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“I didn’t say those things to flirt with him. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have said those things to anyone at all.”
Beau turned her and leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m not upset with you. I’m pissed at myself. I’m sorry I was late tonight.”
“Did you have a good reason?”
He swallowed. Was it a good reason? His business felt like a good reason. But when he was standing here like this, breathing her in, her warm breath against his mouth, knowing he let her down, it didn’t feel that good. “It was work.”
She nodded. “I figured.”
He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that she knew what had kept him away.
“And I didn’t get flowers, and I was too late to pick up the chocolate-covered strawberries I ordered, and I totally forgot about the whipped cream—”
Her hands came up to grip his wrists, and she squeezed. “I don’t need flowers or whipped cream, Beau. I want you to take me back to my room and I want you to fuck me. I mean it. I want you. Tonight. No more excuses. I want this.You.”
He sucked in a breath. Hearing her tell him she wanted him was hot enough. Heat and desire unlike anything he’d ever felt before stabbed him low in the gut. But yeah, hearing Becca Bollier ask him to fuck her was something he was never going to be able say no to. She’d never said it like that before. Which was probably the only reason he’d been able to hold back.
“I’m just trying to make it perfect.” His voice was scratchy.
“Well, your idea and my idea of perfect are different,” she said. “You think we need all this other stuff. But I don’t. I just needyou.”
God, he wanted that to be true. Forever.
He knew she loved him, but he was just the first. Her first lover, her first boyfriend, the first time she’d fallen in love. Could he convince her this was it? That she should move back to Autre after graduation, marry him, make a life with him in Autre? Yes, he knew he could.
But he shouldn’t.
He’d chosen Autre. He’d given up football scholarships to three different colleges to stay home, to be there for his mom, to build a business from the ground up, with his own two hands—literally. To never leave.
And some days he wondered if he’d made the right choice.
A lot of days he wondered that.
Was he making a difference? Was he doing something important? Was he where he was supposed to be? Was Autre, Louisiana enough? Was itrightfor him?
He didn’t want Becca to limit herself. She was going to be a teacher. Shewasgoing to make a difference and do something important. And she could go anywhere to do it. He couldnottalk her into coming home to Autre for him. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life wondering if she was as happy as she could possibly be. Or if she wonderedwhat if? Or if she resented him and the small, simple life he’d seduced her into.
But he had her for tonight. And he was sure as hell going to be her first, even if he wasn’t going to be her last.
He grasped her waist, lifted her, and tossed her onto the front seat of his truck. He slammed the door, stalked around the front of the truck, and got in. “You have from here to your apartment to figure out if this is what you really want tonight. But know this,” he looked over at her. “You’re poking me. And there is a very thin thread of control holding me together tonight.”
She studied him for a moment, then a very sly, unusual grin slid across her face. “That’s very good to know.”
A shot of lust crashed over him, along with a shiver of trepidation. He might not survive a seductive, sly Becca.
It was about fifteen minutes from the house party to her apartment.
Without strawberries and whipped cream, and with her pushing his control, he needed to be sure she was ready for what lay ahead.
They pulled up to a stop light, and without looking over at her, he said, “I want your fingers in your pussy right now.”
He heard her sharp intake of air, but refused to look over. He gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.
She didn’t move or say anything.
“Becca,” he said, growling the warning. “Do it.”
In his peripheral vision, he saw her gather the skirt of her dress up and then slide her right hand under the hem.
