The Last Letter
: Chapter 18

Letter #4

Ella,

Your kids are awesome. Seriously. I guess laughing probably isn’t the right reaction to that story, but come on. That kid got his butt kicked by not just one but both of your kids. You’re raising a couple badasses. Sorry, but that’s actually the best word to describe them after that story.

As for kids of my own? Not sure that’s in the cards for me. Not because I don’t like kids. I honestly do. They’re brutally honest, which is a trait usually lost by adulthood. But, I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a dad, since I didn’t have one. Maybe that’s a good thing, since I don’t have a bad example of fatherhood, either, but really, the only examples of dads I have in my life came from television.

I’d be too scared I’d screw up a kid.

But if I knew what I was doing? Yeah, kids would be great. I’ve never been the guy with the toss-the-football fantasy, but I could definitely picture something like that. I honestly don’t think about it, or anything in the future, really. When you want something, or have a dream, you have something to lose. I’m not a fan of being put in the position to lose anything. Not to say that I’m not a little reckless, but only with myself and the things I can control.

It’s wanting something that gets you into trouble. Wanting makes you discontent, when I need to be grateful for what I do have. I learned that lesson young. I like to think it makes me a better person—being content with what I have—but I hear your brother talk about you, and your family, and I wonder sometimes if maybe that lack of want is really a small form of cowardice. In that way, you’re much braver than I am. You have the ability to love beyond yourself, to risk your heart every day through your kids.

I respect that as much as I envy it.

Also, tell Maisie the next time a guy comes after her, she needs to go for the nuts. Little bullies grow up to be big bullies.

~ Chaos

…

“He winked at me,” I told Hailey as I tried on the lavender dress. “Winked.”

I loved the man, was seconds away from sharing my kids with him, and he’d winked at me. Pretty sure I’d hovered on the edge of an orgasm from that alone. Since when did he turn on the charm? And where had that charm been the last four months?

Broody Beckett, I adored.

Protective, playful Beckett, I loved.

But that Beckett who winked and kissed my palm? Yeah, I was lucky I hadn’t spontaneously combusted and burned down my business.

“So you’ve told me about a dozen times since we left the house. A few times at the salon, at least once during pedicures, and six or seven times while we were getting waxed. Did you see the ‘these rooms are for the quiet relaxation of others’ sign? Pretty sure we’re never going to be allowed back at that spa.” She flipped through her phone.

“Whatever. I’ve just never seen that side of him. He was all…”

“Flirtatious?” she asked, looking up. “Ooh, I like that one. Your boobs look great.”

I ran my finger along the neckline. “It’s not too much?”

“Nope. It’s retro hot. You look like a fifties housewife who gets her kink on in the bedroom.”

I rolled my eyes but moved my hips so the bell of the knee-length dress swished lightly. I loved the halter neck, the sparkly belt that defined my waist, and even the slight plunge of the neckline. Mostly, I relished the feeling I had being in the dress, that I was a woman, curved and soft and freshly pampered.

“I think I’m going to get it.”

“Beckett is going to lose his fool mind.” She hopped up and walked around the dressing room pedestal, appraising the lines of the dress. “Yep. This is going to end up on the bedroom floor.”

“Sure it will. Mine.”

“Seriously?” Hailey popped a hip and shot me a more than exasperated look.

“He’s afraid that being more than…whatever we are, would potentially screw us in the long term, and with the kids involved, and the Ryan stuff…” I shrugged.

“So walk into his room naked. That’ll change his mind.”

“Are you out of your mind? Why would I do that? I’ve had sex with one guy, Hailey. One. And that was seven years ago. To tell you the truth, it didn’t exactly ring my bell.”

“Because he probably didn’t know where to replace your bell.”

I shook my head and smoothed the soft purple fabric beneath my newly manicured fingers. “It doesn’t matter. Beckett isn’t interested in me like that, and quite frankly, I shouldn’t even be having this discussion. I have bigger issues to worry about.”

I stepped off the podium and headed for the dressing room, leaving Hailey outside.

“He hasn’t slept with anyone since he’s been here, did you know that?” she asked through the slats in the door.

“What? How would you even know something like that?” I slipped off the dress and draped it on the hanger carefully.

