Page 64 of Beautiful Desire
They don’t stay for long, and by the time they leave, I breathe out a sigh of relief. That was the single most awkward encounter I’ve ever had with them. Locking the front door behind them, I rest my back against it and meet Fletcher’s gaze.
It’s quiet for a moment, and then Fletcher busts out laughing. “Fuck, that was awkward.”
“You think they know what we were doing before they got here?” I ask.
“Oh, one hundred percent.” Then he chuckles and adds, “Doesn’t help you’ve got a hickey on your neck.”
“What?” Striding over to the mirror in the hallway, I check out my reflection, my nerves spiking once more when I see the mark he’s referring to. I turn toward him and shove him on the shoulder. “Fletcher, you gave me a fucking hickey? Are we fucking fifteen?”
“Oh, come on,” he drawls as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me into him. “It’s not like I did it on purpose.” He presses a kiss to the bruised spot on my neck, sending a shiver down my spine and a wave of goosebumps over my flesh. “You just felt too good,” he purrs. “I couldn’t help it.”
Covering my face, I groan, dropping my forehead to his shoulder. “This is bad. This is so bad.”
“Calm down, Peach,” he says soothingly as he runs his hands along my back. “They didn’t say anything, so maybe they don’t suspect anything.”
“I hope you’re right,” I grumble and make no move to pull away from him. I hate how easily he’s able to comfort me.
It’sa little after two in the morning. My eyes burn, but I couldn’t sleep so I decided to get some candle work done that I’d been needing to do. Apparently, Fletcher couldn’t sleep either, because not even twenty minutes after I started, he sauntered in here, barefoot and shirtless, wearing a pair of pajama pants slung low on his hips. For a moment, I contemplated letting him bend me over this table instead of doing any actual work, but thankfully, the logical part of my brain took control and told me I needed to get this done.
“I made nachos,” Fletcher announces as he strolls into the spare room.
My brows pinch as I turn toward him. “You were gone for, like, five minutes.”
He chuckles, setting the plate down on the table beside the tins we just filled with wax. “That’s all I needed, Peach. A can of refried beans and the leftover queso on some chips, thrown in the microwave for a couple minutes.” Shoving a chip in his mouth, he adds, “And they’re fucking good too.”
Leaving the room again, Fletcher comes back a minute later with two glasses filled with ice water. He sits down in the chair across from me and shoves the plate closer. “Eat,” he insists. “I heard your stomach grumbling while we were working.”
I do what he says, and I must admit, the microwave nachos are actually pretty good. “Thanks for your help,” I say in between bites.
Fletcher helped mix everything and get it poured while I had him run through his presentation with me. I can tell he’s nervous, but he’s more than ready. After about two hours, wefinally reached a point I was comfortable stopping at. Had it not been for his help, I probably wouldn’t have even gotten half of this done.
“No problem, Peach.” After taking a swig from his water, he then asks, “Is your mind still on our parents coming over earlier? That the reason you couldn’t sleep?”
Heaving a sigh, I nod. “Yeah, but I don’t really want to talk about it right now. Otherwise, I’ll never get to sleep.”
“Fair enough.” His lips tic up as he watches me, and it makes my stomach flutter. “Thank you, by the way.”
My brows pinch. “For what?”
“For all your help. My mom said it earlier, and it made me realize I haven’t said it.” Fletcher holds my gaze, my skin tingling under the weight of his stare and what he’s saying. “If it weren’t for you, I don’t think I would’ve been able to finish.”
Swallowing thickly, I huff a dry laugh. “Yes, you would’ve,” I murmur. “You would’ve figured out a way to do it, because you know it’s the only thing standing in your way from your dreams. Give yourself a little more credit, Fletcher. I’m proud of you. I don’t think you hear that enough.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Well, still. Thank you.”
Once we’re finished eating, we take everything to the kitchen and drop the dishes in the sink. Crowding my body against the counter, Fletcher wraps his arms around my shoulders, and I automatically do the same around his middle. Looking into each other’s eyes for a moment, my throat gets tight, and when he leans in and presses his lips to mine, the feeling only intensifies. He kisses me with soft, tender strokes of his tongue and gentle nibbles on my lip. I melt in his arms.
I’m starting to like the way he feels wrapped around me a little too much, but I don’t know how to stop.
29
Georgia
Fletcher: Think I nailed it!
Me: Of course, you did! So proud of you!
His response is instant, and I huff a laugh at how on par it is for him.
