelashes, and my chest aches so heavy and deep that simply breathing hurts.
The hand on my waist moves up, wiping away another tear before pushing back a lock of my carefully styled hair. “What I meant to say, Bailey … ” He emphasizes my name in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand cups my head so I can’t look anywhere but straight at him. “What I meant to say is … will you go out with me?”
Everything around me comes to a screeching halt. Not only is the sentence juvenile, but it’s also just plain confusing.
“You just broke up with me.”
A boyish smile curves his sinful lips. He kisses my temple and goes back to staring me down. “If you had let me finish, I’d have told you I couldn’t keep doing it anymore because pretending this thing between us is fake is fucking killing me.”
“What?”
God, that’s what I blurt out? What?
“The only reason you got this far is because I went back into the house for the ring.”
He reaches down and pulls the teardrop-shaped diamond from his pocket, holding it between us.
“I’m done pretending to be head over heels in love with you because I’m legitimately head over heels in love with you. And acting like I’m not tears me up.”
I grip his wrists, squeezing so I can assure myself that he’s real. That this moment is real. Because it feels distinctly unbelievable.
“Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe this is impulsive. Maybe you don’t love me back. But I’ll wait. I don’t care. I’ll take my time with you. So long as I know you’re really mine, I can be patient.”
“Beau … ” My chest heaves as my brain struggles to catch up.
He doesn’t give me a chance to say any more before he’s pulling my hand down and sliding the engagement ring back onto my finger. “This belongs here,” he murmurs.
“Maybe we should just date for a bit?” God, I’m not firing on all cylinders right now. I should tell him I love him back. I should kiss him.
“Call it whatever you want, sugar. But the ring stays here.”
We both stare at the diamond, the back porch lights flitting off every brilliant facet. Our breaths come out ragged. We’re both amped up. Confused, excited, frustrated.
“Feels like bad luck to wear it when we’re not really engaged.”
“We are really engaged.” His response leaves no room for debate.
“I mean, if we’re taking our time, testing this thing out for real, you probably shouldn’t waltz around pretending you intend to marry me when you don’t.”
I swear he growls at my response. A deep rumble in his chest. A narrowing of his eyes. The vein at his temple throbs.
I hate myself. Why am I arguing with him and poking holes in his logic when this should be a dream come true?
It’s because it doesn’t feel real. Good things like this don’t happen to Bailey Jansen. Not with men like him.
“Stop thinking what you’re thinking. Stop pretending this isn’t real.” He bends slightly and lifts me, picking me up easily and carrying me back toward the house. “Stop telling me what I intend to do,” he whispers against my ear. “Because I do intend to marry you. And I want you to wear that fucking ring while I show you that it’s true.”
Then he kicks the door open. Marches me up the stairs to his room. Drops me to my feet at the foot of his bed, and says, “Strip.”
34
Beau
Bailey’s eyes have widened to unbelievable size, and her lips pop open as she stares back at me. Shocked? Confused? I’m not sure, but I can tell the events of tonight have thrown her for a loop.
“Was there a part of that order you didn’t understand, Bailey?”
I step closer to her, chin tipping down to keep my gaze fixed on hers. Her tongue darts out over her bottom lip and my eyes follow it hungrily.
“Okay. So, let me get this straight.”
I nod, biting down on a smirk. She’s having a hard time accepting this. In hindsight, I should have started this conversation differently.
“We’re not faking anymore.”
“That’s right.”
“Because we both want this?”
“It seems that way.” A deep chuckle rumbles in my chest as I watch her work it out in those coal-black eyes. A darkness I actually want to get lost in.
“How do we do this? Like, we just carry on? I … ” One of her hands grips her throat. “Beau, I have all these plans.”
I skim a hand up and down her rib cage. “We’ll work it out. We don’t have to have all the answers right this second.”
She nibbles at her lip. “I’m your real fiancée now?”
“Yes.”
She slowly nods her head, understanding flaring to life in her eyes. And then … something more playful?
Her head tilts, her arms cross, and her mouth takes on a teasing curve. “What if I told you I don’t want to be engaged to you?”
I drop my lips closer drawn in by the heat from her skin. We breathe each other’s breath. “Then I’d call you a fucking liar, sugar.”
I kiss her. I don’t give her a chance to run her smart mouth and test my patience with bratty jokes. I take her mouth to shut her up and to claim her.
Her hands fist my shirt and our tongues tangle as my fingers thread through the silky locks of her hair. This kiss feels different. Better. Less tentative and more desperate.
“You’re insane,” she mutters against my lips between kisses, and she’s probably not wrong. But I’m past caring about the way I’m perceived.
I pull back, dotting kisses over her cheeks. Over her nose.
And I confess my truth to her.
“I’ve been doing impulsive shit, hoping one of those things might make me feel something. And not a single one of them did. Until you. So if this thing with you makes me insane? I’ll be happy to wear that badge.”
When our eyes meet, all I see is longing and pride. No pity, no uncertainty. We both know this is right. It just felt too unlikely to say out loud.
