Page 33 of Scooter's Endgame
Obviously in the process of saying something, I catch him with his lips parted and take the opportunity to slip my tongue between them, to caress his. For a split second, Beckett’s body freezes, and I think he’s going to reject me. But then I feel him sink into the kiss, and it’s like Christmas come early.
Damn, the man knows how to kiss. I fall into it like Alice tumbling into Wonderland, losing all sense of time and place. After what seems like forever, and no time at all, he leans back, breaking the kiss. Sucking a breath in, I lean my head back against the headrest, my head spinning harder than ever.
“Come on, sweet pea, let’s get you out of here and into the house.”
“No, I need to get Luke into the house first.”
His chuckle is husky, sending waves of hot and cold washing through me, the sound like a whisper of a touch over my skin. Seductive and undoubtedly arousing. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s get you into the house and then I’ll come back for him. He’ll be plenty safe here in the car.”
I’m proud of the fact that I only wobble once as he eases me out of the car and onto my feet. With a sure hand, he guides me over to the front door of my tiny new home, ensuring I’m steady on my feet before releasing me to unlock with the key he fished out of my pocket.
Even that was hot, feeling him dig around the confined space so close to my skin.
Once again, as he leans past me to unlock, I lay my lips on his. This time, he steps into me and takes control, cupping my chin to hold me still for his exploration of my mouth. My skin burns where he touches me, like he’s branding me, and that feeling arrows straight to my core.
Desire curls through me, like tendrils of smoke, making me feel more electrified and alive than I ever have. I want him with everything in me; I just don’t know how to tell him.
This time it’s me that has to break our kiss or risk suffocating. He rests his forehead on mine, his own breath sawing in and out of his lungs like he’s just done a quarter mile.
The words come out of nowhere, and I feel Beckett go rock solid beneath my hands. “You’re the sweetest man I know. You know that? No one’s ever been as nice to me as you have over the last short while. I just want you to know I’m thankful for you and grateful to you. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Is that what this is all about? Gratitude?” I’m so taken aback by his words I’m struck silent. Without giving me time to answer, he steps back from me. “Go ahead and open up, I’ll grab Luke.”
He steps away from me, turning toward the vehicle behind him. I feel awkward and confused at his abrupt coldness. What the hell just happened?
“Beckett?”
“Just open the door, Kathleen.” His tone brooks no argument and, like the good little automaton I am, I do as I’m told. But I can’t stop the tears from forming in my eyes.
I’m not just confused by the about-turn in his behavior, but hurt too. I can’t figure out what I did to upset him. Unlocking my front door, I step out of his way so he can take my son inside.
Watching him cradle my boy in his arms, I feel an overwhelming longing for him to hold me close like that again. He takes Luke to his bedroom, and I lose sight of him for long moments before he returns to where I’m standing.
“If I wanted gratitude, I’d get a dog,” he says, his eyes hard. My lips part as his words land like darts, and I have to bite down on my bottom lip to prevent it from quivering. Before I can respond, he walks out, throwing parting words over his shoulder without turning around, “I’m out tomorrow. Lock the door.”
I watch as he walks over to the main house, never once looking back.
Once again, doing as I’m told, I lock up before going to my room. As I go through the motions of removing my makeup, far more sober now than when I first got home, I allow the tears to fall.
In all the years I’ve known Beckett, that’s the first time he’s ever made me feel like shit. And I don’t understand why. All I know is, it hurts more than it ever did when Jeff did the same thing.
Turning the bathroom light out, I climb into bed. Saddened to my soul, I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, and pray for sleep to claim me. Maybe I can figure out what happened here tonight in the clear light of day.
16
SCOOTER
What the actual fuck?
Yeah, gratitude is great and all, but not exactly what I want to hear when I’m pouring my heart and soul into a kiss, thinking she’s feeling the same heat as me. Only to find out it’s because she’s thankful for all I’ve done to help her and her son? Fuck that.
Madder than a wet hen, I pour myself a glass of Kentucky’s finest bourbon as I glare over at the small cottage. “You’re the sweetest man I know? You know that?” I mimic her words as I slosh liquid into my tumbler.
I can’t remember the last time I was this mad. Dropping down into a chair, I continue to stare over at the darkened house across the lawn, brooding. After a good few minutes, as the alcohol begins to weave its magic and smooth my mood out, a thought pops into my head.
Did I just overreact?
The closer I get to the bottom of my glass, the stronger the feeling gets. I totally blew things out of proportion. But then my mind swings back to how the words sliced through me after one of the best damn kisses of my entire life.
