Page 44 of Filthy Player
“And I don’t give a shit. We’ll make the time. We’ll figure it out, but if you’re not pushing me away because you think I’m an asshole or you’re not attracted to me — and don’t even think about lying and saying you aren’t because I still remember the way you lit up for me last week — then you’re not ending this, and you’re definitely not going to do it using your father as an excuse.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” His hand on my neck tightened. His humor evaporated until I felt the icy chill of his serious gaze. Good Lord, this must have been his game face. If I saw him on the field looking this intense, I’d pee my pants. “And I’m not letting you. More so, I bet if I went in and told Sam, he won’t let you use him as an excuse, either.”
My hackles rose. The stupid, bossy man. “Maybe neither of you have a say in it, either. It’s my life and mine to choose to live how I want.”
“Yeah?” he challenged. “Then when are you going to start living it?”
His question was a slap to the face and anger from his accusation simmered in my veins. “Beaux—”
This time my warning was exactly as I intended but he interrupted me.
“So, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to let someone step up and help you out. You got me, the team, Mike, and the guys at the garage. You have neighbors that will help him out. You’re going to take some time off the restaurant so you can be with your dad at night, and then, you’re going to trust me to take care of the rest.”
I shook my head. He couldn’t step in and do this. “I can’t not work, Beaux.”
“Trust me.” His hands framed my cheeks, holding me steady. “I want to help you, Paige. Just let me.”
“Why? Why would you do that?” No one else ever had and I’d known this guy for mere weeks.
“Because,” his grin went wicked again, “I like you, and I’m not afraid to say it. I didn’t just enjoy our time together, I fucking loved it. I want more of it. And if you’re ending things because we don’t have a lot of time, that’s not a good reason for me to stop seeing where this could go between us.”
I fought the urge to melt against him. Breaking it off with him was the right thing to do.
Listening to him felt better.
I slid my hand to his chest and up to his shoulder. His muscles tensed beneath the jacket of his suit. The man was pretty hard to say no to, especially when saying yes sounded like so much more fun.
I brushed my fingers over the knot of his loosened black tie and tugged. “You know, you’re making it very hard to break things off with you.”
He tipped my chin up until our gazes met. Narrowed blue eyes hit me with the force of hurricane right before he leaned in closer. “Then don’t.”
His lips brushed against mine; stealing all my rehearsed arguments. God help me if I was becoming a mushy little girl who wanted a man to take care of her, but the hope of such a promise was too large to ignore. He kissed me again and I was gone, lost in him, the hardness of his body, the strength of his soul, the scent of his cologne and the taste of his mouth.
“Okay,” I whispered, brushing my lips against his.
I could kiss him until the sun rose and not regret a single moment of lost sleep.
“Good. Now stop fighting me, let me fucking help you, and kiss me again.”
I complied instantly. I surrendered to my desire to lean on him and melt into him and I shifted my body until our chests aligned. I reveled in the feel of his heart beating against my chest, the calluses on his palm scraping my cheeks, the warmth of his lips as we kissed for minutes, hours.
“Come on,” Beaux said, and he grabbed my backside, hefting me to his hips as he stood. “I’m fucking wiped.”
My eyes popped open. “You can’t stay here.”
“Thought you weren’t going to fight me anymore.” He kissed my nose and walked toward my front door.
“But, my dad, and … us… and you…” I’d never brought a man home, not overnight anyway. I was pretty certain my dad would be the kind of guy to sleep with a shotgun next to him and one eye open if I did.
I explained it to Beaux as he had his hand on the doorknob. “Trust me, Paige. He’s not going to shoot me, and I’m not going to disrespect the guy in his own home, anyway.”
“Oh.” It made sense. I couldn’t stop the spring of disappointment. Beaux must have caught it in my tone because he kissed me again as he pulled open the door.
“Nice to know you wanted it, though.”
“I didn’t.”
