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The guys have their eyes focused on the video and Maverick says, “I know Mr. Fitch. This is way too sinister for him to plan. There’s got to be more.”
Beau calls Ben and asks him to do a deep dive into Mr. Fitch and his distillery.
“Beau, can you stay in Nashville with me until I get cleared?” Beckett asks as he runs he rolls up the sleeves of his button-down, revealing a sketch of Beau and me tattooed on his forearm, covering so many scars.
Faintly, I hear Beau say, “Of course.”
My thoughts are interrupted by Maverick announcing that our limo is outside and will take us to the hotel.
The ride to the hotel is quiet. All the couples huddled together except Wynter and Beckett. They have their heads resting on the black leather seat.
When we get to our hotel room, Beau sits on the edge of the bed. “Come here.”
I saunter over stopping between his knees. His hands skim the sides of my dress, landing on my hips. His jaw is set and his eyes are needy. It’s the first time I've seen Beau Landry completely vulnerable. I run my fingernails through his short bristly hairs above his ears.
“Your dress is torn. I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time.”
“You did.”
“No, Beckett did.”
“That’s because he’s part of you. He feels what you feel. He had the advantage of keeping me in his sight because he doesn’t love me like you do. I’m glad you’re distracted by me. I’m glad you get lost in my eyes. I’m happy you trust me to go to the bathroom by myself. You can’t be with me every minute of the day.”
With that being said, a half-laugh escapes his lips. “I’m your bodyguard.”
“No. You’re my boyfriend.”
He rewards me with a warm incandescent smile. “Nessa? You don’t need this dress, do you?”
Before I can say no, he pinches the seam where it’s ripped and slowly tears the fabric away from my body. His lips trail behind his hands praising my body and skin. “Your skin is as sweet as the nectar from our favorite honeysuckle and as smooth as its petals. How did I ever think I could live without tasting you—touching you?”
The flat of his tongue licks from the bottom of my breast to the center nub and circles it with the tip. He’s striking my heightened nerves, and I can barely tolerate it. I’m on the precipice of shoving his head between my legs.
He rises from the bed, unbuttoning his shirt, and then he lets it drop to the floor. He’s all man but underneath is still the preteen that smiled at me during assembly. The teenager that climbed up on the press box with me. The young man that professed his love and intentions on Love Lock Bridge. I’m standing in front of a man who has loved me completely since we were twelve.
I rake his pants and boxers down, letting them puddle around his feet, then I turn him around. “I was always yours, even when you didn’t think so.” I kiss the shoulder blade with my silhouette engraved into his skin.
Exploring the back of his body with my fingers and lips, I kiss every scar. They’re a shade or two lighter than the rest of his skin.
“Vanessa.” Beau tenses. So far he hasn’t let me really touch them. He has only let me skim over them but not really look.
“They’re beautiful. Signs of your bravery. Scars from loving your country and the men who fought beside you.” I work my way down to the one on his hip and buttocks. “What happened?”
I ask as I continue kissing the back of his strong thighs. Running my hand between his legs, I cup his balls and the groan in his throat is enough to soak me.
“Too much. I promise, I’ll tell you everything just not tonight.”
He pivots and strokes himself a couple of times, but then lifts me to my feet. And takes me against the wall beside the bathroom. When we’re both veiled in sweat, I feel his dick twitch, so I pull it out and he comes in my hand.
He grins and says, “Your adventurous spiritcomes in handy.”
After a shower and more lovemaking, he tucks me into bed with wet curls webbing across the pillowcase. Our heads are together. “Beau, did you give the tattoo artist a picture of me?”
With just the light shining from underneath the bathroom door, his blue eyes are bright. It’s the first time I haven’t seen sadness in them.
“The night before I left for basic training. I told you I found tons of sketches of you in Beckett’s room. I took a few to remind me of how you both betrayed me.”
“I didn’t betray you.”
