A moment later, he collapsed against me, warm and heavy, solid and already so familiar. I wrapped my arms tighter around his back and raked my fingernails over his fevered skin.
Finally, Beckett pushed up on his elbows to claim my mouth in another long kiss. When he pulled back to look at me, his green-brown eyes were intense as always, searing through me. His eyes roamed over my face, and I knew he was taking in my swollen lips, my heavy-lidded eyes, and the flush on my cheeks—all the signs of a satisfied woman. One corner of his beautiful mouth lifted in a cocky grin. He pushed aside a stray curl and kissed my cheek.
“One more thing I should tell you,” he murmured, lips teasing the corner of my mouth.
“Hmmm?” I asked, my voice sounding just as sex-addled as I felt.
“I’m falling in love with you, Lacey,” he said.
Chapter 32
My eyes snapped open. “What did you say?”
He kissed the other corner of my mouth. “That cider really worked.” The rush of his breath caressing my lips. “I’m totally gone for you.”
“Beckett.”
He dragged his lips along my jaw to nibble at my ear. “Lacey,” he whispered, sending a bolt of lust straight through me.
His mouth felt so nice on my sensitive flesh. My name on his lips sent a rippling swell of pleasure through me, almost like another mini orgasm. Heat flooded my body.
No, Lacey. Focus…
I braced my hands on Beckett’s chest, trying not to be distracted by the warm velvet of his skin and the slabs of muscle underneath and pushed, but Beckett barely moved. His solid weight pinned me to the bed.
“You can’t say things like that,” I said, using my sternest voice—the one I usually reserved for misbehaving dogs.
“Why not?” He nuzzled my neck, beard stubble catching strands of my wayward hair.
I steeled myself and pushed harder against his chest. “Because you’re still inside me,” I said. “Everyone knows you don’t tell someone you love them during—or right after—sex.”
“Okay.” Beckett pulled back to brush his lips over mine with finality. “You’re right.” He eased back, sat up, and scooted to the side of the bed. Reaching for his glasses, he set them on his face and turned to look at me. He smiled, dimples winking. “Yep, still in love with you, and I’m at least a foot away.”
My stomach quivered, and not in the good way it usually did when Beckett was around. “Why are you telling me this?”
His brows furrowed. “Not the response I was hoping for,” he said.
“I’m sorry.” I rolled over to face him. “That was just really good sex,” I said. “Not love.”
“Just really good?”
“Fine. Fantastic sex. But it’s just endorphins. It’s not love.”
A confident smile played on his lips as Beckett leaned down to kiss my cheek. “I’ve been writing love stories for the last seven years,” he said. “I think I know what love is. Besides, I knew it before we had sex, or I wouldn’t have told you about Miranda. I just happened to be inside you when I said it.”
My heart swelled a little at that news, but I didn’t know what to say in return. I hadn’t thought Beckett could throw me for any more loops, but this was BIG. Possibly bigger than Miranda Lockhart BIG.
“Be right back.” Beckett got up from the bed and strolled into the bathroom, uncaring that I was staring at his naked ass, or maybe thinking it was to his advantage.
Which it definitely was. The man had a fine ass. The other parts were just as nice. And he looked just as good walking away as he did coming toward me.
Aware that I was possibly falling into a trap, I raised up on my elbow to watch. Each step made muscles ripple all over his body. Sparks ignited in my core where they should have been satiated. I thanked God for writer’s block if it was the cause of Beckett’s buff body.
When he closed the bathroom door, I collapsed against the pillow. I felt entirely too warm and cozy. Maybe I was drunk. But was I tipsy from that shot of vodka? Or was I drunk on Beckett?
His body enticed me. His mind fascinated me. But, love? Real romantic love? Not the kind I had for Aslan or Hyperbole’s Bookshop or a new favorite bra-and-panty set, but the kind between a man and woman? Nah! That was impossible. Love only happened in fiction.
Love wasn’t real.
