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life was fucking me in ways even the most adventurous porn had not prepared me for.
She didn’t give a shit what I had to say and she wanted me to know that more than anything else. And—I liked it?
I knew I’d made an enormous mistake when the dark-haired woman seemed to buzz with evil glee. She looked like she was prepared to torture me to my death and she was really fucking happy about it too.
My life, it really was an endless series of getting fucked in new and unsatisfying ways. No end. No stopping point. Not even a lull in the action where I could contemplate throwing myself off a cliff simply to avoid the next round of fuckery.
It was horrible. Everything was horrible.
The only things she knows how to evade are organization and structure.”
“It’s not that I didn’t like it,” she said carefully. “I wasn’t right for the book. It was me.” Muffy dropped her head onto her upturned hand. “I know, and I see the things that probably didn’t work for you.” She blinked several times as if she was fighting a rush of tears. “I just loved it so much. Like”—she pressed a hand to her chest—“I felt that book in my bones. It did things to me. And I needed you to love it the same way I did.” She slipped her fingers under the frames of her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I know that’s not fair. You’re allowed to love or not love whatever you want.”
“If you think for one second that I won’t pick you up and carry you out of here, you’re dead wrong and I fucking dare you to test me.”
She laughed and I’d swear the sound electrified the night. At the very least it electrified me.
“Let yourself live a little. You’re not going to get another chance.”
“The tough part is when they almost burned the house down because they went across the street to have drinks with the neighbors on their porch but forgot to turn off the grill. There’s a scorch mark on the back of the house. I showed it to my dad after it happened and he wasn’t worried. Like, ‘oh, well, no one got hurt, everything’s fine.’”
“What am I doing wrong?” “Nothing, sweetheart. It’s just not your moment. The time will come. I promise.”
In the depths of my mind, I registered that he was claiming more of my personal space than I usually preferred to share with anyone but I didn’t want him to stop. It didn’t feel like he was taking anything from me. It felt like he was giving something and that made all the difference.
“Stop trying to control everything. It won’t work. Enjoy the chaos.”
He murmured in agreement. “I guess you’re right.” “What did you just say? Isn’t it against your religion to allow me to be right at any point in time ever?” I looked around the hallway. “Will lightning strike you down?” “You’re funny, storm cloud. Real fuckin’ funny.”
I didn’t know if I was ready for Beckett to suddenly respect my time and space while also waiting to get me alone. At the very same time, I loved the way he watched me. I loved the heat of his gaze as it skimmed the lines of my body and the dark intention I caught in his eyes. I had no problem admitting that I enjoyed the attention.
How about the time when he asked me to watch him roll up his sleeves, which we all knew to be the official mating dance of the modern male.
I scowled at him, not that he noticed. “What the fuck are you reading, Price?” He flipped the book to glance at the woman on the cover. “It’s Before I Let Go by Kennedy Ryan. I picked it up for the Read Naked book club.” When I continued staring at him, he added, “There’s nothing wrong with men reading romance, Loew.” “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.” I shrugged, adding, “By all means, read whatever you want.” “You should try it. You might learn something.” “I don’t doubt it,” I said.
She leaned back in the chair and gathered her hair in her hands, laughing hard. I wanted to burn that image into my brain. I wanted to see it in my dreams and hear that laugh every time I felt like the world was a series of spinning plates never more than a second from crashing down around me.
“I will do anything you want but I need you to be very clear about what that is.” His words were tight, like bolts turned too far, but his face was calm, steady. Even. “Tell me what you do like. We’ll start there and figure it out as we go. Okay?” “Okay.”
“I’m used to you saying ridiculous things. I’d be concerned if you stopped.”
I’d existed for thirty-six years thinking I was a full, complete human being, but the truth was I’d been waiting all my life to hold her like this.
She smiled and it was like seeing the sun for the very first time. Like everything I thought I knew about warmth and brightness was a half-truth, a delusional fragment of the radiance in front of me.
“You didn’t have to do that.” “You’re right. I didn’t.” I leaned in, brushed my fingers over her forearm. “I wanted to.”
The last thing I realized tonight—and by far the most important—was that I was almost completely certain I’d fallen in love with Sunny somewhere between yelling at her about flowerpots and being happy that she liked the ravioli, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
“Now that I think about it, I might like you a lot, Beckett Loew. I think I’m going to like you for a long time, if you’ll let me.”
“I don’t know who I am if I’m not the one who takes care of things.”
I heard her laugh while I prepared the dogs’ bowls. The sound warmed me all the way through. It was a sunbeam right to the heart and I couldn’t believe I’d ever lived without it.
“There is no more honest moment than the one that could be the last.”
