Page 79 of Beckett
I pushed inside slowly, watching her face as I stretched her, filled her. Her eyes went wide, then heavy lidded with pleasure.When I was fully seated, we both stilled, adjusting to the sensation.
“Move,” she commanded, wrapping her legs around me.
I smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
I started slow, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. The wet heat of her, the way she gripped me—it was almost too much. But this wasn’t about me. This was about her reclaiming her body, her pleasure, her power.
I shifted angles until I found the one that made her gasp, hitting that spot that made her squirm with every thrust. Her nails dug into my shoulders, leaving marks I’d wear proudly.
“Harder,” she demanded.
I gave her what she wanted, increasing the pace, the force. The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard tapping against the wall. She met me thrust for thrust, taking control even from beneath me.
When I felt her starting to tighten around me again, I reached between us, finding her clit with my thumb, circling it in time with my thrusts.
“Beckett!” She came apart beneath me, her internal muscles clamping down so hard I saw stars.
I followed her over, pumping into her as my orgasm crashed through me, her name breaking from my lips like a prayer and a promise combined.
After, we lay tangled together, both breathing hard. Her fingers traced the scars on my chest, occasionally pressing kisses to whatever she could reach. Through the door, Jet’s gentle snoring provided an oddly comforting soundtrack.
“That was…” she started, then stopped, seeming to search for words.
“What we both needed?”
“More than that.” She propped herself up on an elbow, looking down at me with eyes that held something I hadn’t seenbefore. Hope, maybe. “For fourteen months, my body hasn’t felt like mine. Every touch, even my own, reminded me of him. Of what he did. But just now? That was mine. My choice, my pleasure, my power.”
I pulled her down for a kiss, tasting triumph on her lips. “Your body has always been yours. He just made you forget for a while.”
I would make sure she didn’t forget it again.
Chapter 26
Audra
The morning routine at Pawsitive Connections had become my anchor—something solid and predictable when everything else felt like quicksand. I measured out feed for the horses, their warm breath clouding in the cool morning air as they nickered their greetings. The repetitive motions of filling water buckets and mucking stalls gave my hands something to do while my mind spun in circles.
Jet stayed close, his solid presence at my knee a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone. Every few minutes, he’d press his nose into my palm, checking in. Making sure I was okay. His solid black coat gleamed in the morning sun streaming through the barn windows, the single white spot on his chest standing out like a star. I found myself focusing on the alert set of his ears, the way they swiveled to track every sound. Anything to keep my mind from spiraling.
“I’m fine, boy,” I murmured, scratching behind his ears. The lie came easier now, wrapped in the normalcy of morning chores.
But I wasn’t fine. My shoulders ached from tension, every unexpected sound making me flinch. A horse kicked its stall door, and I nearly dropped the bucket, water sloshing over the sides and soaking my boots. One of the barn cats knocked over a feed scoop, and my heart hammered against my ribs for a full minute after, even though I could see it was just Clyde the fat tabby who liked to sleep in the grain bins.
I knew at least one of the Warrior Security guys was somewhere on the property. Watching. Protecting. Probably Coop—he had that easy way about him that made you forget he could likely kill someone with his pinkie finger. Yesterday, I’d caught a glimpse of someone near the tree line when I’d been working with the horses. Just a shadow of movement, there and gone, but it had been reassuring rather than frightening. Strange how context changed everything.
The knowledge should have made me feel safer. Should have let me relax into the work, into this place that had become more home than anywhere I’d lived in the past year.
It didn’t.
Because the stalker was still out there. He’d found me again. He might not know about Pawsitive—God, I prayed he didn’t know about Pawsitive—but he was close. Too close.
Yesterday’s time decompressing with Beckett had been a reprieve—one that still had me aching in all the best ways. All day and all night in the cabin, just the two of us, knowing we were safe because of the Warrior Security team looking after us.
It had been perfect.
It had been temporary.
The barn door slid open with its characteristic squeal—I’d been meaning to oil those tracks—and I tensed, my handautomatically gripping the pitchfork tighter. But it was just Beckett’s silhouette filling the doorway, backlit by morning sun. The sight of him should have immediately calmed me, but the tight set of his shoulders and the phone pressed to his ear sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me.