“Because it’s a small town, nitwit. Everyone talks, and Beckett is very gossip-worthy. Speculation is he’s either gay or interested elsewhere…”

“I can tell you for certain he’s not gay.” I’d felt every delicious inch of him against me earlier, saw the way his muscles tensed when he pulled away.

“Duh. He’s not sleeping around because he wants you. Trust me, if I saw an opening there, I’d be all over that. I honestly don’t know how you haven’t just climbed on top of him and—”

“Because he told me no!” I flushed, thinking of our little failed moment on the couch. “Honestly. He told me no. His loyalty to Ryan trumps everything else.”

“Ella?”

“What?” I said, grabbing my shirt.

“You didn’t take the dress off, right? Because you’re supposed to meet him at the courthouse in like ten minutes.”

I grabbed my phone, swiping the screen to see the time. “Shit,” I muttered.

“Put these on, too.” She dropped a pair of black heels and a silver shrug over the door. “Come on, unless you want to be naked at the courthouse. And while, yes, I do think that would accomplish the sex mission, I do think it might interfere with the adoption mission.”

I dressed quickly and walked out of the dressing room.

“Turn,” Hailey ordered, and when I did so, she snapped the tag off the back, already holding a shoebox and another set of tags. “Come on!”

With an armful of my own clothes, we walked up to the register.

“She’s wearing all this.” Hailey dropped the tags and box on the counter.

The teenage boy looked me over and smiled. “I can see that.”

“But not for long,” Hailey added with a little wink.

Seriously, what’s with the winking today?

Hailey paid using Beckett’s credit card, and I felt that same flash of guilt I had at the salon. But I didn’t have time to focus on it as we raced for the courthouse.

Beckett stood outside in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair styled in sexy disarray. When he saw me, he smiled slow and wide, taking the time to drag his eyes from my polished toes to the soft waves of blond that fell to just beneath my breasts. He finally met my eyes and visibly swallowed.

“Wow.”

“Four thirty-one, and she’s all yours!” Hailey declared, handing Beckett his credit card.

“Thanks, Hailey.” He tucked the card inside his breast pocket.

“What do you say, Ella MacKenzie? Want to make me a dad?” He offered his arm, and my heart fluttered like the thousand butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach.

“You could definitely go for that later,” Hailey whispered as I walked by, but I just shot her a little glare and turned my attention to Beckett.

Then I forgot all about Hailey and took his arm.

He smelled incredible and, as he opened the door for me, I leaned in to take a deeper breath. It was like the guy rubbed himself in new leather and wind and really yummy things. Whatever it was, it absolutely worked for him.

We walked through the foyer, and I paused at the sweeping staircase.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone gentle.

“The last time I was in this courthouse, I walked out married to Jeff. And as wrong as that decision was, I can’t regret it, because it gave me the twins. It led me to this moment. To you.”

His grip tightened on my hand, and his attention flickered to my lips.

Kiss me.

“There you two are!” Mark called from the head of the stairs. “Let’s get this show started, shall we?”

“Shall we?” Beckett asked, his voice low and rough.

“Yes. Let’s.”

A half hour later, we walked out of the courthouse with a piece of paper that said Beckett was now Maisie and Colt’s father.

I knew it was only to protect Maisie, to give her the very best shot she had at beating the disease, but the moment we’d both signed, it felt more significant than a business transaction.

A tiny but undeniable flame of hope had flared in my heart that it wasn’t just on paper—it was real.

My kids were now Beckett’s, too.

And I was head over heels in love with him.

…

“I hate him!” I swore as I slammed my front door four hours later. Beckett’s headlights faded as he headed back to his cabin.

“Hate who?” Ada asked, coming out of the kitchen.

“Beckett is my guess,” Larry said from the mudroom floor, where he was repairing Maisie’s dollhouse.

“Yes, Beckett!” I snapped. “Oh, thanks, Larry. I really appreciate that.”

“Did the adoption not go well?” Ada asked quietly, pulling me into the office.

“No, it was great. The whole night was perfect! He took me to dinner and ordered wine, and then took me up the gondola to the Village for one of those little open-air concerts and danced with me. The man danced with me! And then he brought me home, walked me to the door, and hugged me. He hugged me good night.”

The worry fell right off her face, and she sighed with a soft smile. “Oh, Ella. You’ve gone and fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

“He hugged me!”

“Not that I blame you. He’s a good man; he really is. He’s spectacular with the kids, and kind, and dependable, and really easy to look at. Add in his knight-in-shining-armor complex, and you were bound to fall for him.” She took my hands.

