Beckham let out a dark, knowing chuckle, making me close my eyes as my blush wanted to surface even more.Beckham doesn’t laugh.Yet when he does, it makes him look more dominating, human, and dangerous… all at the same time.
“As afriend, Flower.” He said it like a joke, but his grip on my waist told a different story.
I sighed as I turned away from him and walked over to my desk. I ignored Kira’s eyes as I shut off my computer and grabbed my belongings.
“Call me if anything goes wrong,” I told Kira. “I’ll be in tomorrow to go over some things.”
Walking past Beckham, I listened to his footsteps as he followed me to his car. He opened the front door for me, and I took a seat.
I sighed as he placed the seatbelt over me, and he closed the door before he walked over to his side.
Throughout the entire car ride, I weighed the pros and cons of going to dinner with him at his place.
Pro…Why am I going with pros first?!
Con: I spend more time with a man who’s trying to blackmail me.
Pro: Free dinner.
CON!: I risk digging myself a deeper hole as I open the door for a deranged man to make me cheat on my husband.
Pro:The hole is already dug.
Upon arriving at my home, Beckham got straight out of the car and opened my door for me. As I went to stand, I watched him go to the trunk, and he grabbed the majority, if not all, of the bags I had accumulated.
“Mind getting the door, Flower?”
I walked over to the front door to unlock it. I stepped inside, him following behind, a bit too close for comfort. He barely seemed to struggle with the damn near twenty bags in his hands.
At the kitchen counter, he placed the bags down, and I washed my hands in the sink and went to dry them when I felt him hovering over me. He placed his hands on the counter, and I sighed as he breathed me in before placing a kiss on my shoulder.
“You still haven’t said yes to dinner…” he muttered.
I turned to look at him as I crossed my arms. “You’re literally insufferable, Beckham. This feels like having to say no to a child. Why do you even want to have dinner?”
“Why not?” he questioned.
I pushed him away as I went over to the kitchen island. I heard him sigh as I opened the bags, taking everything out to be organized.
As I reached the top shelf to put away the cereal, I jumped as his arm wrapped around me from behind.
I had half a mind to push him away, yet a smile couldn’t help but surface. I felt ticklish as he ran his hand up and down my side. I tried to cough to hide my giggles, and he turned me around in his hold and pulled me closer as I rested my hands on his chest.
“That’s why I want to have dinner.”
“To what? See me smile?” I asked.
“Yes,” was all he said, and I sighed as he pulled me closer. “To hear your voice…” he continued, his fingers brushing over my cheek, “hear your laugh… hear you joke. Just this once.”
I already felt my body urging me to say yes… feeling smitten by his words and his gestures all over again.
“I don’t believe… that it would be just this once,” I whispered, and he hummed.
“You shouldn’t.”
I… I don’t entirely know how I get myself into these kinds of situations. It’s almost as if my mind turns to mush when I need to make rational decisions, and all thoughts about my “happy wife life” go out of the door.
Almost as if I wasn’t a happy wife. And holding Beckham’s hand as he walked me over to his home while he held my overnight bag seemed to clarify that statement.I wasn’t a happy wife.
