“Now, get better, so I can punish you for real,” I say as I close my eyes against him, letting the steady beat of his heart lull me to sleep.
Rule #39: Bad boys don’t get what they want.
Maggie
Just as I press a piece of packing tape over the box, I feel a hand slide across my ass, making me jump with a yelp. As I spin on Beau, I give him a scowl. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
His head hangs back with a sigh. “I’ve been resting for days, and I’m going crazy. I can’t do anything. I can’t stare at my tablet for too long. Can’t help you pack. Can’t drive. Can’t fuck. What can I do?”
Turning to him, I stroke his cheek with my hand. He leans into my touch. “You can rest and heal. The doctor said two weeks, and it’s only been five days.”
“But I feel fine.” His hands wind around my waist, tugging me closer, and I’ll admit, the temptation is getting too strong to pass up. After we brought him home from the hospital, it’s been a whirlwind, and we’ve had almost no time alone. Emerson stationed himself in my box-filled living room for a whole day before I had to call Charlie and beg her to take him home. He and I have worked together for over a decade and never once butted heads. But it turns out when we’re watching over the same person, two dominant energies are a bit too much.
Beau’s mom has been coming and going, which has been…awkward, to say the least. It might be a saving grace since I think it was that awkwardness that made her leave early and show up rarely. I’ve met Marie before. It’s not like we don’t know each other, but suddenly, I’m the thirty-four-year-old woman currently dating her twenty-two-year-old son and things feel a little—or a lot—different.
Not to mention, this move is hanging in the air like a threat. We’ve swept it under the rug all week, but now I’m supposed to drive to Arizona in three days to see the club and meet with the sellers, and I have no idea if he’s still coming with me or not.
He presses his lips to my neck and kisses his way up to my ear, making my thoughts turn to mush in my head.
“Beau…” I say in warning, but it does nothing to stop him.
His hands grip my sides as he crushes his hips against me. “Come on. I’ll lie there and do nothing. I promise if you just come to bed with me and ride my dick, I’ll relax for the rest of the day without complaint.”
“You’re not listening to me.” I groan as his hand cups my breast through my shirt, giving my nipple a gentle pinch.
“I don’t even have to come. I’ll be so good.”
One hand digs into my hair as he pulls my mouth to his, tangling his soft lips with mine, and I nearly melt into the floor.
“Beau,” I gasp as I drop the tape and kiss him back. Right now, the idea of hauling him to the bedroom and dragging orgasms out of his body until he’s a gooey mess of pleasure sounds like the greatest thing in the world. At least then I’d know we’re still us and everything is going to be okay.
But that’s no guarantee. The rug we’re trying to sweep this issue under isn’t big enough to hide it anymore. So even after he drags his finger between my legs to feel how I’m soaking my leggings, I know I have to pull away from him.
It’s not easy, but I need to know.
He lets out a groan as I push his chest away, putting distance between our bodies.
“Come on…” he whines.
“We need to talk,” I say, and he tenses at those words, staring at me like I’ve just insulted him.
“About what?”
“About Phoenix,” I reply.
“What about it?” When he reaches for me again, I hold a hand up to stop him.