“He hugged me,” I whispered.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing. He’s already made it clear that’s off the table, and I can’t blame him. I’m not exactly baggage free, you know. Two kids, one who is sick, a business to run, huge trust issues. I’m not really what someone like him would look for.”

“And what exactly is he like?”

“Pretty perfect.”

Ada sighed and dropped my hands. “Okay, well, you feel free to stay in here and pout. But just in case you feel like acting your age and doing something spontaneous, Larry and I are taking the guest room for the night. So we’ll be here. All night. And into the morning. You know…just in case.”

“I do act my age.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t, and you never have. You’re not old, not damaged, not a dried-up spinster. You’re twenty-five. So yeah. I’m going to bed.”

I stood in my office, unwilling to move but also unready to take off my heels. That felt a little too much like defeat.

YOU ARE ENOUGH.

I stared at Chaos’s words, chanting them in my head. He was right. I was enough, and I was done being a passive participant in whatever my relationship was with Beckett.

Glancing at Maisie’s handmade diploma, my eyes lingered on Beckett’s choppy handwriting. What was it with military guys and their worse-than-doctor handwriting? His was just as bad as Chaos’s, and that was saying something.

I’d lost Chaos before I could act on my feelings, and I wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Beckett.

I left my office, snatched my keys off the entry table, and walked out. I could have sworn I heard an “attagirl,” coming from the guest room window as I climbed into my car, but when I looked back, the room was dark.

“You are enough,” I mumbled to myself the entire time I drove to Beckett’s cabin. His lights were on, so at least I wasn’t waking the man up. I parked the car, and then I swallowed back the slight taste of panic that flooded my mouth, straightening my back as I walked up his steps.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I set my knuckles to the door before I could chicken out, but in the precious seconds it took for Beckett to answer, I started to grow some very chicken-like feathers around my heart.

“Ella?” he answered, flinging the door open wide. He was still in his suit, but he’d loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button at his throat, revealing a small section of skin that I was suddenly desperate to kiss. “Is everything okay? Is it Maisie?”

“Maisie’s fine,” I told him, both annoyed and loving him more because he thought of her first.

“Oh good. What’s going on? Come on in.” He stepped aside, and I walked into the cabin, heading down the hallway. Where before it had been cold and impersonal, now it had pictures that Colt and Maisie had drawn hanging in various places, like those I found myself staring at on his fridge as I wandered into the kitchen. He’d adapted his “neat and orderly” and let us “complicate” the very space he lived in. Silly, but the pictures calmed a tiny bit of my rampant fear that Beckett would disappear one day.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked slowly.

“No.” I spun around to replace him leaned back against the counter. He’d ditched the suit coat on our walk in. “You took me on a date.”

“Yes.” He gave me a sexy little smile as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, and I wanted to kick him.

“You took me on a date. Dinner, dancing, romantic little walk. Then you took me to my door and hugged me. Like I’m your sister.” I stalked forward, and his expression changed, a look of hunger flashing before he got it under control.

“I did. Guilty on all counts.”

“I’m not your sister, Beckett.”

“I’ve noticed.” He sucked in a deep breath and put his hands on the counter, his knuckles turning instantly white.

I brought myself flush against him, nearly groaning at the press of his hard muscles under my fingers as I rested my hands on his chest.

“Well, maybe dates have changed in the last seven or so years, but in my limited experience, they end with a kiss.” I rose up on my tiptoes until my mouth hovered just under his.

“Ella.” He said my name like a plea, but for what? To give us what we both wanted? For me to back away and leave him to sleep with his honor?

“Tell me what you want. Because I want to kiss you. Even if it’s just this once.” I closed the tiny gap between our mouths and brushed my lips over his. How could a man that hard have such soft lips?

His body turned to stone against mine, every muscle locked. Under my fingertips, his heart started to pound.

Growing bolder, I kissed him softly, lingering on his bottom lip. Then I retreated just enough to look into his eyes. The rest of him might be a statue, but those eyes said everything he wouldn’t, and he was a second away from—

His mouth slammed against mine, and the rest of him came alive. One of his hands tunneled through the back of my hair while the other wrapped around my waist and tugged me even closer.

