Beat dropped his open mouth into the curve of her neck just in time to catch his hoarse groan. He shook so hard with the need to come that he had to clench his teeth to keep them from chattering. His toes twisted in the mattress, his balls in his fucking stomach. He wasn’t going to make it out of this alive and while it was torture, it was also paradise. “Yes. Please,” he grunted, mentally commanding himself not to grind, not to pump. “Make me work for it. Make me work for you.”
“Wouldn’t it feel so good to keep going?” she whispered in his ear.
“Yes,” he growled through his teeth.
She constricted around him. “Too bad.”
Pain was beginning to wrap around the base of his spine. “Please. Oh fuck, you’re so tight. Squeezing me.”
“You can ride me a little longer, but don’t come.”
The words were barely out of her mouth and Beat was bearing down on her, gripping her knees and pinning them up near her shoulders, his hips pistoning, sweat pouring down his spine, the sides of his face. He only managed about ten seconds before he felt the climax zippering his balls together, tightening, tightening. You have to stop.
“Jesus Christ, I’m so ruined for this pussy.”
“Keep going.”
“No. No, it’s going to be over. You fuck so hot.”
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, almost to herself.
“Mel. Mel.”
No. Your life has enough rewards. You don’t get this, too.
He barely managed to pull out of her in time. The orgasm was like a bomb going off, pulling every tendon and muscle in his body into a taut, vibrating line. He rolled off Melody onto the mattress and buried his face in the crook of his elbow, muffling his roar, his opposite hand reaching down to help finish himself off, which was completely unnecessary as wave after wave after wave of bliss whipped through him, visions of her continuing to play in his head. Her tits bouncing, her mouth parting on whimpers, her knees in his hands. Ohhh God, it went on forever, his loins locking and releasing until his entire body went slack, heart continuing to sprint in his chest.
Bar none, the most incredible sex of his life. Nothing had ever and would ever compare. Not only was he relieved physically, but mentally. Soulfully. He’d lost consciousness and woken up in a land where nothing bad happened.
That’s how he felt at first, anyway. In those initial moments of afterglow, he marveled over the way they’d fulfilled each other perfectly on the first try.
Until that glow started to fade and he realized . . . he wished, for once, that he was capable of sharing even more. Everything, including that final moment he’d never shared with anyone else. “Hey.” With an oddly panicked feeling swamping his sternum, he turned on his side and reached for her. “Come here.” Beat wrapped his arms around Melody, drew her up against his chest, and encompassed her in a bear hug, planting kisses all over her face, neck, and shoulders. “My peach.”
With a hesitant smile, she allowed Beat to arrange her arms around his torso, her head tucked beneath his chin, his embrace a crushing death grip.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he chanted, even though it wasn’t enough.
But the next morning, he realized he didn’t have her.
Not at all.
Chapter Twenty-One
December 17
Melody wanted her bed.
She wanted her flannel pajamas and her loofah and her secret fruit snacks drawer.
She wanted to go home.
When she’d agreed to Wreck the Halls, she’d decided to take the adventure as it came. Not to worry about the outcome or ruminate over every little decision until she was blue in the face. She’d intended to shatter the walls of her comfort zone. Stir everything up so it would land differently. She’d wanted a new okay.
And she was feeling the consequences of being reckless now.
Emotional whiplash was her unofficial diagnosis and the symptoms were sitting in the back seat of the SUV that would transport them to the airport, staring straight ahead. Too dumbfounded by the last twenty-four hours to do anything but replay her uncharacteristically hasty decisions over and over again.
Not the least of which was having sex with Beat.
Although could one actually refer to what they’d done as sex?
It had been more like . . . mating?
There was none of the awkward pawing and requesting of boundaries and laboring to find the correct rhythm. She’d had an animal mindset. Give, receive, don’t think, get pleasure, give it back. Give, receive, give until the very sky was coming down. She’d expected sex with Beat to be amazing, unforgettable, orgasmic. And she’d severely underestimated it.
Shouldn’t she be glowing and blushing and preening this morning?
She’d woken up wrapped in Beat’s arms and something inside of her had been off. And being off with Beat around? That was new. It was usually the opposite.
Danielle turned in the front seat of the SUV, giving Melody a speculative once-over. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.”
Several seconds passed.
Danielle checked her watch. “The plane should be ready and waiting. You said Beat is still upstairs sleeping?”
“Yeah.” Melody shook herself out of her stupor. Somewhat. “Yeah, we went back down to the party for a while after you left for the motel last night.” Lie. “Too much tequila.”
“You mean, after you belted ‘Rattle the Cage’ and brought the house down?”
Melody forced a laugh. “Yes. After that.”
Danielle studied her. “Are you sure that’s all that happened?”
Before Melody could locate an answer, the front door of the house opened and Beat blew out into the early morning light, his hair in ninety directions, shirt still unbuttoned. His turbulent gaze searched the immediate area and homed right in on Melody where she sat in the back row of the SUV. They stared at each other through the glass for a handful of heavy seconds until she swallowed and looked away, her chest twisting like a pretzel.
Should she have stayed in bed? Been there when he woke up?
They might have made love again. God knew she would have enjoyed it.
So what was wrong with her?
Please just get me home.
A moment later, the back door of the SUV opened, shooting Melody’s heart into her mouth. Beat climbed in beside her, his inviting smoky fireplace scent filling the vehicle’s interior. If she glanced over, she would find him staring at her with that singular intensity. The warmth on her cheek and some unnamed intuition told her so.
Joseph settled in the middle row, hefting the camera up onto his shoulder. “Starting the live stream in three—”
“Wait,” Beat clipped, tipping up Melody’s chin. “Hey. Look at me.”
She steeled herself before doing as he asked.
Whatever Beat saw caused some of the color to leave his face. “What’s wrong, Peach?”
“I don’t know,” she said, honestly.
“Okay.” He lowered his voice another octave, so it would only reach Melody’s ears, a flicker of dread in his gaze. “Did I hurt you last night?”
“No. God, no. Nothing like that.”
Air escaped him in a gust.
All right, she was worrying him. Being vague and evasive, which wasn’t fair when he was clearly worried. What was wrong? She needed to figure out a way to say it out loud, put it on the table. “I guess . . . I loved what we did last night. Every second. It was perfect. But . . .” Hyperaware of the other two people in the SUV, she leaned over to speak near Beat’s ear. “You told me on the plane that you don’t want to let anyone in . . . at the end. And that’s your right. That’s totally okay, but I didn’t expect it to make me feel so . . . lonely.”