Eden

Having dinner with Stella and Paul Beckett has been fascinating. First, they were right—the food was incredible. Second, they’re the most affectionate couple I’ve ever known. My parents loved each other, but my father was never an over-the-top alpha the way Mr. Beckett is. I find it fascinating—and sad. It makes no sense for Donovan to be as closed off as he is with the example of love he has right in front of him. That means that whatever made him this way happened once he was an adult.

Out in the parking lot, I stop with the Becketts at their car while Donovan runs to mine and retrieves the muffins he brought for his mom. Stella tells me that she’ll talk to me soon, which makes us all chuckle because we all know she’s right. I’ll likely as not be talking to her tomorrow when she calls Margie. Paul and Stella each give me a brief hug before they embrace their son. He returns their affection without any hesitation, something that makes me feel hopeful for him. He does have a heart and he does care—and more than that, maybe he cares about me. After all, he’s agreed to being friends and he brought me out today to make me feel better. Once his parents have pulled out of the lot and turned to leave, Donovan and I go back to my car.

“You were right about the food,” I tell him as we walk. “I loved it.”

He gives me a wry look. “I could tell by the way you went after the steamed dumplings. I’m not sure how you’re not about to puke, Shortstack. I didn’t think you’d eat much after the way you housed those pretzels, not to mention that disgusting shit with the popcorn and the mustard,” he says with a dramatic shudder.

“You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it first,” I tease. “And really, I can’t believe you were too chicken to try it,” I continue as we arrive at my car. You know—”

“Holy shit! Beckett?”

Looking to where the voice came from I see a man who looks to be Donovan’s age slamming his car door shut and hurrying toward us. When I turn back to Donovan, I immediately note that the relaxation of the day has gone. His expression is wary, and I can tell he’s not happy to see whoever this is.

“Uh, yeah. Hey Jerry.”

“Man, I can’t believe it’s you,” the shorter man says excitedly. “It’s been so long since anyone’s seen you it’s almost like you never existed at all.”

Donovan makes a sound that is neither agreement or disagreement. Other than that, he doesn’t acknowledge what Jerry said at all.

“Is it true you’re a skip tracer now?”

“Yeah.”

“Big change from the department,” Jerry muses. “You wouldn’t believe what’s going on there now. Styles got promoted to Captain and things are a mess. More stress than there was back when we started, but I still couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Do you miss it at all?”

At my side, Donovan has gone from tense to rigid. “No,” he answers, his tone flat and devoid of any personality.

Jerry shifts uncomfortably, his smile dimming. “Oh. Yeah, I should’ve known… I mean, with everything … Fuck, man. I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine.”

Did I say rigid? Because Donovan isn’t just unmoving—he’s essentially morphed into a marble statue. A flock of pigeons could land on him right now and I doubt he’d move a muscle. Seconds pass in silence, neither man saying anything. My heart thunders in my chest as I wait to see what happens next.

“So… who’s this?” Jerry asks with a gesture at me.

It’s like his words plug Donovan back into reality. He narrows his eyes at Jerry and then glances down at me. “She’s no one,” he says with a shrug.

I suck in a shocked breath as his words hit me like a slap to the face. No one?

“Oh. I, uh, thought maybe she was your girlfriend or… maybe even your wife,” Jerry mumbles.

“God no,” Donovan spits. “Like I said, she’s no one. I’m out of here, Jerry. See you around.”

He then stomps off without another word, leaving me standing like a goddamn idiot in front of Jerry, who looks almost as mortified as I feel. It’s like I’m frozen in place, my body unable to move. What the hell just happened?

“I’m sorry about that,” Jerry says as he takes a few steps back.

I nod but say nothing as he pivots and heads for the restaurant. The sound of my car’s horn tooting makes me jump like a scalded cat. Jesus. On top of calling me no one, twice, now he’s honking my own goddamn horn at me. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, like I’m a live wire. Taking a centering breath, I try to calm myself. I need to get home and away from Donovan Beckett as soon as humanly possible because I’m maybe four seconds away from losing my shit and I will absolutely, positively not give him the satisfaction. Stomping down the side of the car I yank the door open, climb in and slam it shut. Ignoring him completely, I lean into the back seat and yank my purse out from its hiding spot before I sit forward and buckle myself in. Pulling my cell phone out so I can use it to avoid looking at Donovan, I wince when I see I have a bunch of texts from Julie. Ignoring them, I exit my messages. I can’t deal with those right now.

