Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)(46)
It’s agonizing to hear Beau struggle only a few feet from where I’m lying.
At 2:11, we’re both haunted. Me, by the way I felt captured in his hold, coming apart above him while he whispered my name against my hair. Him by … well, I’m not entirely sure. But I can guess.
Either way, I want to rewrite 2:11 into something different for us. We’re stuck together in this little arrangement, and it doesn’t need to be this awkward.
Or maybe it’s just me being awkward because I can’t masturbate without thinking of that night.
“Okay,” I grumble to myself and shake away the arousal that sweeps through me every time I recall the way he gripped my hair while he kneaded my ass. I’ve never felt so needed. “Let’s do this.”
I roll from my bed, grab the bag I set near the door, and pad across the hallway, checking my watch.
2:02.
I knock on his door firmly but with a measured pace, wanting to wake him up while avoiding any sense of urgency that will freak him out. Beau doesn’t need any extra freaking out—he already does that on his own.
It occurred to me today, as he tended to my finger and then sat vigil while I finished out my shift, that he’s become hyper-fixated on taking care of me.
But who is taking care of him?
I hear rustling and knock again.
2:03.
“Beau, get up.” I keep my voice light and airy.
“Bailey?” He’s up and at the door like a shot, ripping it open. My mouth goes dry when he towers over me, wearing nothing but his boxers.
I secretly hoped he’d be naked again. No one has ever looked as good naked as Beau Eaton.
“What’s wrong?” His hand lands on my shoulder, drawing me close as he leans out the door and checks both directions of the hallway, assessing for danger.
I place a gentle palm against his chest and give it a reassuring pat. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
His chin drops now as he looks me over. “Go where?”
“Swimming.”
His face scrunches in confusion, hand still branding me where his fingers curl over onto my back. “What time is it?”
I check my watch. Again. “It’s 2:04.”
“Why would I want to go swimming now?”
My head tilts as I consider what to say to him next. “Because it seems a lot more fun than hitting 2:11 and screaming in your bed. For both of us.”
His hand drops from my shoulder and his eyes trace my features in the darkened hallway. His gaze is steely in both color and intensity, more than I can withstand.
I turn and wave a hand over my shoulder. “Let’s go, soldier. I’m not even planning on wearing a bathing suit.”
19
Beau
I follow Bailey to the river’s edge, not sure what to say to her. And not strong enough to say no.
I’m not even strong enough to look away when she casually undresses. Instead, I admire the smooth curves of her bare skin highlighted by the soft glow of the moon.
She doesn’t spare me a glance as she slips into the black water. The gentle sound of it bubbling and rushing creates a sense of privacy. It seems strange to think we just happened upon each other in this exact place not so long ago. That she’s been swimming naked in front of my house for who knows how many years.
“You gonna come in?” she calls once she’s submerged enough to cover just over her nipples. She’s like a goddess with the swells of her breasts on display, the tips of her long hair plastered over her collarbones.
I have no idea what I’m doing. I feel out of my element. Out of control around her.
Consumed by that night, by the guilt of going too far, and by the knowledge that it plays on repeat in my mind twenty-four seven.
I still wake up at 2:11, distraught. Except now, by 2:15, I’m fisting my cock and dreaming about sliding it into her.
Skinny dipping with her might be a bad idea, but I can’t stomach the idea of telling her no again, so I start undressing. I kick my shoes off and face her full on, half expecting her to turn and shy away from me exposing myself.
But she doesn’t.
She watches with rapt fascination, a blatant level of interest as I slide my boxers down over my hips and let them fall at my feet. I toss them onto the log where she discarded her pajamas and make my way toward the water. My eyes stay on her face, while hers focus on my dick.
“Is your penis normal big? Or like … ” She worries her bottom lip before holding her hands up in that twelve-inch spread again. “Big big?”
“Bailey.” I shake my head, my voice disbelieving and gruff all at once. “You can’t just ask people things like that.”
She presses her lips together and blinks away from my cock before moving onto her back to float. “Why not? You just stripped in front of me. And we’re engaged. And I practically sat on it the other night. It seems like a reasonable question to me.”
I groan as I slip into the water. “Trust me, Bailey. If you sat on it the other night, you’d still be feeling it today.”
She jolts back upright as I approach her, eyes wide and dancing with interest. “Does that mean it’s big, big?”
A deep chuckle rumbles in my chest. Being able to laugh anywhere around 2:11 is a fucking treat. “Yeah, Bailey. It’s big, big.”