Chapter Twenty

NOELY

A low groan vibrates in my ear, waking me to the bright sunlight filtering through my window. In a bit of a haze, I shift on my bed and still when my hand comes in contact with another body. A warm body.

Beck.

God, last night . . .

Slipping out from under the covers, from the warm little cocoon we created, I snag the robe on the back of my door, wrap it around my body, and tiptoe out of my bedroom to the kitchen where coffee is already brewing. Thank you, automatic timer. I pour myself a cup and head to my back deck where all the debauchery started last night.

Not bothering to sit up the lounge chair from last night, I take a seat in the other lounge, bring my knees to my chest, and sip my coffee while looking over the crashing waves of the ocean.

Last night was . . . Ugh, last night was eye-opening.

It isn’t because I was with Beck, a domineering, sexy rebel, but it’s because I realize now, at the age of twenty-seven, that sex can be fun—well, oral sex for that matter. It’s never been like that. I’ve never felt so alive in the bedroom.

Yes, I’ve had an orgasm before, but nothing that’s taken over my body like last night. Nothing that had every nerve ending in my body standing on end begging for more.

From the very beginning with Beck, it’s been physical. From the way he first devoured me with one look, to the little touches here and there, to our dancing, our first kiss and dry-humping, to last night. I simply couldn’t take my hands off him.

He’s showed me that men can be addicting, that the act of physically being with someone can be addicting, and to be honest, that scares me, because I want so much more than the physical.

“There you are.” Beck’s morning voice is deep, rumbly with a hint of scratch to it. Taking a seat in front of me, exactly like last night, he holds out his hand for my coffee, and I hand it to him.

While he sips, I take him in. His hair is disheveled, giving him boyish charm. His scruff is thicker, darker, and his exposed chest is looking mighty fine as well as the unbuttoned jeans covering his legs. How is it possible for someone to wake up looking that attractive?

Five bucks says I look like Medusa right now.

Feeling slightly self-conscious, I pat down my hair when Beck is looking out to the ocean. When he turns back to me, he hands me my coffee cup.

“That’s good, thanks.” He pulls my legs down and lays them across his lap, his fingers massaging my calf muscles. “How are you doing, Sassy?”

“Good.” I smile over the rim of my coffee mug. “How about you?”

“Fantastic.”

“Good.” I nod my head awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

“Morning afters not really your thing?”

“Just, never done one before I guess, not with someone so new. And we didn’t really have sex-sex, so to me it even seems more awkward. I mean, I put my mouth on your dick, but our privates never actually touched. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“No,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Sometimes just engaging in the act of sex is all that’s needed.”

I nod, my lips pursed. “Did you not want to do it with me?” It’s an odd question to ask, but I’m curious about the holdup.

“I did, but I knew you weren’t ready. Honestly, I wanted to help you relax. I wasn’t expecting anything in return, but when you started undoing my pants, I couldn’t stop you. I wanted to feel those lips on my rock-hard cock.”

“What do you mean you knew I wasn’t ready?”

“I could see it on your eyes. You were unsure. I didn’t want to pressure you into anything. So I kept it simple.”

Thoughtful, sexy, and domineering, I should be head over heels in lust right now, but for some reason I’m not.

And I think I know why.

“Thank you, I was really nervous last night.” I bite my bottom lip and say, “I usually have more of an emotional connection with men before I jump into bed with them.”

Sitting back, Beck asks, “You don’t feel an emotional connection with me?” The pull in his brow is telling me he’s truly confused.

“I don’t mean to insult you, Beck, because you are really amazing. I know dating isn’t something I’m very experienced at, but we seem to be very physical with each other.” And it’s great, but I think I should be expecting more. I know I want more, but is that realistic?

“Nothing wrong with that, Sassy.”

His hand goes up to my knee and a part of me wants to dissolve into the lounge and let him take over, but a larger part of me stops him before he can go further.

“Why won’t you tell me about your divorce?”

That stops him.

Removing his hand from my knee, he rubs his jaw and sighs. “It’s not something I want to talk about.”

“Why? Are you still in love with her?”

He shakes his head. “Not even a little.”

Okay, there goes that theory.

I set my coffee cup on the ground next to me and press my hands against Beck’s. “Are you scared I’m going to judge you? I won’t, if that’s what you’re worried about. Getting married at such a young age—”

“It wasn’t that. We were ready when we got married. We just went our separate ways.”

Feeling a little disheartened, but wanting to be honest since I’m in this dating program for a reason, I say, “Beck, are you ready to be dating someone? You say you are, and you want to get out there, but I don’t think your heart is in it . . . or your mind.”

