Page 31 of When We Break

Pulling out of his grasp, I stand and walk to the kitchen, grab two bottles of water, and return, offering him one. When he takes it, I sit where I was before, and Beckett takes my hand again as if he simply has to touch me, and I’m grateful.

I do enjoy his touch.

“He never did anything that was technically against the law or that I couldprovewas against the law.”

His eyes narrow, his hand tightens on mine, and for the first time in my life, I want to move over and put myself in a man’s lap. “Explain, please.”

“He’d call but not incessantly. He’d send me flowers. Pink roses.” I shiver at that and shake my head. “Ugh, if I never see another pink rose, it’ll be too soon.”

“Noted.”

“He kept inserting himself into my life even though I’d told him to stop. And when I stopped answering him, he got agitated.”

“How long did this go on, Skyla?”

I chew on my bottom lip, doing the math. “Almost two years.”

He pulls his hand away and leans forward, those amber eyes full of anger. “Two fucking years?”

I nod. “Yes. Remember, I’d call the police, and they’d tell me that he hadn’t done anything wrong. That he wasn’t bothering me to the point of it actually being considered stalking orharassment.And there were times when he’d go months without reaching out to me. And just as I’d start to feel secure, believing that he’d finally moved on, something would happen. It was enough to keep me on edge and in a constant state of worry but not enough to get him into trouble.”

“Fucking asshole.”

“Quite, yes. One night, I woke up in the middle of the night, and IknewI wasn’t alone.”

Beckett stands and starts to pace, so angry that he can’t sit still.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop telling you. I just have to explain this to get to Riley and?—”

“I want to hear it,” he says, shaking his head. “And I want to kill him, all at the same time.”

But he sits, drags his hand down his face, then holds my hand once more.

“Are you okay?” My question is a whisper, and instead of answering, he simply tugs me into his lap, wraps his arms around me, and buries his face in my neck. I’ve never felt anything better in my life. My stomach quivers, my lady bits come fully awake, and it’s clear to me, right here and now, that being in Beckett’s arms is my favorite place to be. If I’m wrong about this man, it will devastate me because every molecule in my body screams that I can trust him.

And gods, how I want to trust him.

“This is better,” he murmurs, dragging one hand down my spine. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yes.” Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I slide my fingers into his hair and hold on. I am so much more than okay with this. “Yes, this is lovely.”

“We need a minute.” He presses his lips to my skin, where my neck meets my shoulder, and I take a deep breath, soaking in this moment.

This is what it must feel like to be treasured.

And he hasn’t even kissed me.

“Okay.” He pulls back and loosens his hold on me but keeps me in his lap. “Go on.”

I’ve wanted to touch his beard since the first moment I saw this man. If he can tug me onto his lap, I can do this.

My hand drifts down his face, into those whiskers, and I was right. They’re soft and feel amazing against my palm. And when I use my nails to scratch his cheek, he groans.

“Keep doing that, Irish, and we won’t make it through this conversation, and I think weneedto finish this.”

“You’re right, but I’ve wanted to touch you like this since I saw you at that pub.”

His eyebrows climb. “Is that right?”

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