Never is a Promise(53)

His opposite hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back. Beau’s lips seared into the sensitive flesh of my neck, branding me kiss by kiss with his soul. Our rhythm became desperate, his kisses greedier. I lifted my ass higher, coming down onto him harder and deeper, faster and more desperate. With each impalement, I banished every thought that briefly fluttered across my brain that told me this wouldn’t work.

Rocking.

Rolling.

Grinding.

Each second brought me closer to the edge. With labored breathing and my body tightening around him, an intense explosion inside me heightened every emotion – good or bad – coursing my body.

I lowered my face, wanting to look into his eyes as he came inside me. Beau caught my bottom lip between his teeth before kissing me again and releasing a deep groan before shuddering and releasing himself.

I fell onto him, our chests heaving together and the coolness of the apartment air wrapping itself around us. With deliciously sore lips, I smiled, breathing in a sated contentment that was quickly replaced with plaguing doubts.

How funny that the boy I’d sworn off could give me one knowing look and bark out one command and I’d dropped my panties to the floor without a single objection.

“Come home with me, Dakota,” Beau said, breaking the silence that made the thoughts in my head blaring and loud. Our eyes met, locking like magnets and making me forget how to breathe for a second as the future flashed before me.

“You know I can’t do that.” I climbed off him, sitting beside him.

He pulled my legs across his lap. “You know I can’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

For ten years, I had an ache in my heart where he should’ve been. And now my heart was flooded with more Beau than I knew what to do with. My body and soul had damned the torpedoes and blasted full speed ahead without so much as consulting my head, and now I was stuck in some sort of murky area where one wrong decision could demolish the life I’d worked so hard to build.

“It’s not that simple,” I said with polished regret. “I have a contract at work. I might get promoted…”

And you might break my heart again.

Oh, and I gave our baby up for adoption ten years ago, and I’m scared you might hate me for it.

“I realize I’m offering you the world when you’ve got your own one right here,” he said, “but I don’t care. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you, Dakota. Because I don’t want anyone else.”

All the reasons it wouldn’t work flooded my mind, though they were all rooted in one thing: fear.

It was funny though, because fear had never stopped me from doing anything before. I prided myself on being fearless and brave, climbing mountains and ruthlessly pursuing dreams like my life depended on them.

But there I was, afraid to love Beau, really love him. Afraid to tell him my secret. No, I was terrified.

“This is my home now. This is my life. This is who I am. Maybe we fit together like two puzzle pieces when we were kids, but we’re not going to fit together right now without the help of a good pair of scissors and some strong glue.”

He smirked, flashing a deep dimple on his left cheek before his face fell. The afternoon sun spilled in from behind us, highlighting the grimace of his expression and hiding the scar just above his lip. “I’ll bring the scissors. You bring the glue.”

“Even if I gave you another chance, I know myself. I’ll hold you at arm’s length, one foot on the ground,” I said, adding, “because there’s always going to be a part of me waiting for you to break my heart all over again.”

“I was careless with your heart,” he said. “I was selfish and egotistical. I turned into someone I hardly recognized – someone that had the power to destroy you – and that’s why I stayed away.”

I picked at the gray Belgian linen fabric of the sofa.

“Why you don’t believe me?”

“I don’t know what I believe.”

“Damn it, girl, you’re about as decisive as a kid at an ice cream shop.” Beau ran his hand against the smoothness of my naked shin, reminding me that we’d just shared a magical moment of delicious unrestraint, which had vaporized the second it was over.

“Why now? Why after all this time?” I asked, resting my cheek against the back of the sofa and staring into his tempered gaze as he studied me.

“In ten years, no one ever made me feel half the things you did.”

I silently agreed. Every man since him, including Harrison, only ever paled in comparison. I’d told myself that love wasn’t always fireworks, and I believed my own lies enough to settle for a soft, second-rate, boring version of love instead.