“Yeah.” I pulled in a deep breath. “It’s been a while.”
“How long?”
Unable to trust my voice, I shook my head. It had been a long time since I’d been interested in a man. My books, my dogs, and my travels fulfilled me. I didn’t need a man. I didn’t even want one. I hadn’t had a man since… well, since Cincinnati. I’d gone to bed with a man called Owen, but I hadn’t even liked him that much. Didn’t even remember his last name. I’d slept with him, then a few weeks later, I’d moved to Mossy Oak.
Beckett wasn’t just any man. He was special. He was an artist who’d written the most beautiful stories I’d ever read. He was a genius who could create something legendary out of thin air.
Beckett’s hand came to my face and caressed my cheek. “Look at me.”
I hadn’t realized my eyes were closed. I opened them, blinking up into those incredible brown eyes flecked with sparks of emerald. Tears swam in my eyes.
“It’s okay,” he said.
I nodded, searching for something to say to make this moment less poignant. “You’re too big,” I said, smiling slyly.
His eyes flared. “Maybe you’re too small.”
He shifted his hips, moving just a little, and I gasped at the pleasure it caused. His lips brushed mine, and I could feel the smile on his mouth. I lifted my hips, and he sucked in a moan. I kissed him deeper, sliding my tongue into his open mouth.
He started to move faster. Fire streaked through me. I might have cried out. I might have lost my mind.
I looked up at his eyes burning through me. They’d lost focus and had turned a hazy brown. Desire stamped his features, but I sensed the iron grip of his restraint as he held himself back.
Curving an arm under my shoulders, he let his elbow take his weight while his other hand moved to my hip, pinning me to the mattress.
He rocked into me slowly, letting our bodies adjust to each other. My mind dropped away, and my body took over. I hooked my legs around his hips and wound my arms around his neck.
Beckett set the pace, driving into me with a hard, fast rhythm. He was good at this, so good.
“I can’t believe I’m having sex with Miranda Lockhart.”
Beckett leaned back, eyes connecting with mine. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” I asked, pulling his mouth down for a kiss.
“This is me,” he said. “Us. I don’t want you thinking of anyone else.”
For the first time I understood what a toll his dual life had taken on him. He’d separated himself into pieces.
“I want every part of you.”
I watched Beckett’s eyes change as I said the words. He blinked, and I swear I witnessed the moment he let go, allowing me to see all the way to his soul. There was nothing left to hide.
He kissed me tenderly. When he pulled back, his eyes held mine, telling a story that I could read as clearly as if it was written on paper.
Planting his hands on either side of my head, he buried himself deep, moving with exquisite slowness. I could feel every pulse of his heart echo through me. His mouth came down to claim mine, branding me as his own.
Us.
No one else.
Beckett stroked into me, each movement deliberately meant to drive me wild. I writhed on the sheets, a delectable burn streaking through me as he plunged deeper with every slow stroke.
Each thrust brought me closer to a fire that threatened to destroy me. Wave after wave of pleasure surged through me until I couldn’t hold back anymore. I cried out, and Beckett fastened his mouth on mine, claiming my pleasure in a searing kiss.
I clamped down tightly on him, the ripples of my orgasm making his cock throb inside me. He tore his mouth from mine and threw his head back. The corded muscles in his neck strained, his mouth fell open, and a groan tore from his throat.
My blood raged through me, hot and wild as Beckett pulsed inside me, finally letting go of the iron grip of his control.
