Page 35 of Somebody to Save
I headed back into the kitchen and cringed at the few dishes I’d left in the sink. Nothing gross, but my coffee cup from that morning and my plate from lunch hadn’t been washed.
Beckett remained frozen for another few seconds, then cautiously looked over at me, across my taller bar counter. “Oli, that’s an interesting name for a snake. Did he come with the name, or…?”
“No, his name was Winston, but I couldn’t get on board with that. And since snakes can’t necessarily understand their own names, I changed it. I named him after the lead singer of my favorite band.”
“Ahh, I see,” he said. He followed me into my little galley kitchen and leaned against the counter at the end, shaking his head. “Anyway, one more question.”
He folded his arms over his chest, and I tried notto gawk at the way the fabric of his jacket tightened around his biceps. I had to swallow before I spoke. “Shoot,” I prompted.
“You made me the other man?”
I froze and took too long to right my expression. One side of Beckett’s mouth tilted, and I was glad to see he wasn’t angry. But I didn’t know what I expected his reaction to be.
He pushed off the counter and slid his hands in his pockets as he strode toward me. Each step was precise and intentional. I took two slow steps back to delay his approach. Not because I was scared, but because he was stalking toward me like a predator who’d just latched on to his prey, and it felt like second nature.
My back hit the pantry door behind me, and I sucked in a sharp breath, realizing there was nowhere for me to go. With his hazel eyes pinned on me and that crooked smile still tilting his lips, he didn’t stop moving until he was crowding over me, his large body taking up what felt like the entire room.
One of his large hands reached forward, and my heartbeat skipped.
“So,” he mused, twisting a piece of my pink hair between his fingers. “When you fucked me, when you were writhing on my cock beggingDaddyto let you come, you were dating another man?”
My mouth dropped open, prepared to refute his very accurate assertion, but he tsked me immediately.
“And don’t lie to me, baby girl. Do. Not. Lie. To. Me.” His voice was husky and hard. Each word punctuated with his serious tone.
I forced myself to swallow, and any consideration I’d given to lying vanished. Every once in a while, I felt guilty for what I’d done. For cheating on Owen, whether he deserved it or not. But I couldn’t feel guilty for the night Beckett and I spent together. It was too good, too perfect.
Guilt tends to beget regret, and I couldn’t regret him either.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He hummed low in his throat and pushed the lock of hair behind my ear. His eyes scanned my face as he tangled his fingers in the back of my hair and tugged hard enough that my head wrenched back and I had no choice but to look up at him.
“What a dirty fucking girl,” he mused, and I dragged in a heaving breath. Power and dominance radiated off him, and I wanted to drown in it. “So needy for my cock, you made me the other man. A pretty little slut that easily forgot about her miserable boyfriend at home so she could fuck a stranger. Do you regret it?”
“Never.” My voice was drenched in need, barely above a whisper. Each breath I sucked in was overflowing withhim, and I could feel the energy of each of his words dancing over my skin.
I could tell my answer pleased him because he tightened his hold in my hair and ground his teeth together.
“Would you do it again? Fuck a stranger like a desperate slut?”
I shook my head, and his eyes darkened further. “No, but I’d…I’d fuck you. I want you.”
I stuttered over the curse word, but my statement was entirely true. I didn’t have any desire to have another one-night-stand with a faceless, nameless stranger.
But I couldn’t resist Beckett. God, I really didn’t want to. The need he’d sparked inside me was stronger than anything I’d felt before.
He groaned. “Don’t say things like that unless you want me to make them a reality, Addison.”
“I want it, Beckett. I want you.Please.”
“Try again, baby girl. What’s my name?”
“Beck—” I began but quickly realized what he’d asked. He didn’t want me to repeat his name; he wanted me to repeat the name I’d called him that night. Licking my lips, I caught his eyes and said confidently, “Daddy.”
What a wonderful power my words held. With one utteredword, Beckett’s restraint snapped like it was made of only paper or string.
His mouth slammed down on mine, and he braced his hands under my butt, easily lifting me into his arms. My legs banded around his waist, and my arms clasped around his neck.