I opened under him, and his tongue swept inside, taking, consuming, learning every line of my mouth. A moan slipped from my lips, and I buried my hands in his hair, tugging gently at the short strands.

Then I kissed him back like I’d been dreaming about for months.

Our mouths tangled, the kiss tasting sweet, like the wine we’d finished after our dance, and just as intoxicating. He sucked my tongue into his mouth, and I eagerly rubbed against his, stroking and caressing. Good God, the man knew what he was doing.

My entire world existed in this kiss, in the feel of Beckett’s arms around me.

He switched the tempo, gently sucking at my bottom lip before tilting his head and kissing me deeper until I became nothing but need. Heat rushed through my veins, bringing me to life, a euphoric variation of the tingles in my limbs after they’d fallen asleep and were brought back to feeling.

“God, Ella,” he groaned, his fingers tight in my hair.

“Yes,” I urged, loving everything about this. He curved his body over mine, then lifted me by my ass and spun, setting me on the counter. Then he used both hands to hold my head and kissed me until I couldn’t remember my own name—only that I belonged to him.

My fingers ran along his neck, until I had ahold of his tie from underneath, curling my fingers through the space where he’d loosened the knot.

“I could kiss you forever,” he said against my mouth.

“I’m okay with that.”

He smiled, and I couldn’t help but mirror it. Everything about this felt so incredibly right. He brushed back a strand of my hair from my face with a tenderness that made my heart lurch, like it was reaching for him. I love this man. That thought alone sent my need up a notch, until I was aching and restless.

My sex drive the last seven years had been a broken circuit, and suddenly the lights were coming back on, as Beckett flipped switch after switch.

Kissing me again, he slid his arms around me, and when he pulled me to the edge of the counter, I parted my thighs, bringing us together from lips, to chest, to hips. There was an edge to the kiss now, a rough desperation that could only be the result of the desire we’d both kept tightly leashed the last few months.

I cursed the layers of fabric between us, wishing I’d chosen a shorter, less fluffy skirt. He broke our kiss, and I gasped, sucking in some much-needed air when he put his mouth to my neck. Holy shit.

“Beckett,” I whimpered, letting my head roll back and giving him unfettered access to whatever parts of me he wanted. They were all his.

He supported my arched back with one hand and flicked open the lone button of my shrug with the other, never pausing in his assault on my neck. He rained long, openmouthed kisses down my neck, over my collarbone, and down to my neckline.

My heels hit the hardwood floor as I kicked them off, locking my ankles around his waist to bring him harder against me.

That earned me another groan from his lips. Leaning back, I braced my hands on the cool granite, so at odds with the heat of my skin. He ran his hands over the sides of my breasts, to my waist, down over my dress-covered thighs, until he reached the bare skin of my knees.

I’d never been so glad I refused panty hose in my entire life.

Strong hands slid beneath my dress, running up the sides of my legs. His skin was rough and calloused, yet his touch gentle but for the press of his fingers when he squeezed at the top of my thighs. I had the insane urge to ask him to tighten his grip, to leave some kind of mark that would tell me tomorrow that this had really happened—it wasn’t all a dream.

He kissed me, taking my mouth in a rhythm that made my hips arch into him, wishing his hands would move. I’d never been kissed with such expertise or care, never felt my blood rise to a fever pitch like this. It was utter, complete, delicious madness.

His thumbs stroked down the line of my inner thighs, brushing the edge of my panties, and I felt the sensation everywhere. In my core, my belly, the tips of my breasts. That simple motion caressed my heartbeat and sent it skyrocketing.

“More,” I begged, squeezing my thighs around him, needing the pressure to ease the ache, even if just a little.

Like I’d bitten him, he released my thighs and stepped back, my shock loosening my grip enough that he broke the lock on my ankles.

“Okay, that’s the opposite of more,” I said, my words as choppy as my breath.

He leaned back against the other counter, his chest rising and falling just as rapidly as mine. At least I wasn’t the only one affected by that kiss. He looked flat-out tortured and a little angry as he ripped his tie loose.

Damn, that was sexy.

He closed his eyes as his hands tugged at his hair. He was the very picture of an intensely aroused man who couldn’t get a grip on his control, and maybe I was mean, but I loved knowing I’d put him there.

“Beckett.”

“No.” He shook his head as he opened his eyes. The way his gaze raked over me, my dress barely covering my still-spread thighs, was intense enough to send another wave of pure lust through my system. “Not like this.”

