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He lifts one of his hands and rubs my face in return. “You’re so perfect. I think I might be in love with you, but don’t tell Amanda. I don’t want to scare her away. I don’t want her to leave me.”
As he finishes the sentence, his face falls to the side and he passes out cold. I continue cleaning his wounds as carefully as I can.
When I’m done, I try to undress him, but he’s like dead weight. I can’t lift any part of him, so I simply lay a blanket over him and get into the bed.
I turn and look at him. Even in his sleep, he looks worried. Something is weighing on him. I wonder if I know him as well as I think I do.
BECKETT
I wake in the morning wrapped around Amanda’s little body. My hands are under her shirt. She has the best tits. I’m dying to explore them fully.
I can’t help but tweak her nipples a bit. She mumbles, “I know you’re not sleepfucking.”
I chuckle. “Damn, I never should have admitted that to you.”
She giggles before turning around and facing me. I decide to leave my hands on her tits, but when she gives me an incredulous look, I reluctantly pull them away. I may also pout a little bit.
She touches the side of my face. “Does it hurt?”
Oh shit. I forgot about that. I look down. I’m still in my clothes from last night. “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would. You must have superhuman healing powers.”
“I’m kind of like Superman. Maybe Batman. Who’s the sexiest superhero?”
“Stop joking. Tell me what happened.”
I sit up. Ooh. My head hurts. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“You showed up in the middle of the night, wasted, looking like you went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson. Consider me officially worried.”
“You’ve seen me train. I fight from time to time. It’s not a big deal.”
“I thought you sparred to keep in shape, not to actually fight people.”
“Sometimes I like to fight.”
“You’re the dumbest smart person I know. Why do youlike to fight?”
I lean my head back on the headboard. I close my eyes, hoping she’ll forget her line of questioning.
“Beckett!”
Damn. She didn’t forget.
“The men in the ring with me don’t give a crap about my name or status. I’m just their enemy in that moment. It’s refreshing.”
“What about pain? Last night you said something about needing to feel pain.”
I have a big mouth when I drink. Standing, I say, “I don’t have time for this. I need to shower and get to work.”
“I don’t want you fighting.”
I turn back to her. “Well, you have no fucking say in what I do. We’re not married. We’re not even dating.”
Like a child, I storm off into the bathroom and take a long, hot shower, full of shame for the way I treated her.
When I’m dressed for the day, I find Amanda and Andie in the studio painting. They have such a seamless, easy relationship.
