I put my hand over his on the bottle. “Thank you.” I focus on the way my hand looks with his. “No one’s ever said that to me before. Not the way you just did, anyway.” I slide the bottle out of his grasp and take a swig, setting it down between us. “Your laugh makes me want to take my clothes off.” I look away, clamping my eyes shut, shocked at myself.
His hand covers mine on the bottle. “That’s the greatest fucking thing anyone’s ever said to me.” He slips the bottle from my grip and I hear the liquid slosh as he drinks, then a thunk when he sets it back on the table. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I don’t let my gaze go any higher than my hand over his hand around the bottle. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” It’s my turn to drink. I tilt my head back and take a big, long gulp. I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth and set the bottle between us again. I still can’t meet his gaze. “I wish I was enough for you.”
There’s a knock at the door. Beau jumps up from the table and answers it. He sets the pizza and soda on the table, pays, and closes the door. When he doesn’t take his seat right away, I turn to look up at him. He’s studying the carpet in the corner, his hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans. I went too far with a game we never should’ve started.
Opening the pizza, I try to change the mood and make him forget the stupid thing I said. “Mmm, this looks good. Come and eat.” I busy myself with dividing up the napkins and pouring the soda.
He eases into the seat across from me. His serious face is back, the one heavy with regret. I hate that face.
“Don’t say anything,” I tell him. “Just eat.”
He grabs a slice with everything and bites into it. The only sounds are the traffic outside and us eating. The booze is wearing off too soon. I eye the bottle and then decide what the hell and take a drink to keep the buzz going. Beau takes it up when I set it down and does the same. By the time we finish eating, most of the bottle is gone, but the awkwardness stayed.
“You have it wrong,” he finally says. “I’m not enough for you.”
“That’s bullshit.” The alcohol makes me bold. “That’s such fucking bullshit and you know it. I thought you were brave.”
“What made you think that?”
“You are about everything else.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just a good actor.”
“And a good liar.”
“I don’t lie.”
I shake my head at him. “And an idiot.”
“What do you want me to say? That I don’t see her when I look at you?”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
“That’s because you look for her. Stop torturing yourself.”
His head jerks back and his lips part. He looks at me like he doesn’t know me or doesn’t want to know me.
I hate myself for being mean to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t owe me anything. Just forget it. This getting drunk was a bad, bad idea.”
I reach for the bottle and try to stand, but my legs won’t hold me, and before I know it everything goes sideways. I put out a hand to catch myself and hit a hard chest. The world whooshes and rolls and we land on the bed with a bounce. He ends up on top of me, his hips between my legs. His mouth comes down hard on mine, hard enough to hurt, but I don’t care. Fisting his hair, I hold him to me. His tongue clashes with mine and it’s an all-out war. There’s no softness no finesse. Only need. Hot, hungry, angry need. His hands claw at my clothes. I shove his shirt up so I can get to his zipper.
His mouth clamps down on my breast and I let out a demented moan. Everything is frenzied and hot and aching. Need rises up and overtakes me. I’m wild, pushing down his pants to free him. My first feel of him makes us both groan. He’s hard and heavy in my hand as I stroke him. He shoves one finger, then two, inside me. My hips buck off the bed, driving his hand to the rhythm I desperately need. He picks up on my pace and before I know it I throw my head back and cry out.
He replaces his hand with his cock and pushes into me. I twist under him, my hands clamped to his backside. He’s all the way inside me and it’s making me crazy. He drives into me, pistoning his hips in brutal, punishing thrusts. I can’t get enough. Hooking my legs around his hips is all the encouragement he needs. I’m screaming, and he keeps coming at me, plunging deeper and deeper. I hold on to him as I come, digging my nails into his ass. He makes a final thrust and buries his face in my neck on a growl.
He’s heavy on top of me, but I don’t care. That was the single greatest thing to ever happen to me. His breath blows hot on the side of my face. I turn to look at him. His eyes are closed, clamped tight. He ducks his head so I can’t see him or try to read his reaction. Maybe I don’t want to know, because if he regrets this I might just shoot him.
Chapter 11
Beau
I fucked up.
I fucked Vera.
I fucking fucked Vera.
I fucking loved fucking Vera.
I shouldn’t fucking love it, but I do.