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But he holds out his hand and I slide my palm over his and I could swoon when he brings my knuckles to his mouth and presses a soft kiss against them.
The man hasmoves.Who am I to resist them?
“Sloan, you look beautiful,” he whispers as we step into an empty elevator.
I’m feeling just naughty enough that I smile up at him. “What will you give me to push the emergency stop?”
He grins. “Woman, you’re playing with fire.”
Undoubtedly, I am, but I can’t help myself. I rub my chest against him.
“Sloan…” It’s a breath and a warning and a plea. At least, that’s how I imagine him meaning it, because in the next second he pulls me around to face him, threads his fingers into my hair, and begins a kiss that makes my pulse pound and my blood heat.
His tongue swipes the inside of mouth, slides against mine in and out as he holds me to him at my waist. His erection is pressed low into my belly and my nipples brush against his chest.
I’m ready to step out of these clothes already. But then something dings.
The doors slide open and we break apart in a hurry as another couple walks into the car. Beck moves me to stand in front of him and then nudges my ass with his erection. We stop at another floor and more people step onto the elevator but I don’t move away from Beck. I couldn’t even if I wanted to because he has his arm tight around my waist, holding me, cradling me.
We finally reach the lobby. I’m ready to head back upstairs because goodness gracious it should be illegal to be this wet in public. But the front desk has a car waiting for us and the concierge is eager to help us on our way.
Still, I keep my hand in Beck’s lap while we ride in the backseat. Silent because I’m stroking his dick and he has his hand under the skirt of my dress.
If I were a guy, my balls would be the shade of a sapphire. I can hardly think by the time we’re at the venue, but the promise of what’s to come after the concert keeps me going.
Club Rees.It’s the place to be. The lights on the marquee are bright, the line to get in is four blocks long, and everywhere you look, beautiful people are laughing and drinking and nervously waiting for the big show.
Beck leads us right to the front. He exchanges a few words with the bouncer, who bows graciously and then unhooks the velvet rope to let us bypass the crowds.
When we walk in, Beck orders us a couple drinks from the bartender—whiskey for him, virgin mocktail for me—and guides me to our table which is very near the stage and off to one side.
The concert is intimate. Just Chloë with her microphone, a guitar player and a small stage at the front of the venue. Ours is the closest table to the stage and there can’t be more than a hundred people here. As she walks out of the back from behind a curtain, she stops at our table and greets Beck by name, then leans in to kiss his cheek.
“Chloë, this is my…” He pauses for a second and I brace for something that’s gonna sting. “Girlfriend, Sloan Reeves.”
Girlfriend.I don’t know why that word is upsetting to me, but as soon as I hear it, some of the luster of the night fades. It’s a step up fromformer employee,several better thanroommate, and many orders of magnitude abovebaby incubator.
But… I don’t know. It just feels weird.
Wincing, I down my drink in one swallow and then look up at Chloë. “It’s so nice to meet you. I love your music.”
“Thank you.” She lays her hand on Beck’s arm. “You keep an eye on this one. He’s a wild child.”
Then she sashays away like a goddess made of pure light.
When she’s on stage and welcoming everyone to her show, I wave at the waitress for another drink then look at Beck.
“Relax.” He rests his hand on my knee under the table, presumably to stop it from bouncing up and down, and then he smiles. “Come on, Sloan. Enjoy the show.”
And I do because he hasn’t done anything wrong. He let her know that we’re together and he’s been perfectly attentive, holding my hand, draping his arm across the back of my chair as we sit close. There’s no reason I should feel all the jealousy that’s making me wish I didn’t like her songs and that he hadn’t brought me here.
Maybe I’m just still scared to believe in this. Inus. I want it to be real so bad that the thought of it not turning out that way is enough to choke me with terror.
But fear of losing a thing can keep you from ever having it in the first place. What’s that line:we accept the love we think we deserve?
I have to believe I deserve Beckett Daniels.
Because I want his love so bad it hurts to breathe.