I tap the button for the Bejeweled app and start a game. Although my thumb is moving across the screen, I’m not paying any attention. This is nothing more than a tool to give me some much-needed space, a reason to ignore Donovan. As long as I look occupied, I’ve got a reason to be silent. It’s deathly quiet in the car, but I think if I heard music right now I’d lose it. I’m too wound up to do anything other than sit here and count down the minutes until we’re back at the market so that Donovan can get his car and I can get away from him.

Glancing at the clock on my phone, I stifle a groan. It’s only been eight minutes since we left the restaurant—which means there’s a bit less than an hour to go.

“Eden…”

I stiffen, unable to believe that he thinks I want to hear anything he has to say ever again. Turning toward the window, I continue pretending to play.

“Please don’t ignore me,” he says in a strangled voice.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek and say nothing. Several tense minutes pass as I go right on ignoring him. I jump about a mile when he slams his fist against the wheel.

“Fuck!”

I hold steady, refusing to look at him. I’m so deep into ignoring him that it takes me a few minutes to realize he’s pulled off the highway. I only clue in when I notice that we’re on a road without any other cars in sight.

Gritting my teeth, I summon up the strength to speak to him. “What’re you doing?”

He ignores me, gunning the engine toward God only knows where. My level of anger rises as he pulls off into the parking lot of a body shop. Driving around back he pulls into a spot, slams the car into park, turns the engine off, undoes his seatbelt and turns to me.

“Look, I’m sorry that you’re mad,” he says.

My level of anger quadruples and as it does, my ability to bite my tongue snaps like a twig.

“You’re sorry that I’m mad?” I ask with a harsh laugh. “Not that you said it—but that I’m mad about it. Way to take responsibility, asshole. Quite frankly, I don’t know why you’re pretending to give a rat’s ass,” I spit. “You should be thrilled that little miss nobody won’t be bothering you anymore.”

He looks like a caged animal, uncomfortable in his own skin. “I didn’t mean it in that way—”

“Bullshit,” I snap as I toss my phone onto the dash, not caring that it might crack the screen. “If you find me so abhorrent you never should have been nice to me in the first place. I don’t know if you get off on being a dick or what and quite frankly, I don’t care anymore. Once we get back to town, I’ll never say another word to you. Even if I find you on fire in the middle of the road, I won’t spit on you to help put out the flames. This little nobody is done.”

His eyes flash as he looks over at me. “Stop,” he says in a rough voice. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. Shut your mouth and drive, asshole.”

It happens so fast I don’t have time to process it. Tucking two fingers beneath my chin, he tilts my head so I’m looking at him.

“I didn’t fucking mean it. I just… he caught me off guard and I didn’t feel like talking to him. Who and what you are to me was none of his fucking business.”

I jerk my chin away from his fingers and glare at him. “And what, pray tell, am I to you, Donovan?”

He jerks back, apparently surprised by the question, but says nothing.

“Look at you trying to find a more pleasant way to say no one,” I seethe. “Just let it go. I’m no one to you, Donovan. And you know what? You’re nothing to me, eith—”

My tirade is cut off when he reaches up, grabs the back of my neck and jerks me forward before he slams his mouth down on mine. I gasp, which allows him to plunge his tongue inside and my tongue meets his without my even thinking about it. The power of his kiss causes my entire body to jolt like a ripcord has been pulled. Never in my life have I felt anything like the carnality and emotion of this, the sensation of being untethered to anything but him so extreme I briefly wonder if there’s an earthquake, then realize it’s not the earth shifting beneath me. It’s just Donovan.

When I lift my hands to his shoulders to hold onto him, he lets out a tortured moan that makes my sex throb. I’m dimly aware of a clicking sound that I ignore. Only when he lifts me up and onto his lap, one leg on either side of his, do I realize the sound had been him undoing my seatbelt. The hand at the back of my neck stays firmly in place, like an anchor, but he uses the other hand to cup my cheek. It’s a perfect example of the dichotomy of this frustrating man—half aggressive, half tender. My train of thought derails completely when he starts tenderly rubbing his thumb over my cheekbone.