“Do you really love me?”
Do I love her? God. What a pedestrian question, one that feels like it doesn’t encompass all the feelings I have for her. It doesn’t seem like enough. But I’ll keep telling her, keep showing her, until I figure out better words to describe the way I feel about her.
“Bailey Jansen, I love you,” I murmur as our faces dance close to one another, exchanging soft kisses. We’re in this kind of lull. Standing on a precipice, ready to topple over the edge.
“How do you know?”
I kiss just below her ear, reveling in the way she tilts her head. My lips move down to her neck. “I just do.” I kiss her shoulder, right beside the tied strap.
“I don’t think anyone has ever loved me.”
I freeze. The pain in my chest is sharp, instant, acute.
She says it like it’s a fact.
I’ve seen a lot of sad shit in my life, but none of it has wounded me the way that one sentence just did. I don’t know what to say. What is a person supposed to say to that? Are words enough?
It strikes me that they’re not.
A boy might stand here waiting for her to say it back, but I don’t need that validation. Bailey might not know what love is, but I do.
Love is telling me I’m acting like an asshole when no one else will.
Love is taking me shopping to find shoes that don’t rub my feet raw.
It’s waking up every goddamn night for weeks to swim in the river with me, so I don’t have a nightmare.
Bailey doesn’t need flowery words.
Bailey needs proof.
I lift my head, getting lost in the inky depths of her irises. “Then let me be the first to do that too.”
She nods and my fingers curl around the soft cotton. I slowly lift it, dragging it up her body. Her arms raise without resistance as I discard the shirt, leaving her standing before me in a pale pink strapless bra. My hands roam as I take her in, continuing down her back where I unfasten the hooks and let her bra fall away too.
When I drop to my knees in front of her, her hands sink into my hair. Combing. Stroking.
I take my time. It feels a bit like unwrapping a present. But not the way I did as a child, shredding and tearing until I got to what was underneath. No, this is me carefully peeling the tape back, smoothing every crease.
Her button. Her zipper. Her jeans. All gently pulled away until it’s just a smooth expanse of skin and a pale pink thong.
I look up at her, meeting her gaze, as my hands slide over her hips, cupping the firm globes of her ass. “I love you.”
“Okay,” she whispers, like she still can’t quite believe it. And that’s fine with me. I like a challenge.
“Should I keep going?”
Her nod is fast, slightly frantic. “Yes. Please.”
My lips quirk as I work her underwear down her thighs. She’s still. Too still. “I like it when you’re so sweet and polite, Bailey.”
A nervous laugh tumbles from her lips, and she breathes again. “Fuck you, Beau.”
My cheek twitches. There’s the girl I know.
With her panties around her ankles, I glance up at her, giving her my wickedest grin to cut the tension. “That’s exactly what you’re going to be doing once I finish eating this pretty pussy.”
35
Bailey
I’m pretty sure this is a dream and someone will shake me awake at any moment.
But when Beau licks up my slit, tongue flicking hard at my clit, my back bows off the bed and I know this isn’t a dream.
Because I always wake up from sex dreams right when it’s finally getting good.
And that was really fucking good. I make some sort of uncontrolled mewling noise and my body trembles against my will.
“You like that, baby?” Beau asks as he drapes my thighs over his shoulders.
Then he does the same thing again. Slow and purposeful, the pressure is just right.
I attempt to stifle another desperate sound coming from the back of my throat, but fail. “Yes,” I try to reply, but the word is all garbled.
I feel the rumble of his deep, amused chuckle against my core. The noise I make is something wilder than a whimper—this man knows exactly how to handle me.
He devours me. My legs wrap around his shoulders and eventually work their way up to the back of his head, tugging him closer. His strong arms wrap around my thighs, big hands splayed, holding me open so he can feast on me.
“Am I the first to do this to you?”
I nod, tugging at his hair. Mindless for this man. “Yes.”
“I’m going to be the only one to do this to you, Bailey. Mark my words.”
My head spins. He’s so fucking sure. I don’t know what to make of his confidence. How to cope with it. In my world, nothing lasts forever, and love isn’t even on the table.
Beau gives me so much. I worry I’ll never be able to repay him.
He slides a finger into me, working my body in time with his mouth. My back arches and my palms fly up to my face, gliding back over my hair.
“Should I add another finger, Bailey? Get you nice and ready to take my cock?”
“Yesss.” I moan the word right as I tug at my own hair.
He does exactly as he promised, slow and steady, sucking at my clit as his hand moves faster. Harder. My body shakes as he works me over—squeezing my ass, fingers curling into me, devilish tongue flicking.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I curse. All my hard-won attempts at being a “lady” fly out the window with this man’s head between my legs. “Beau, I’m going to—”
“Come for me, baby.” He pulls back, watching his fingers pump in and out of me. “Let me see it.”
