Page 24 of Tangled Up

“Call me if she has any problems.” Beck’s standing beside his ivory Rover outside Aunt Viv’s house holding my phone.

I watch his long, elegant fingers as he taps his number into my messenger app and hits send. The thought of how those fingers feel sliding under my skirt, sliding inside me, filters through my brain. When we were younger, I would catch his hands in mine and put his fingers in my mouth before sliding them down my neck to my breasts.

Clearing my throat, I shake away that memory. “Does this mean you’ll answer this time if I text you?”

“I’ll answer.” His blue eyes meet mine, and a shimmer moves through my stomach. He still has the ability to steal my breath with only a glance.

“If she had an emergency, you’d never get here in time from Tampa.”

“No, but I could talk you through it, help you with the urgent care doctor.” He hands me my phone, and it seems different since he touched it—which is so dumb.

I’m twenty-seven years old. I’ve known this man since we were kids. I have no good excuse for responding to him this way.

Other than I’m still in love with him.

It’s a thought that hit me so hard tonight, and I still want to fight with it. I can’t feel this way about him after everything that happened… But there it is.

Going to his beach house tonight, I knew I was opening a door I wouldn’t be able to close. I was so furious when I got to Aunt Viv’s. Seeing him at the food truck with that whore Libby…

Okay, that’s not fair. Libby seems like a nice enough person, and how could she possibly know our history?

Still, she had her hands all over him, and I was so pissed. My blood was burning in my veins, and no matter how fast I walked, I couldn’t ease the adrenaline in my chest.

Aunt Viv was still watching television and surprised to see me home so early. I gave her the chicken salad, and she dove right into it, declaring it the best thing she’d had all day.

I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sit still on the couch like everything was fine. I paced the kitchen with my arms crossed while my aunt chomped on her salad watchingThe Golden Girlsreruns and talking about her new knitting project and her wonderful chat with Mrs. Thelma.

She was so upbeat for a change, and I should’ve been happy my diagnosis was successful, not a trace of Debbie Downer in sight. I wasn’t.

All I could think about was him being with Libby, her fingers in his hair, on his arm, on his body. I told my aunt goodnight, but I was just getting ready for bed when I decided I had to go over there and see if he had taken her home.

Fuck being the bigger person.

I’ve been the bigger person for too long.

If she’d been there…

What?

What exactly was I planning to do?

I can say I wasn’t planning to fall back into bed with him—or back onto couch, I guess. A flash of me on his lap, his hands in my hair, his mouth on my breasts, his thick cock thrusting in and out… Heat floods my body.

“You’re still driving the truck?” He nods at my old Ford F-150, snapping me out of my steamy reverie.

“I can’t seem to let it go.” Wow, talk about metaphors.

“I can understand that.” He laughs softly. “It has a lot of memories.”

Too many memories. “I’d better head inside.”

“I’ll be here Thursday afternoon.” His voice is gentle, and he slides his hand up my arm. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

I glance up at his square jaw covered in dark scruff. A muscle moves side to side, and he’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

“No.” The word comes out so fast, like a protective instinct, and I move away from his touch.

He seems confused, and I guess he has a right to be. I’ve already fucked him. Why won’t I kiss him? I’m still recovering from what we did and what it unleashed inside me. My self-preservation instinct is very strong.

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