“Okay, what?”
“Okay, you’re Miranda. I get it. I respect it. I don’t agree with the secrecy, but that’s entirely your business.”
“You can’t tell anyone.” His mouth thinned, and his face turned grim.
“Of course not.”
“That means you’re my girl, right?” His hand drifted down my back, his tone teasing. “My woman. My muse. My—”
“Yes. Okay,” I said, interrupting him before he could come up with any other possessive noun for me.
Beckett laughed and squeezed my butt. “My Princess,” he said.
I groaned, still not entirely comfortable with the nickname. “Anything else you want to tell me?” I asked.
His fingers slipped under the hem of my shirt, pushing it up my thighs.
“You look really sexy in my shirt.” His voice was thick and gravelly. “But I like you even better without it.”
Chapter 31
Beckett undid the buttons and stripped off the shirt, then bent to lift me into his arms. In two long strides, he crossed the room to my bed.
I clung to his shoulders, pulling him with me as he put me down on the bed. I reached up and stripped off his glasses, then tossed them toward the nightstand. He braced his hands on either side of my face and leaned down to kiss me long and deep.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
I came up on my elbows, watching him squint and stumble his way across the room. Poor thing couldn’t see five feet in front of him without his glasses. It was adorable. He pulled his wallet out of his pants and plucked out a condom.
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On one hand, it was good—safety first. On the other hand, I wondered if it meant this was a regular thing for Beckett. This definitely wasn’t a regular thing for me, not at all.
“You came prepared,” I said.
“That’s me.”
He walked back to the bed, tripping over a pair of shoes and landing on the bed next to me.
“You really can’t see a thing without your glasses.”
He raised up on one elbow and skimmed his fingers up my ribs, stopping just below the swell of my breast. “I can see plenty.”
I ached for him to inch his hand higher. Then, he was kissing my mouth again, taking over, dominating. His kiss was fire, but it still couldn’t distract me from the fact that I needed his hand on my breast. Beckett teased me with featherlight touches just under the lace of my bra.
When he finally stroked along the curve of my breast, his fingers barely a whisper, I nearly cried out. His thumb grazed over my nipple and I bucked my hips.
The throb in my belly spread lower, filling me with dizzying need. Beckett wedged his knee between mine, and I lifted my hips, shamelessly riding his thigh in an attempt to quell the hunger inside me. He slid the lace down over my nipple, fingers pinching. I writhed against him.
Two could play at this game.
I flattened my palms against his broad chest. My fingers brushed over the soft curling hairs across his pecs and then lower along his ribs where his skin was silky smooth. Then lower to the rippling muscles of his abs. Even though I loved Beckett’s writing, I was very appreciative of how much time he’d spent in his home gym not writing.
His body was perfect.
I shoved both hands under the waistband of his briefs and filled my hands with his perfect ass.
Beckett hooked his fingers under the strings of my panties and tugged at them. I lifted my hips, and he peeled them off slowly and carefully.
“I’m sorry I ruined your pretty panties earlier,” he said. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”
