“Are you okay with us getting a room for the night? I don’t think we should drive in this.”
She nods, keeping her eyes on the dashboard.
I pay quickly for a room. Beth doesn’t react when I climb back into the truck. Her head is still tilted back against the seat, her eyes still distant. Detached. After parking along the side of the building in front of our room, she allows me to help her down, burrowing against my side to shield herself from the rain.
We get inside the room.
I bolt the lock behind me, securing the door, wiping the rain off my arms as Beth moves toward the bed.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I tell her, kicking my shoes off by the small table along the wall. My keys slide across the surface of the wood when I toss them.
Beth sits on the edge of the bed, her fingers tangling together in her lap, her head lowered.
I take her phone out of my pocket and place it on the quilted comforter. The bathroom door creaks as I pull it shut.
Cool water fills my hands from the tap. I splash it on my face, reaching back to squeeze the base of my neck. I stare at my reflection in the large, oval mirror above the sink. Dark smudges rim my eyes. My complexion washed out, paler than usual.
I need sleep.
After relieving myself and washing my hands, I open the door and find Beth standing next to the bed. Her hand clutching her phone. Her eyes narrowed, focused on the screen.
Fuck. Did that asshole call her?
I take a tentative step closer and she pins me with her stare. My feet stick to the carpet.
“I was texting my aunt to tell her I wouldn’t be home tonight, and I saw the last call I made, but I didn’t make it.” She looks at the phone again, then back at me. “Did you speak to my dad?”
Shit. Shit shit shit. Didn’t want her to know about that.
“Yeah.” My eyes stray from her face. I wipe my clammy palms on my jeans, suddenly nervous as hell. “I did. I called him while you were in the restroom. A lot. I woke him up.”
“He was asleep?”
“He was hung over, possibly high.” My gaze meets hers. I move, tangling my hand in her damp hair. “Beth.”
“What did you say to him?” A tear rolls down her cheek. She lowers the phone to her side, staring up at me.
I flatten my fingers against the back of her neck. “That he didn’t deserve to know you. That I would beat the shit out of him if he ever came here. I don’t know. I was pissed. I said a lot. I told him he would never hurt you again. I told him to stay away from you. To never call you. I said . . .”
Her mouth crashes against mine with an urgency I can taste. I moan as she clings to my body. Her lips are wet, damp from her tears. I suck them as we undress each other. Clothes fall to the floor, some hang off the side of the bed. We collapse into a tangled mess of limbs and fevered touches.
I lift her easily, sliding her further up the mattress.
She touches my cheek as I trap my cock between us.
“Beth.” I press her name against her jaw. My breath hitches as I enter her slowly. Stretching her. Filling her.
Mine.
“God, Beth.” I wet my lips, rocking into her. “Beth . . .”
If I could only say one word for the rest of my life . . .
She wiggles, presses her heavy tits against my chest, fists my hair and tugs it gently.
“Reed,” she moans into my mouth. Her legs catch our bodies together. Greedy hands roam down my back.
I take her slowly. There’s no rush to this. Digging my fingers into her hips, I lift her pelvis off the bed and drive into her. Deep, deeper, thrusting so goddamn slow she shakes as she stretches for me. Her hands flatten against the wooden headboard. Her eyes roll closed. My tongue swells in my mouth, preventing the filth I’m usually whispering against her skin from escaping. I drop my hands to the bed beside her head, flex my arms, and fill her. Again. Slower. We lock eyes. Our foreheads touch, damp with sweat.
“Oh my God,” she says between ragged breaths. Her legs tremble against my hips.
This is different, and she knows it. I’ve never taken her this gently before. I’ve never been this quiet. My heart’s never beaten like this.
Never. So many firsts. What is happening?
Is it because of today? It is because I’ve been a wreck all week, worrying I’d lose her? I’m exhausted, my body drained of it’s normal vigor during sex, but that’s not it. That’s not why I can’t be rough right now.
This isn’t fucking. Not this. I can’t stop looking at her. I can’t tell her how wet my dick is. I can’t ask her to suck me while I finger her ass.
I don’t want to stop.
I don’t want to come.
I don’t want anything but her.
I’ve never been this terrified.