Page 86 of Perfect Composition
Tears prick my eyes as he begins the push and pull, his length dragging along the sensitive tissue inside of me. Over and over, I’m taking a ride I’ve ridden so many times and yet I’m on for the very first time.
I feel the ripples of the beginning of my orgasm along his erection. He increases the pace of his thrusts, the sweat dripping from his hair. Civility is torn away, this essential mating taking us back to who we’ve always been.
Paige and Beckett. One of life’s beautiful songs.
As we crescendo, his fingers twine with mine. I tighten my legs around him and hold on with all my might, knowing that even if I can’t hold on to him forever, I’ll always have this.
And therefore, I’ll always have a piece of Beckett to love.
PAIGE
CHAPTER THIRTY- ONE
Celebrity tattoo artist Kitty made a public service announcement the other day. Before you ink something permanently into your skin, be certain you’re not going to regret it later. This is why she refuses all appointments between Christmas and New Year’s. Considering her clients include the likes of Beckett Miller, Brendan Blake, and Small Town Nights, she’s serious when she locks those doors.
— Moore You Want
I trail my finger over the circular letters of the words “Live the Dream” on Beckett’s chest. “Is this odd?”
He flattens my hand down, pressing it against the thundering of his racing heart. “What?”
“Us. This.” I shift my legs beneath the sheet against his since one arm is trapped beneath his body, and I’m not anxious to move it.
Beckett barks out a laugh. “Why?”
“Perhaps because it happened so fast?
“I’ve been trying to woo you since I first got here.”
“Is that what you call it?” I think back over the last few days where Beckett’s done nothing but been here for me and duck my head so he can’t see my lips curve.
“Intense wooing.”
“My home, my life invaded by security,” I begin.
“By me. Rekindling the spark. Stoking old fires.”
“Oh, you stroked something all right,” I think aloud. But I don’t beat myself up too much when I realize what I said as he roars with laughter because the sound is too precious. It rarely happened back then, and now, I ask, “Do you laugh?”
“Not the way I did with you. Nothing worked the same as it did with you.”
I roll my eyes.
“I wasn’t kidding just then, Paigey.” Beckett pulls away just enough so he can roll to his side and face me. He captures my hand in his before pulling it to his heart again. “This certainly didn’t work the same.”
I snuggle down a little before confessing, “Mine didn’t either. How could it when I had part of your soul tied to mine every minute of every day?”
His eyes close as if the weight of my words causes him both pleasure and pain. “I should have come home.”
“You were home—wherever that was,” I remind him.
His thick lashes lift off his cheeks. “No, I’ve been on the road running from home since the last time I saw you spread out before me.”
I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips. “That’s sweet.”
“That’s the truth.”
“Beckett,” I begin. He arches a brow at me calling him by his chosen name. The light catches off the nose ring he now sports. Determinedly, I go on. “I’ve learned the hard way love is just a sound your mouth makes unless it’s backed up with actions and feelings.”
