In the Weeds (Lovelight, #2)

by B.K. Borison

“I want more,” I tell her—another confession—my hand slipping down between us to brush the soft skin just below her belly button. “I want everything.”

“I’ll stay. I think I’m finding some happy out here.“ She looks at her hands with a grin, the dirt caked over her knuckles. Her eyes find mine and her smile tips wider. “Out here in the weeds.”

I curl my fingers around it and stare at him. “Will we be eating before or after you commit a crime?” A smile barely touches his lips. “After.” “I imagine that might be difficult with blood on your hands.” His lip quirks up further and he nods towards the bathroom. “They have soap.”

This has always been the easy part​​—letting the sparks between us catch and burn.

But I’ve seen four packages arrive this week and I know the man isn’t buying duck food for himself. The smallest box contained a tiny little golfer’s hat with a bright red poof on top that Beckett snatched away as soon as he saw me with it, his cheeks a furious shade of pink.

He had hummed once, head tilting to look out over the fields. “You want a hug?” And that had been its own sort of magic, hadn’t it? He hadn’t tried to fix it. Just … asked if he could hold me through it.

Maybe this is what happy is supposed to be. A person, a place. A single moment in time. Beckett in the hallway helping me untangle the sweatshirts from around my shoulders. A family of cats jostling for our attention as we trip into the kitchen. Tea in the kettle on the stovetop and two mugs sitting side by side right next to it.

I want to talk to her about her day and then fuck her senseless up against the wall. I want to make her grilled cheese and tomato soup and then spread her out on my table.