What. The. Fuck?
Was he serious? She paced the kitchen for ten minutes.Their date night had changed things between them. Her nerves had been charged all night watching him, wanting him. Her hormones were all over the place, and the heat in the air between them couldn’t be denied. She was terrified she would lose control and throw herself at him, giving him everything she could but would that wreck their relationship? She didn’t think she could handle that again.Unless he gave you everything right back…
What should she do? She had been attracted to him for most of her life no matter how hard she fought it, was this her one opportunity to have him and get him out of her system? If she went in there and something happened, then they were crossing a line. Their relationship was complicated, but they were in a good place right now, could she take that risk? She wasn’t looking for anything serious and how could this not change things between them?
Maybe he was just messing with her, waiting for her in bed even now. Decision made, she headed for the door, opening it a crack. A shaft of light from the living-room illuminating her dark bedroom. Beau was in bed, on his back, already snoring softly. Definitely not waiting for her to come in and finish what they started.
That motherfucker!
*
“How late does he want to keep her out?” Beau grumbled, checking his watch for the thousandth time. It was barely ten. He tried to forget about Dean and Taylor and focus on the episode ofGBBO, groaning as yet another contestant produced a cake with a soggy bottom. Could no one bake properly? He hadn’t done any baking in forever, maybe he should try that to take his mind off things.
It had been a week since the moment he lost control and had his little foray into spanking and he had barely seen her since. Although Kayleigh was back at the bar, Taylor seemed to be spending a lot more time there. He was busy at the gym so they had only been together a few minutes each day.
Things were strained between them. He knew he shouldn’t have taken things as far as he did but he couldn’t help himself. There was so much built-up tension and frustration, and he was almost certain she had enjoyed the moment. Now he was stuck in this stalemate of wanting to make a move and see if she reciprocated but also being too scared to make it. He wasn’t sure if it was worth potentially ruining everything they were rebuilding. So, he hadn’t made a move and tension just continued to simmer, suffocating them both.
“Come on, Bethany, you should know not to attempt spun-sugar decorations this early in the competition!” he shouted at the TV. He heard Taylor’s key in the door and quickly switched channels, not wanting her to catch him watching a baking show like an old biddy; she would definitely have something to say about it. She came in, waving goodbye to Dean who had dropped her off after their dinner date as agreed.
“Good news,Teddy Beau. We’ve got a barbecue next week at Dean’s to celebrate their-” She started but her voice faded away when she turned and looked at him. Her mouth dropped open.
“What the hell are those?” she demanded, a slight growl in her tone. Her anger surprising him andshockturning him on.
“What are you talking about? What’s what?”
She stomped towards him, whipping her arm out and jabbing an accusatory finger at his face. “What are those on yourface?”
“What? Oh, my glasses?”
She nodded vehemently. He pulled them off, studying the thick square black frames.
“When did you start wearing those?” she spat.
He shrugged and pushed the frames back up his nose. “I’ve always worn them?”
She snorted, her nostrils flaring angrily. “I’ve never seen them!”
“I wear contacts?”
“Unfuckingbelievable,” she muttered.
He stood up and came towards her. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh God, what arethose?” she gasped.
“I’m wearing sweatpants. Taylor, what’s going on with you?”
“Gray sweatpants?” She shook her head.
“Why are we playing twenty questions?” he asked.
She laughed, the sound hollow. “I know what you’re doing buddy, and I’m not going to fall for it!”
He reached for her but she darted out of the way.
“No, I’m not gonna be the one to give in, that’s for damn sure!” she shouted and stomped away from him and into the bedroom. Mumbling something aboutdamn Clark Kentbefore slamming the door shut.
“Give in?” he muttered. “What the hell just happened?” He shook his head and then began his food prep for the next day. When he’d filled up his various containers and packed his gym bag he sat back on the couch. He glanced at the closed bedroom door and shook his head. Sometimes he thought he knew her and other times he had no idea what was going on in her head.