A quick cut of fear slid down my sternum. Had the kiss not been the same gravity-bending event for him that it had been for me?

“You’d prefer to wait another four months to make out? Because this is us, Beckett. I’m always going to be Ryan’s sister. I’m always going to want you, and if the way you just kissed me is any indication, you want me just as badly.”

“I always knew it would be like this between us. From the moment I set eyes on you, I knew the minute my hands…” He caught the side of his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, then gripped the counter.

“Your hands what?” I taunted, sitting up straight and giving my arms a rest.

“I knew the minute I got my hands on you, it would take a miracle for me to stop long enough to get a rational thought in my head. Touching you… God, Ella, if you had any idea how badly I want you, you would not still be sitting on my counter looking at me like that.”

“Maybe I do know.” I ran my tongue over my lower lip. “Maybe I feel the same exact way. And rational thoughts are overrated.”

“Think this through.”

“Why? Maybe I want to be reckless for once. Maybe I like the way you take every rational thought out of my head. Maybe that’s exactly why I need this—need you.” The ache centered between my thighs had me shifting my hips. Sex had never been something I sought out, or a big fireworks show, but I never remembered it starting with this torturous, clawing need, either.

“I’m really trying here.”

Trying my patience.

The sting of rejection was sharp. I brought my knees together and buttoned my shrug with trembling hands. “I don’t get you. I tell you I want you to kiss me, and you jump across the couch. I shave my legs and put on a dress, and you hug me good night. I throw myself at you, and you kiss me like I’m the only woman in the world, and now you’re over there. Beckett, I can’t make my wants any clearer, and I can’t be the one who always has to chase you. If you want me physically, but don’t want me, then say it. Because I’m done listening to you tell me no like there’s something wrong with me.”

He had the nerve to look wounded, like his constant arm’s-length approach to our physical nearness was more painful to him than it was to me. Like I wasn’t the one constantly trying to push our relationship out of the friend zone.

“Do you see me as a sister? Is that it?”

“Hell no!” He sighed. “And now I’ve sworn at you twice.”

“I really don’t mind. You could throw in an F-bomb if it meant you were interested in using it as a verb.” I put my hands on the counter and prepared to jump down, replace my shoes and my dignity, and take my sexually frustrated butt home.

“Look at me.” His voice had taken on that gravelly tone that I loved.

I brought my eyes to his, wishing I could understand what the hell the man was thinking about. What kept him from taking what I knew—or at least really hoped—he wanted. “What are you thinking?” I broke down and asked.

“I’m counting how many glasses of wine you had. Two at dinner. One after the concert, and it’s been what? Five hours?” His eyes narrowed in thought.

“I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re implying! Like I need alcohol as an excuse—”

“Oh no,” he cut me off, dropping his voice even lower. “I’m not asking for you. I’m asking for me, so that I know when I ask this next question, you’re not too drunk to answer it.”

My tongue wet my suddenly dry lips. “Okay.”

“Do you want me, Ella?”

“I think I’ve been pretty clear that I do.”

He shook his head. “No. I didn’t say ‘do you want to make out with me?’ Do you want me? Because I’m standing here, trying to keep my hands on the counter so I don’t send them up your dress to the insides of your thighs.”

My lips parted, too heavy to stay closed.

“Because I know once they’re stroking over that soft skin, there’s no way I’m going to be able to breathe without taking you, sliding inside you like I’ve fantasized about for entirely too long.” He enunciated that last bit, driving home exactly what he wanted to happen in case I hadn’t gotten the picture.

That was exactly what I wanted, craved…needed more than the very breath he was talking about.

“And once that happens, everything changes between us, Ella. So I need you to tell me that you want me, or walk out that door before something happens that you’re not ready for.”

I couldn’t remember being more ready for anything in my life.

“I.” I opened the button of my shrug. “Want.” I took it off. “You.” I dropped it to the floor.

“Ella.” He pushed off the counter.

“Here and now,” I added, unfastening the button of the halter behind my neck, just in case the man needed my consent—hell, my plea—on record. The straps fluttered to my sides, the curves of my breasts holding the neckline in place.

“Thank you, God.” He didn’t bother with the buttons on his shirt, just reached over the back of his head and pulled it off in that incredibly sexy way guys had. But Beckett made it about a hundred times sexier as his torso was revealed.