His intimate gaze, his husky words, and his thumb reaching up to rub my clit cause me to shatter. He grips me like a vise, two fingers pushing at that magical spot deep inside me as I call his name. My body is suffused with heat. The backs of my calves cramp. Every muscle braces, clenching on him, before releasing every ounce of pressure. Rocking me to my core.
And Beau never stops. Watching. Touching. Admiring his handiwork.
“Yeah, I’ll never tire of this view,” he says gruffly, as my limbs go soft.
All I can do is concentrate on breathing, getting my vision back into focus. His fingers leave my body, accompanied by a wet sound. My eyes shut, a trickle of embarrassment finding its way in.
“What was that, Bailey?” he asks, and I feel the bed sink under the weight of him. His knees brace on either side of my naked body.
My eyes flip open to meet his. “Nothing.”
“Do you know how fucking beautiful you look, coming with my name on your lips?”
“No,” I reply honestly, and he just smiles.
“What about how good you taste? Do you know how fucking good you taste?”
I shake my head, my body thrumming just from the rumble of his deep voice in the dim room.
He smirks, full of promise and knowing, and the fingers that were just inside me trace my lips. “Suck, Bailey.”
“Your cock?” My eyes widen with excitement.
“We can save that for another day. I’ll be happy to let you practice. But for now … ” His two fingers tap against my lips and my mouth pops open.
He slides his fingers onto my tongue, and my lips close around them. My eyes lock with his as the taste of what he did to me fills my mouth. “Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs, pulling them back out with a pop. “And if I ever see you looking embarrassed about yourself again, I’ll leave another mark on your neck to wear around town.”
Then he kisses me. Hard. And I taste myself there too. I taste him, that signature scent.
I taste us.
In the blink of an eye, he flips us and pulls me up the bed with him so I’m straddling him. He leans against the headboard, looking like some sort of king. Tousled and golden and impossibly broad.
“Undress me, Bailey.” He doesn’t blanch or blink away when he tells me what to do. His eyes burn hotter, and I want nothing more than to burn with him too. To rise to his challenge and not crumple under the weight of my inexperience.
So with a soft nod, I reach down and grasp his shirt, tugging slowly at first, then more frantically. He leans forward and lifts his arms to help me. I toss it away, and it’s just my hands on his skin. Roaming. Memorizing him in a way I haven’t been able to until now.
Warm, smooth skin beneath my palms. Thick bulges over his pectoral muscles. Tight nipples. I pinch one and peek up at him. His eyes blaze and he gives me a reassuring nod.
So I pinch again. This time both, noting the sharp intake of breath that follows. My hips grind down in response and his buck up to meet me.
God. I can’t believe I’m really here, doing this with him.
To cover for the way my hands shake, I keep moving them, roaming down his toned abdomen. A thin scar mars one of his perfect abs.
I trail a finger over its length and whisper, “What’s this from?”
“Got shivved.”
My gaze snaps up. “What?”
“Let my guard down that day, getting one of my first targets into custody. Learned a valuable lesson. Never letting that happen again.”
I smile softly, feeling the raised skin again. “Don’t think you’re much at risk of getting shivved in Chestnut Springs.”
His broad palms slide up my thighs, my ribs, over my shoulders until he frames my face with them and pushes my hair back behind my ears. “Still not letting my guard down. Not when I’ve got you to keep safe.”
A shiver races down my spine as I stare back at him. All I can offer is a nod.
I don’t think anyone has ever prioritized keeping me safe.
The weight of his gaze is almost more than I can manage, so I drop it and go back to touching him. My fingertips travel the light dusting of hair along the top of his shorts. I pull at the waistline, then tug harder, wanting them off. Gone. Wanting to explore.
Wanting his skin on mine.
Between the two of us, they get tugged down, slid off his legs, and forgotten.
Forgotten because all I can see is the massive cock laid across his masculine stomach. I take in everything. Muscled thighs. Heavy balls. The vein that runs up the underside of his length, pulsing.
I mean, yeah, I’ve watched porn, but it’s not the same. It’s like watching the National Geographic channel and saying you’ve seen a lion in the wild.
One of these things is not like the other.
I kneel beside him, and my tongue darts out.
“Keep looking at my dick like that while licking your lips and I’ll be in your mouth instead of your pussy.”
I flush, eyes flashing up to his. “I want both.”
“You’ll always get everything you want. I promise.” The need, the want, the lust radiating between us are downright electric. “Take it.”
My eyes widen, brain stumbling through the fog of my hormones. “Take what?”
His tanned hand reaches down, wrapping around his girth. He jerks once, then twice. It reminds me of watching him come on me, marking me while I fell apart under his watchful gaze.
“Take my cock and put it in your mouth. Get it nice and wet for me, Bailey.”
I lick my lips again as I glance down at his penis. The darker head looks so smooth.
“Fuck,” he mutters, fingers gripping the base of it tightly as a pearl of pre-cum forms at the tip. “Bailey if you don—”
He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. I’m salivating for him. I lean forward, wrapping my hand around him for a taste.
I want to know how it feels to hold that part of him in my mouth. To see how he might react.
