Chapter 14
Eleanor
Beck helps me into his boat and positions me between his legs with my back to his front. He wraps one arm around me, and places his other in the water, guiding us out of the harbor the same way he has on so many other occasions.
Only this time, everything feels better, easier, more significant as a thousand new possibilities blossom in my heart.
With my sailing nerves now the teensiest fraction of what they usually are, I relax into Beck’s safe hold, his touch sending all other kinds of sensations through me as we unhurriedly make our way back toStarry Hill.
With the way Beck’s been making me feel lately, I just want to strip him naked and have my way with him tonight. But it’s much too soon for that, and exactly the reason I’ll be offering to sleep on the couch. Beck is worth so much more than a single night of lust. He deserves all the good things in the world, and I really, really want to get everything right with him. I want us to take our time, to really settle into our new dynamic, savor it all, before I allow my pussy to wrestle control from my brain.
Yet, I feel like Beck deserves a reward for rescuing me from my gloomy mood and taking me away to the place I feel the happiest in the world. Perhaps later, if we happen to be cuddling on the couch, my hands could drift south, or my mouth could, but only if he explicitly consents.
As the sun dips below the horizon behind us, Beck places his mouth right by ear, his lips skimming against the sensitive flesh as he asks, “Do you want to feel my magic?”
I turn back to look at him, wondering if it’s a euphemism for something sexy. “Your what?”
“My ocean magic. Here, give me your hand.” Beck laces our fingers and scoops me into his lap to give me better reach before lowering our joint hands into the water.
I’m still debating if I should protest sitting on top of him, always feeling a little self-conscious of my weight, but then a flurry of bubbles dance around my hand, and a preposterous giggle escapes me at the wonder of it all.
“This is amazing,” I exclaim, marveling at the sensation.
“Look at you enjoying the ocean,” Beck jokes, and presses a quick kiss to my neck.
I honestly don’t know if I should swoon or laugh, my body and brain still playing catch up with the curveball this evening has thrown at me. It’s like I’m in a dream and I don’t know what I did to deserve it.
One thing I do know is that I’m happy—full-heart, dancing-in-the-moonlight, quit-my-job-and-move-to-Starry-Hill-to-live-with-Beck-forever-and-ever levels of happy.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, my mother whispers her toxic words,Happiness doesn’t last forever, Eleanor. You need security. A good job with a good salary. The respect of your peers. All of that will lead to feelings of contentment that will sustain you much longer than the fleeting feeling of happiness.
I mentally bat her away and focus on the sensation of Beck’s hands intertwined with mine, his breath against my neck, and the comfort of his embrace, letting it all center me in the present. I want to live forthesemoments, build a catalog of happy memories I can flit through when I’ve had a shitty day, and find joy in all the small things.
For too long I believed my mother, for too long I followed her advice, thinking her way is the only way to live, hoping one day to truly make her proud of me. Now, I’m ready to shut the door on all these inaccurate beliefs, to follow my own definition of happiness, because this right here, this is it for me.
Turning my head, I slant my mouth against Beck’s and kiss him with all the gratefulness I feel for him. I’m not sure if he fully understands what he’s done for me. Not only does Beck make me feel seen, but he literally jumped tomy rescue when he thought I needed him. I want him to feel just as special, as appreciated, as valued, as he makes me feel.
When we come up for air again, our boat is drifting somewhere in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. For not even a second do I feel scared of being unmoored in the dark. Quite the opposite, in fact, as Beck presses soft, open-mouthed kisses along every inch of exposed skin he can reach while the stars blink down at us.
“So you can control water too?” I ask, aiming for a normal conversation, despite my husky voice betraying how turned on I still am.
“Yeah,” Beck answers, lowering his hand back into the water to resume our journey. “My magic is why I’ve got the mill. It supplies hydropower to all the shops in the main part of town. That’s where all the creatures used to live a long time ago, but as the population expanded, creatures needed more space, and the cottages were built around the island. We use generators for the homes because Arran doesn’t want Starry Hill to become some type of modern, overcrowded city filled with cables and wires and such. He’s not a fan of big changes.”
“He’s Starry Hill’s founder, right?” I ask, lazily tracing the scales on his arm that haven’t disappeared yet.
“Yes. He started building here about four hundred years ago, and has since given so many of us a place to call home when there weren’t a variety of good options available to us.” The pain in Beck’s voice slices through me and I squeeze his hand a little tighter.
“I’d like to meet him sometime. You sound like you care for him,” I say gently.
Beck’s smile is wistful as the familiar outline of Starry Hill comes into view. “It’s a long story, but Arran offered me the position of island guardian when I was in a fairly dark place. I owe him a lot. One day I’d like to tell you the whole story. Right now, though, I want to focus on making you happy and helping you forget the terrible day you had.”
Part of me wants to ask Beck to tell me everything now. I want to understand his pain, and help him ease it. But if he’s not ready, then I’m not going to push him. I just hope someday in the not-too-distant future he’ll be comfortable enough to tell me all of it—why he disappeared when we were kids, how he ended up here, and why everything happened.
Pulling Beck’s arm more snuggly around me, I say, “This right here, with you, this is happiness to me. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
When we get to the mill, Beck takes out the dough that’s been proving and prepares a spinach-and-artichoke filling for them. I watch, completely fascinated, as he moves around the rustic kitchen with complete ease.
Beck separates the dough into equal parts, wraps them around the filling before shaping them into perfect balls, and then pops the lot into the oven, all like it’s no big deal. He’s clearly unaware of how attractive it is to watch not only how comfortable he is in the kitchen, but also how good he is with his hands.