All rippling muscles and kissable skin. Pretty sure I could orgasm just looking at him. Not that I’d ever had that happen without a little battery-powered assistance, but if there ever was a moment, this was it.

“You are so…” I waved my hands in his direction. “All that is just… I don’t have words.”

“Good,” he said, dropping his shirt to the floor. “Because I’m going to need to use that mouth for other things besides talking.” He closed the distance between us in two strides, took my knees in his hands, and parted my thighs. Then he made good on his promise, sending his hands up my dress until they reached the tops of my thighs, only to grip, then pull us flush.

I locked my arms around his neck when he kissed me. It was deep, powerful, and primal, his mouth taking mine like he was staking a claim. Unleashed, Beckett kissed with a little less finesse and a lot more urgency. My body responded, tightening my breasts and rushing heat over my skin.

I gasped against his mouth as his thumb slid beneath the edge of my panties, and my nails bit into his scalp lightly when he parted me and grazed my clit.

“Beckett,” I pleaded, pushing my hips toward him in reflex.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. Then he kissed me slowly, his tongue sliding with mine as his thumb worked me over, swirling, stroking, and pressing, turning that warmth in my belly into a knot of tension that he wound tighter and tighter.

I moved restlessly, my need to feel his skin against mine warring with my equal need to keep his hands exactly where they were. As if he sensed my thoughts, his unoccupied hand skimmed up over my waist to my back, where he unzipped my dress.

The fabric gave way easily, baring my strapless bra. I arched, pressing my breasts against his chest, and he pressed his thumb against my clit, sending bolts of pleasure through me, sweet and sharp at the same time.

Stilling his thumb, he did some form of witchcraft behind my back that unsnapped my bra, freeing my breasts as it fell to my lap. He broke our kiss to look down at me, reverently cupping a breast and running his fingers over my hardened nipple.

“Perfect,” he said before dipping his head to take it into his mouth. Moving his thumb at the same time, I arched my back and cried out.

It felt so damn good.

I threw my hands behind me to catch my weight and gave myself over to his mouth and fingers. That tension in me spiraled tighter until I was wound impossibly tight, my muscles locking in what I hoped might be my first—

“Beckett!” I screamed his name when he pressed my clit in a deep stroke, sending my body into full meltdown as my orgasm took me over the edge, the release coming in powerful waves that tilted the earth’s axis.

He kissed me down with light, sipping caresses of his lips against mine. Until I summoned the strength to open my eyes and found him watching me, a look of utter adoration on his face.

“I could watch you do that a million times and still want more.”

“That was…” What was it about this man that stole all my words and turned me into a half-sentence-producing moron? “Good job.”

He grinned. “Good job?”

Oh God, I’d just verbally high-fived the guy.

“Well, yeah. I’ve never…without…well, with someone.”

His eyes widened in understanding. “There’s so much more.”

“Yeah, I like that plan.” Before I could say something else ridiculous, I kissed him, running my hands down his back. His skin was firm, warm, and so very soft. When I reached his belt, I skimmed my fingers along his waistline, savoring the way his abs flexed, and he sucked in a breath between kisses.

When I got to his zipper, I grew bold and took his erection in my hand and lightly gripped him. He was as hard as the granite beneath me, long, thick, and—if it was anything like the rest of his body—no doubt perfect.

His indrawn breath turned into a full-on hiss of air between his gritted teeth.

“Ella…”

I simply looked at him, letting him see how badly I wanted him, this, us. All of it.

Instead of stopping me, he simply nodded and shut his eyes for the few seconds I had of stroking up and down his length.

“God, baby,” he whispered.

He gave me one more chance to stroke, and then took my hand away, putting it on the counter. Before I could complain, he took his wallet out of his back pocket, slapping it on the counter next to me.

Then—thank you, all that is good and right in the world—he unsnapped his pants, kicking off his shoes and stripping down to nothing so quickly that all I could do was watch in appreciation.

The man was straight-up perfection, and all mine for the touching.

My mouth watering, I ran my fingers from his pecs down the lines of his abs, taking the time to fall from one ridge to the next. He wasn’t just defined, he was built, his muscles bulging down his stomach.

He stepped forward, between my thighs, and kissed me until I couldn’t think of anything except the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of his breath. He lifted me slightly, adjusting my dress so my butt hit the granite, then slid the fabric over my head, leaving me in nothing but my blue silk panties.

