Page 13 of Bonfire with Beckett
“Beckett…” My voice is breathless, wrecked even, as he nuzzles the side of my neck.
His lips curve against my skin sending a fresh ripple of delight through my whole body. “Say the word and I’ll stop.”
I don’t. I can’t. I kiss him again, hard, pushing myself on my toes to meet his lips again. My hands tangle in his hair, pullinghim closer. His groan rumbles into my chest, and my whole body sparks like the fire we’re fighting to light.
The whole damn world seems to turn on its side.
When he pulls back, we’re both gasping. His forehead rests against mine.
“We should head back,” he says hoarsely. “Before I forget how to be a gentleman.”
My laugh is shaky. “You don’t hear me complaining.”
“Don’t test me.” He brushes another soft kiss over my lips.“Let’s have dinner? My place. Tonight.”
“Yes,” I breathe.
The thought of being in his home, just us, makes heat bloom low in my belly.
We walk back to his truck in silence, hands brushing, smiles tugging at our mouths like we can’t quite contain what just happened. He opens my door for me, that old-fashioned gesture making my chest ache.
Winking at me, he slides into the driver’s seat and turns the key. The engine coughs. Stutters. Dies.
He frowns, tries again. Nothing but a hollow click.
I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “Problem, Fire Marshal?”
He growls under his breath, muttering something about the starter. Then he glances at me, sheepish and frustrated all at once.
“Looks like dinner might have to wait.”
SIX
BECKETT
The truck coughs once, then goes dead silent.
I try again. Nothing but a hollowclick click click click click.
“Great,” I mutter. “Just what I needed.”
Beside me, Willa tips her head, listening. “That doesn’t sound like the starter. Try the lights.”
I flip the switch. It’s dead.
“Battery,” she says without hesitation. “Just what I thought.”
I blink at her. “How do you?—”
“Don’t forget: My dad’s a mechanic.” She grins. “I’ve picked up a thing or two over the years.”
That tugs a reluctant smile from me. “We’ll need a jump. Maybe we should all your dad”
She nods, already pulling out her phone. When she hangs up, she sighs.
“He’s closing up the shop first. Said he’ll be about an hour.”
An hour. Alone. With Willa, who’s still flushed from that kiss at the lake, her lips kiss-swollen, her hair mussed from my hands.
