Page 56 of Double Puck

I snap my head toward him.

“I—no. That’s not—” I stumble and hate myself for it.

He looks so fucking pleased with himself.

“Not what?” His gaze flickers down to my mouth for a second too long before meeting my eyes again.

“That kiss," I manage more evenly, "was a mistake. And you know it."

"Interesting." Beck’s grin deepens. “Because I distinctly remember someone kissing me like—” He leans a little closer, glancing over his shoulder before his voice drops to that deep gravel that nearly removes my panties for me. “Like they couldn’t stop.”

I glance toward the mansion, desperate for a distraction, but it’s pointless.

Beck is relentless. Relentless and hot.

Seriously.

He might be right.

I don't know how much longer I can resist this man.

First he crowds me in my office, muttering dangerous things about making me do things I'd never dreamed of. Then he kisses me after slowly dragging out every desire I've never so much as wished for before.

What would happen if you got to choose who you date?

The thing is… do I want to date Beck? Or do I just want to sample what that might feel like?

“Anyway…" Beck slides further down the lounger, stretching his arms above his head, letting the sun soak into every bronzed inch of his skin. Totally not helping my current spiral. “You’re terrible at pretending you didn’t like it. Good at spreadsheets, though. Speaking of, I had my first session with Poppy this morning. Should you make a note on my file?”

I turn to look at him, suddenly more interested. "Y-you did? You went to therapy? How did you go?"

Beck raises an eyebrow. "Don't sound so shocked. I'm capable of showing up to things."

"No, I know, I just—" I shake my head, resetting while swallowing a mouthful of margherita to try and gain some sense of control. "Seriously. How did it go? Are you okay?"

"Why, Darcy Madden." He presses a hand to his chest. "Is that genuine concern I detect? For me? The tradeable asset?"

I press my lips together and fight the urge to chuck a lime wedge at his head. "So. Did she make you cry?"

"No." He grins. "But the way your face just went all soft was adorable."

"It wasn't soft. It was—" Beck starts laughing before I can even finish the sentence. I roll my eyes again. "Just… Shut up. You're so annoying."

Beck laughs and leans back into his chair, soaking in the sun and looking damn good doing it.

"It was fine," he says. For a half-second, the grin slips into raw honesty. "She's good, actually. Asked me a lot of questions I didn't want to answer."

"Did you answer them?"

He squints at the sky like this requires deep thought. "Some of them."

"That's… actually good, Beck."

"Awww. There it is again. The soft voice." He turns his head on the lounger to face me, those bright blue eyes catching the sun and making my insides melt. "Keep going. Tell me I'm brave. Tell me you're proud of me. Tell me you want me to come over there and—"

“Beck!”

Zoey’s voice cuts through the air like a domestic goddess conjuring family unity. She's shouting from somewhere near the margarita station, and thank Christ she is, because I have no idea where that was going.