Then he locked eyes with me, hooked his thumbs in the straps, and dragged them down my legs and off. There was no time to be embarrassed, not when he was kissing me, skin to skin. The contact heightened everything, and our hands were quickly everywhere—touching, seeking, discovering each other.

When he slipped his hands between my thighs, that familiar pressure built again, the ache within me beginning to pulse.

“So beautifully wet,” he said between kisses.

Then he slid a finger inside me, and I almost came off the counter. “That feels incredible.” I rocked against his finger, and he added another, the stretch making that ache throb.

He flipped open his wallet with his free hand, sliding a foil packet free.

“Upstairs?” he asked.

“Here. Now. No more waiting.” Nearly mindless over the steady, deep strokes of his fingers, I grabbed the condom and ripped it open. My hands shook as I brought it to the head of his erection. I’d been right, even that was perfect.

“I don’t know— Oh God, Beckett!” He’d added a third finger while his thumb gently grazed my hypersensitive clit.

“Need help?”

“Yes. No experience with…” I groaned when he curled his fingers, replaceing that elusive spot inside me that had my hips moving to ride his hand. “These. Pregnant at eighteen, remember?”

He covered my hand with his, pushing us down his length slowly until he was covered. “That may have been the most erotic thing I’ve done in my life,” I whispered.

“Me, too. You take everything in my life up a notch.”

His mouth met mine in a long, carnal kiss that ended with him gently tugging at my bottom lip. His fingers slid free of me, and I tensed as he leveled his hips with mine.

“Nervous?” he asked, kissing the spot just beneath my ear.

“A little. It’s been seven years since I’ve done this.”

He took my face in his hands and kissed me softly. “Pretty sure it still works the same way.”

I smiled and instantly relaxed with another kiss.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said again, and the words took my nervousness like it never existed.

As if he wasn’t positioned between my thighs, he took my mouth with care and, within a few moments, I had my ankles locked around his waist, savoring the contrast of his hard frame with my curves. He stroked down my body, bringing that fire back even hotter than it had been.

When my hips started rocking against his fingers he leaned his forehead against mine. And when that ache roared, and I reached for his hips, he gripped mine, nudging his erection at my entrance.

“Please,” I said, arching against him.

Keeping one hand on my hip, he gripped the back of my head with the other and brought us so close our breaths mingled, but he didn’t kiss me, simply watched my eyes as he pushed inside me inch by slow inch.

I let out a soft moan as he seated himself, so deep that I could feel him throughout my body, as if he’d pierced my soul.

“Ella,” he groaned. “God, you’re everything.”

He shifted the hand on my hip to under my ass, lifting me slightly and pulling me to the barest edge of the counter before he began to thrust in a deep, sure rhythm. Our bodies moved like we’d been making love together for years instead of moments, like he was the only man I’d been created for.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding the back of his head as he took me higher and higher, each stroke bringing that tension to the breaking point, until our bodies were slick with sweat.

He didn’t change his pace, just took me over and over like it would last forever, like there was no goal other than feeling that moment. There were no alarm clocks, no schedules, nowhere more pressing to be than right here in the arms of the man I loved.

My muscles locked, straining for release, and Beckett kissed me, at the same time sliding his thumb between us to stroke my clit. I came apart, crying out as the orgasm washed over me, deeper and harder than I’d ever felt in my life. He took my cries into his mouth, like he was feeding off my pleasure, like it was more than sex to him, too.

I held him close, emotion taking me beyond reason.

“I love you.” The words tumbled from my mouth without preamble or thought.

He paused, his eyes flying wide. Then he kissed me deep and hard as he thrust wildly, without rhythm, tensing in my arms and letting go, burying his face in my neck as he found his release, my name on his lips.

Before I could feel awkward, he pulled back, taking my face in his hands. Our breathing was erratic, and his slowed before mine did. “I love you,” he said, keeping his eyes locked with mine.

“Really?” It was almost too much to hope, to have that kind of happiness.

“I’ve loved you since the beginning. Nice to know you caught up.”

My smile was instant and matched his.

“Now, how long do we have? Because I’d like to take you upstairs and do this again properly.”

If that wasn’t proper, I couldn’t wait to see what was.

“All night. We have all night.”

“I can work with that.”

And he did.

Another three times before breakfast.