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‘What?’ I pant, rolling on to my back too, kicking off my shoes when it registers they’re still gracing my feet.
His chest rises and falls on long, strenuous breathes, his soaked face frowning. ‘That was better than seeing Brent’s face when he finds out he’s spent fifty million on a lump of marble.’
Every other muscle has failed me, but that right there makes my face muscles twitch. Because I know how much Becker would enjoy that face. ‘It was good.’
‘Good?’ He lets his head flop to the side until he finds my eyes, bringing his knee up to rest the sole of his foot on the floor, his palm on his rippling stomach. His hair is all mussed up, sexy as fucking hell. ‘That wasn’t good, princess. That just blew my fucking world in two.’
The twitching of my mouth transforms into a full-blown smile. I feel good. So, so bloody good, like I could run through London naked and not give a shit. Because I, Eleanor Cole, have just blown Becker Hunt’s world in two – a man who I expect has been blown by half of London before he blew their world in two and fucked them stupid.
‘Me and you have something pretty fucking phenomenal, princess.’ It’s like he knows I needed to hear that. Like he’s telling me no other woman compares. Chemistry. He’s talking about chemistry, and Becker and I have it by the bucket load. Tons of the stuff. The thought of anyone experiencing what I just had with him sticks in my throat like an old oak tree. A huge fucking oak tree. My nose wrinkles in revulsion.
‘All right?’ He rolls on to his side and cheekily pinches my nipple, snapping me from my uninvited thoughts.
‘Very.’
He grins. ‘Of course you are. You just hit a ten on the pleasure scale.’
I scoff and bat his hand away, earning a snarl and a harder tweak. ‘Ouch.’
‘Mine.’ He raises his eyebrows, daring me to correct him. ‘All of it.’
I don’t argue. Wouldn’t dream of it, because madly and quite unexpectedly, I want this cheeky maverick twat to take it all. So, I lie here and let him touch what he deems his. Me. And I hope beyond all hope, more than anything I’ve ever hoped for, that Becker might accept himself as mine. It’s an alien prospect with a whole heap of complications attached to its arse. Me and Becker. Becker and Me. Secrets, Becker and me. The Haven, Becker and me. Here. Us. Working and screwing and . . . loving.
Loving?
‘All right?’ He asks the same question again, pressing the pad of his finger under my chin and lifting it, searching my eyes. His observation of my deep thinking disturbs me, and I find my cowardly arse shying away from the inquisitiveness in his stare and, more importantly, the direction of my thoughts.
Stupid thoughts.
‘I’m fine,’ I squeak. I sound like a startled cat.
‘You sure?’ He’s suspicious. Understandably.
I decide it’s probably wise to keep my mouth shut before I clue him in on any more of the silly thoughts that are stinging me like a swarm of jellyfish. Repeatedly. Over and over. Relentlessly. Ouch. ‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ He lands a chaste, almost loving kiss, slap bang on my lips, biting down gently before he pulls away, dragging my bottom lip with him. He grins and releases, then rolls over swiftly and sends me cross-eyed when he stands slowly above me, like Poseidon breaking the waves of the sea and rising. He looks glorious. Powerful and strong. Lickable. Edible.
‘Make yourself comfy. I’m going to use the bathroom.’ He makes to turn but pauses, pouting his lips. ‘You haven’t seen my arse naked yet, have you?’
Becker’s observation serves as a trigger and has me propping myself up on my elbows, interested, and likely to explode with delight when I get to see it. His arse. Bare. ‘Nooooo.’ I drag the word out for ever, dropping my eyes to his crotch, seeing straight past the beauty of his cock and imagining the beauty of his lovely arse. I’ve felt it naked. I’ve squeezed it. And it felt pretty damn good. I’m chewing the inside of my lip when I muster up the willpower to drag my eyes away.
His lip has curved at one corner. ‘Enjoy,’ he says brazenly, cockily and, with 100 per cent confidence that I will, he turns and wanders away.
Oh my, I do. My head tilts to the side in admiration, my lip worrying through my teeth as I fall into a trance. My eyes struggle to decide what to look at. His incredible arse, or that magnificent tattoo spanning his strong back. Surprisingly, given my love of his arse, my eyes fix on his back and that colossal tattoo. I squint, trying to figure out all the lines and shadows in the dim light, but he disappears into the bathroom before I can zoom in. I pout to myself and spend a few minutes getting my heartbeats back to a safe pace.
