“I think I could be convinced.”
They laughed and stumbled their way from Beckett’s back door to Gia’s front in a state of undress that would have scandalized all of Blue Moon. The rainbow of fallen leaves providing a colorful carpet for their bare feet as they scurried over the frost-scarred grass.
She made him pancakes in the sunny little kitchen while he started coffee and poured juice. They ate and laughed at her kitchen table, seeking touches or kisses between bites.
She sighed contentedly after Beckett fed her a piece of bacon. The only thing that would have made life more perfect at that moment is if Evan and Aurora were at the table eating and arguing. But the timing for that little fantasy needed to wait. She and Beckett weren’t in a relationship, no matter how tied to him she felt with a shiny chain of orgasms and sweet feelings.
And no relationship meant, no public declarations of affection. No family breakfasts, no sleepovers.
Gia glanced at the clock and sighed. “Our window is almost closed.”
Beckett took their plates into the kitchen, rinsed them and stacked them neatly in the dishwasher.
“I think we’ve got just enough time for a shower,” he said with a smoldering look.
Beckett Pierce stood in all his shirtless glory in her kitchen after loading the dishwasher and Gia knew she was a goner. There was no way she was going to come out of this unscathed and somehow she just didn’t care.
She stood up, a wicked sparkle in her eye. She had no idea how the two of them would fit in the tiny tub, but they would find a way and she could put her hands on him one more time. “Race you upstairs?”
He grinned, a heartbreaker of a smile.
Gia’s phone rang on the table. She hesitated for just a second, debating, before answering it.
“Hi, Dad. How did everything go last night?” She watched Beckett cross his arms and lean against the counter.
“Everything was great,” her father assured her. “Aurora had almost as good a time as Phoebe and I did. We were calling to see if you wanted to pick up Evan and join us for brunch.”
“Brunch?” Gia repeated.
Beckett hung his head in mostly mock disappointment.
“Brunch sounds great. I’ll go get Evan now.”
“Phoebe suggested seeing if Beckett’s available to join us, since you’re neighbors and all,” Franklin said. Gia could hear Aurora’s giggle in the background.
“I’ll see if Beckett’s around and hungry,” she said.
“You just ate three pancakes,” Beckett pointed out when she hung up.
“I can’t not go. I have to pick up Rora and if I don’t eat they’re going to get suspicious.”
“Suspicious of what? That you already had breakfast?”
Gia went to him and laid her head on his chest. Her fingers trailed over the ridges of his abs. “Want to come with me? You’re invited.”
He stilled her fingers with his hand. “Red, you see what’s happening with just a little touch.” He brought her hand to his barely contained erection. “If you look at me the wrong way across the breakfast table everyone’s going to get an X-rated show. I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of you. They’re going to take one look at us and know.”
“Know what?” Gia whispered, her hand sliding under the waistband of his pajama pants.
His inhale was a hiss when her fingers closed around his thick shaft.
“That we spent all night naked, wrapped around each other?” Her hand stroked up from the root to the crown. Beckett’s knuckles went white on the countertop.
“We don’t have time for another round, Red,” he groaned.
“You know, a lot can be accomplished in five minutes,” Gia said, slyly freeing him from his pants.
His eyes closed on a growl as her ripe lips encircled the crown of his cock and she proceeded to show him exactly how much could be accomplished.
22
Beckett whistled his way into the office on Monday morning with two steaming mugs of coffee. “Good morning,” he said, greeting Ellery.
It was a beautiful fall morning with just the slightest chill in the air demarking the arrival of sweater weather. The leaves were at their peak of color painted in bright reds and golds against the denim sky. He’d found himself hopping out of bed with a smile on his face that remained fixed there during his six-mile run before a shower, shave, and work.
“Morning,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.
Today she was decked out in a relatively sedate black sweater and skirt with what he affectionately referred to as her Frankenstein shoes. Her black tights had an argyle skull pattern with crystals for the eyes.
“How was your weekend?” he asked, settling in the chair in front of her desk.
“Just dandy. How about yours? You look like you won the lottery.” She took a sip of coffee and leaned forward.