Page 147 of One Last Encore

She arched against him, a sharp, helpless sound escaping her lips as his hands roamed, rediscovering the dips and curves of her like he was learning her all over again. When she felt the hardness of his erection pressing against her, her breath hitched in her throat. Her fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as if letting go would shatter her.

"Beck," she whispered, the sound breaking somewhere between a plea and a prayer.

His lips paused against her neck, his breath unsteady. Then he lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. His gaze was dark and burning.

"Tell me to stop," he rasped, like it was being dragged from somewhere deep and unwilling. He rested his forehead gently against hers, his breath uneven. "If you don’t, I won’t be able to."

She didn’t. Instead, she yanked him back down, crushing her lips to his, answering him with a hunger words could never match.

His hand slipped beneath her hoodie, fingers grazing her bare skin, sending a shiver through her. He traced a slow path down her body, his fingertips skating over her stomach before sliding up, brushing just beneath her breast.

When he finally cupped her, his thumb teasing over her nipple, a sharp gasp tore from her lips. She arched into him, her body seeking more, the hoodie bunching between them.

His lips followed, trailing heat down her skin, his mouth closing over her nipple. A strangled cry escaped her as her fingers tangled in his hair, her body trembling beneath him. The scattered letters crinkled under them as his tongue flicked and teased, sending fire curling through her veins.

She tugged at his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, urging him on. Every slow drag of his tongue, every teasing graze of his teeth sent lightning through her. She had chased this feeling before, but nothing had ever burned like this. Like him.

With a firm tug, she guided his face up, their eyes locking. His were dark and intense, mirroring everything crashing through her. She leaned in, lips just brushing his–

A sudden knock rattled the front door.

"Ingrid Dubois?" A gruff voice rang through the door, thick with a New York accent.

Beck groaned, dropping his forehead against her collarbone before pulling away. Ingrid yanked her hoodie down, hands trembling as she sat up, her breath still uneven.

Beck ran a hand through his messy hair, jaw clenched as he stalked toward the door. Ingrid trailed after him, her pulse thrumming from Beck's touch.

He yanked the door open. A stocky man stood there in a uniform, mustache thick and twitching like he was trying not to laugh the second he saw them.

"Ah. Hope I’m not interrupting."

Ingrid smoothed her hair, trying to compose herself. Beside her, Beck looked equally wrecked. His hair was wild and a faint flush was lingering at his throat.

"The rat’s been taken care of," the man announced, puffing out his chest. "Caught him myself and let him loose a few blocks away."

It took Ingrid a second to process. "Oh," she said, clearing her throat. She glanced at his name tag, "Uh thank you… Rufus. I owe you one."

Rufus grinned, tipping his cap. "No problem, miss. Let me know if any other rats bother you." He cast a pointed look at Beck.

Beck smirked, completely unbothered. "Will do."

Rufus gave a satisfied nod before whistling a cheery tune and strolling away.

Ingrid stood frozen in the doorway, gripping the frame as everything crashed down on her. Her breath caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh, something wild and breathless and impossible to name.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something. She wanted to collapse into him and demand why he hadn’t said anything sooner. Instead, she just stood there.

The hallway stretched out before her, empty and quiet, but everything inside her was in chaos.

It felt like she’d been cracked open, splintered right down the middle. Every nerve was raw, every emotion scraped to the surface.

"What are you thinking?" Beck’s voice broke through, low and careful, like he was afraid to tip the balance. There was something beneath it, an edge, something unreadable that made her want to curl in on herself and screamwhy didn’t you tell me?

She turned, lips parting, but the words tangled in her throat, too big and sharp to say. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.

Her voice barely carried across the space between them. "I just... I need the night to process everything."

Beck’s expression softened, a quiet understanding settling behind his eyes. "Of course," he murmured. Then he reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear just like he used to. His touch was so gentle it sent a shiver skimming down her spine. "I’ll leave my door unlocked when you’re ready to come home."

---