He’s silent for a second, his gaze cast toward the ocean. “I want to forget it all, the last eight years. I wish there was a way to wipe it from my memory.”

“Wipe what?”

He shakes his head, and I realize right then and there, no matter how much I push, how much I question him, Beck isn’t going to talk because he’s not mentally ready. If there is one thing I know well, you can’t force anyone to talk if they don’t want to.

What’s sad is, I don’t know if he will ever talk, at least to me.

We sit in silence, both our minds wandering, our euphoric night a distant memory, and our impending future closing with each breath we take. At least, that’s what I’m feeling.

“I like you,” Beck finally says. That makes me smile. He really is a wonderful man.

“I like you too.”

“But not enough, right?”

“It’s not about liking you or not, Beck, or my attraction to you, because that’s all there. In spades if I’m honest. It’s about making a connection on another level, and I don’t think you’re mentally ready for that. You need to clear out the tainted headspace you’re hanging on to.”

Huffing out a long breath, Beck runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Yeah, fuck,” I repeat, feeling sad.

“You want more.” So much.

“I want it all. The marriage, the husband, the children. I’m already there, looking for it, but I think you’re just coming out of the fog you were in.”

Laughing, he says, “Yeah, kind of not ready to be married again quite yet.”

“Understandable.” We smile at each other, a general understanding of one another passing between us.

For the next twenty minutes, we joke around, drink cold coffee, and talk about nonsense, never diving past the surface. When it’s time, I help Beck gather his things and walk him to my front door.

Turning toward me, he pulls me into a hug and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re amazing, Sassy, you know that, right?”

“I do now.” I squeeze his waist, already feeling the loss of his fresh, rebel-ish attitude.

Sighing heavily, he pulls away and tips my chin up. “If you don’t find Prince Charming right away, message me, okay?”

“Deal.”

He presses a light kiss against my lips, and with a sad, yet devastating smile, he leaves. Pressing my body against the doorjamb, my arms folded over my chest, I watch Beck mount his bike, put on his helmet, and roar the engine to life. After a tilt of his head in my direction, Beck takes off down the road and out of my life.

***

“Oh my God, Dylan, it was the cutest place I’ve ever been to. Every kitchen was different and there were professionals walking around, giving you privacy but also helping you out if you needed it. Perfect for any type of date.”

“Especially for a second date with The Rebel, right?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me and takes a drink of her mimosa.

“It was the perfect date, recommended by Going in Blind. They must have gone around the city and found every possible dating excursion, and after experiencing it for themselves, mashed it up in their system to suggest it to the right couples who would enjoy it. Genius, really.”

“So you had a good time?”

“I had an amazing time. The Rebel did most of the cooking, which was fun for me. I sat back and drank wine while he worked his way around a fifties-themed kitchen in a white frilly apron.”

“Did you get pictures?”

I shake my head, really hating this conversation, but knowing I have to have it, thanks to Kevin. I smile into the camera and shake my head. “No pictures, unfortunately.”

“That’s a bit of a fail on your part.” This makes me laugh. What I’m sharing now is most definitely the PG-13 version of what we talked about in hair and makeup. When I described what the photos would look like, because, yeah, Beck is hot, Dylan actually blushed. I’m amazed she’s holding it together now.

“Even if I took pictures, and even though I love our viewers, I wouldn’t be sharing those here. I’m sure my dating harem would like to keep their privacy.” I learned that lesson pretty darn quickly, so that last comment is aimed at Kevin. Thanks for ruining Mr. Suit’s future.

“Harem? Is that what you’re calling it?”

“It’s going to be a harem soon,” I sigh, leaning back on the couch, temporarily forgetting I’m still on camera.

Looking a little uneasy, Dylan asks, “What does that mean?”

“Ugh, I had a great time with The Rebel, like the best time ever. We clicked on so many levels, but . . .”

“But what?” Dylan is sitting on the edge of her seat, waiting for my response.

“It just didn’t work out. We’re on different wavelengths right now. But it’s okay. We ended things on a wonderful note, and I’m sure I’ll see him again. Even if it’s just as a friend. No doubt in my mind.”

“So what does this mean?”

I shrug. “Going back to the drawing board I guess. I know the right man for me is out there and honestly, Going in Blind has brought me closer to happiness than I’ve experienced in a long time.”

“So you’re going to throw your name in the hat again?”

I bring the champagne flute to my mouth and take a sip. After I swallow, I say, “I am, because as they say, third time’s the charm.”