Page 108 of One and Only

The build was slow, achingly, painfully slow, and when it crested, the pleasure was a sweet, sharp spike that had me arching my back, chanting a chorus ofyes, oh yes, warmth unspooling down my body in a wave.

While my breath heaved, I hardly registered that he’d moved closer. That his hands were locked tight between his legs.

And then he laid his forehead against my trembling stomach.

“You are incredible,” he whispered.

My fingers threaded through his hair, soft and smooth and cool. I held him to me while we both breathed heavily.

Me from spent relief. And him, from an impossible wall that he didn’t quite know how to climb.

Oh how I wanted to do it for him. To tear down whatever he’d put between us.

But for the first time in my life, I couldn’t.

After a few more moments, he lifted his head. I traced my thumb along his brow, and he closed his eyes at my impossibly light touch.

As I came down, Beckett slowly stood, towering over me as he glanced down the front of my body with unreadable eyes.

Carefully, without touching my skin, he tugged one strap up into place. Then the other.

While he did, I slid my skirt back into place.

I let out a loaded exhale as he stepped back. It wasn’t awkward, per se. But a good makeout session would have been a little bit nicer way to ease back into reality.

Still … I couldn’t regret it.

When had a man ever looked at me like he wanted me that badly? Where his body shook from the force it took to hold himself back?

Never.

“I’ll meet you in there in a couple of minutes,” he said quietly.

I arched an eyebrow in question.

He gave me a level look. “I need to recite the Gettysburg Address or something,” he said wryly.

I exhaled a laugh. “Ahh. Right.” I cleared my throat, pulling at the knot in my hair, even though it was halfway sliding back down my neck. “I’m assuming you don’t need help with that.”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “I don’t.”

I was still smiling when I let myself out into the quiet hallway. And a small knot of disquiet formed at the base of my throat the moment the door closed behind me.

Because I knew at some point, he’d either have to choose to break down that wall between us, or I’d have to make peace with the fact that he’d live behind it forever.

What I’d said to Beckett was still true—this was a way to allow an outlet for some of these feelings, the ones building and building with no place to go. Maybe the consequences were unseen and wouldn’t affect an entire life, but it would take time before we knew that.

Walking out of that room, I still felt sexy and desired. But even more than that, I felt adored. By someone so guarded that he couldn’t even bring himself to touch me without fear of what it might unleash in him. In his carefully constructed life.

By the time he joined me in the reception hall, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and Micah gave us a knowing look, laughing behind the rim of his champagne.

We didn’t dance, and there was no more under the table touching, no more arms draped behind my back. But every time our eyes met and held, there was a new buzzing sort of awareness. A distinct hum that hadn’t been there before.

Olive visited our table and informed her dad she was doing a cousin sleepover at Josie’s house, and I felt a visceral thud of disappointment.

He looked at me over her head, his face unreadable.

No reason to share a bed tonight.

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