Page 32 of Claiming Becca

She swallows and takes a hesitant step back. “Oh. I thought a spider was on me,” she says, “I jumped out of the shower, then nearly slipped and fell.”

“What was it?” I ask her, rubbing my hands along her bare shoulders again, unable to stop myself from touching her.

“What was what?” she asks. Her breathing comes in pants, causing me to smirk. I affect her. I pull her small hand into mine, making her step closer and begin to trace the lines on her palm.

“You said you thought it was a spider,” I remind her. She’s leaning into me, so I wrap an arm around her and pull her close.

“Hmmm…” She hums, and then she freezes. “Oh! It was a piece of hair.” My fingers stop their exploration of her skin as I stare at her.

“It was hair?” I ask.

She chuckles. “Yeah. A piece of hair slid down my back and leg. I nearly broke my neck trying to get out of the shower.” I run my fingers through her wet hair.

“So, your tombstone would say death by hair, but thought it was a spider?” I ask her.

She starts laughing and nods. “I guess so.” I arch an eyebrow at her. Her hands come up to my chest, gently rubbing my pecks. I rock into her, and she sucks in a breath. “You don’t have long hair, so you wouldn’t understand.”

I want to snatch her towel off again. There isn’t any space between us. I’m holding her tight, and she’s leaning into me. This is perfect. I don’t want it to end. She swallows and pushes away from me.

“I need to finish getting ready for bed,” she whispers. I want to pull her back into my arms, but I let her go, at least for now. After this, there is no way I’m letting her go on a date with another guy now.

Sitting in my chair, I ignore that Becca is running around the house, getting ready for her date. She came home from her shift at the gym and said she had to get ready to go out. I assumed she was going to hang out with Bailey, but when she came down in a leopard print dress, I realized this was probably a date. She does wear the occasional dress, but it’s not often, usually only for special occasions. She comes to stand in front of me.

“How do I look?” she asks.

I grit my teeth but hide my frustration. “You look beautiful, Shortcake.”

Her eyes widen at my comment, and she glances down at herself. “Really?” she asks. As much as I hate the idea of her going out with someone else, I have this need to make her realize how beautiful she is.

“Yes, really. You’re beautiful all the time,” I say. Her face breaks out into a smile. I want her to stay home with me or, better yet, let me take her out on a date. Not whoever this guy is. “Where are you going?” I ask her.

She looks away from me and bites her lip. “Just a place downtown,” she tells me, avoiding looking at me. I narrow my eyes. There is only one place downtown that would make her act like this.

“What’s the place?”

She sighs and responds. “The Mexican restaurant. Sombreros. Happy?” I bite my tongue and stare at her. That’s. Our. Place. We go there almost every Wednesday for margaritas.

She stares back at me momentarily before glancing away with a slight shuffle of her feet. Letting out a frustrated sigh. “Keep your phone on you just in case you need an escape. You can call or text me nine-one-one, and I’ll devise an excuse,” I grind out to her harsher than I mean to.

She smirks. “I’m sure it will be fine. I’ve talked to him a few times. He’s nice,” she tells me. I grunt and return to the baseball game I’m watching. “Alright, I’m leaving. Don’t wait up,” she says, and my attention returns to her again.

“He’s not coming to pick you up?” I ask her.

“No. I don’t want him to know where I live.” She pauses. “Well, I know I don’t live here. But I’m trying to be safe,” she explains. I don’t respond. Instead, I stare at her. My eyes roam over her. She’s gorgeous.

“Text me when you get there. At least let me know he’s not a psycho,” I demand, clenching my fist. She tilts her head at me and places her hand on her hip.

“I’m sure Lincoln has placed some great safety measures into his app,” she replies. I squint at her, and she sighs. “I’ll text you.” She leans down and kisses me on the cheek. “See you later.” I want to pull her into my lap and not let her leave, but instead, I watch her walk out the door.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

BECCA

MY THOUGHTSdon’t stray far from Connor the entire drive to Sombreros. It’s been days since the incident in the bathroom. My mouth waters at the thought of seeing him naked. I’ve seen him without a shirt before, but holy shit, he is quite large, and he was extremely turned on. Why hasn’t he done anything? My hands clench the steering wheel as I exhale deeply.

I’m tired of waiting around, so I scheduled a date with a guy I matched with on the dating app Lincoln’s company launched. I kept hoping he’d ask me to stay or say he wanted to be my date instead of Scott. He didn’t do any of that. Instead, he told me I was beautiful and gave me some safety tips. Pulling into the parking lot, I sigh.

I don’t want to do this. I’d rather be with Connor. Instead, I’m about to walk into the restaurant and hang out with someone I don’t know. Pursing my lips and ignoring the rapid beating of my heart, I climb out of the car. I can’t keep waiting and hoping. I thought maybe I’d make him jealous, but he didn’t seem upset. Pulling up Bailey’s name on my phone, I call her.

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