I slide my hands from his shoulders up to the base of his neck and then into his hair. He groans at the new contact and kisses me even more desperately as I shift against him, doing what I can to get closer to him. The feel of his rigid length beneath me is enough to make me crazy. My stiffened nipples prickle as they rub against the lace of my bra when I move against him, loving the way my clit pulses with my rocking motions. I don’t even care that I keep banging into the damn steering wheel—all I want to do is feel this man beneath me.

Taking his hands from their positions at my neck and on my cheek, he settles his hands on either side of my waist. I whimper as he takes control, using his grip to move me faster. My heart thunders against my chest as I hold onto his neck, moaning into his mouth as he kisses me like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. My clit tingles harder as he rocks me and it hits me that my body is no longer truly under my control. Holy crap—I’m going to come from this.

The need for more oxygen is so overwhelming that I have no choice but to tear my mouth from his. His eyes open as I gasp for air, my chest heaving as he grips my waist even more firmly. He stares at me with a look that I feel in every cell of my body. “Fuck, Eden,” he says in a strangled voice.

The way he says my name is my undoing. My body shudders as the biggest orgasm I’ve ever experienced hits me. Biting my lip, I tilt my head back as my eyes close.

“Look at me,” he commands. “I need to see you, Angel.”

My breath catches at the endearment as I whimper but comply, righting my head so I can meet his gaze. Even in the darkness, I can see the warmth in his eyes, so different from normal. “Donovan. God, Donovan.”

It’s harder than it sounds to maintain eye contact while my body rides the wave, but I do it. It feels like there’s something major happening here, something transformative and, at least for me, life altering. My clit continues to tingle with aftershocks as I drop my forehead to his, the sound of our ragged breaths filling the car. Scooting my bottom back I reach between us and cup my hand against his hardness. “It’s your turn,” I whisper against his lips.

He shudders and hisses out a harsh breath. “You don’t need—”

I bite down on his lower lip and tug at it before soothing my tongue across it. “I want to,” I tell him. “Let me feel you.”

He groans as he reaches between us. Looking down, I watch the way his fingers shake as he fumbles with first the button and then the zipper of his jeans. My already ragged breath starts coming even faster when he reaches into his boxer briefs and pulls his cock out. Eyes wide, I take in how large he is. This shouldn’t be a surprise considering how freaking tall he is, but somehow I’m still caught off guard. Hoping to make him feel as good as I do, I lick my thumb and drop it between us, rubbing a circle around the head. Throwing his head back he lets out a tortured sound as I lower my hand and grip his shaft.

“Wet it,” he rasps.

Nodding, I let him go, lift my hand up and lick my hand, allowing some saliva to pool in my palm before I reach down and grip him again. The lubrication allows me to move my hand faster and I can tell he likes it by the feral sounds coming from his throat.

His breath catches when he looks down to watch as my hand shuttles up and down.

“Harder,” he pleads.

I grip him harder, but not too hard because I’m not trying to hurt him.

“Be aggressive, Angel. Do it as hard as you can,” he chokes out.

I bite my lip nervously as I comply, worried that I’ll do something wrong—until the growly moan he lets out lets me know he’s not in any pain. The sounds coming from his throat have my desire doubling back with a vengeance. My breath leaves me in a loud whoosh when he slips his hands beneath my shirt and slides them up to cup my breasts. I let out a whimper as he tugs the lace cups down and pinches my nipples.

“Donovan,” I whimper.

He growls and pinches again, harder. “Fuckin’ love the way you say my goddamn name,” he rasps as he looks up at me. Everything seems to fade away as we make eye contact again, his eyes flashing with desire.

“I’m going to come all over your fingers if you keep that up,” he growls.

Licking my lips, I nod. “Do it.”

He moans as he brings his hands out from beneath my shirt, raises them to my head and threads his fingers through my hair. Bringing me forward just a bit he angles my head and then buries his face against my neck. The heat of his breath against that sensitive area causes goosebumps to break out all over my body, and they only grow when he bites down and sucks at the side of my neck. God, why does that feel so good? My internal temperature rises exponentially when he does it over and over again.

“Donovan,” I gasp.

Tearing his mouth away, he growls, “Say it again, Angel.”

“Donovan, Donovan, Donovan,” I whisper.

He lets out a sound of desire that I immediately know I’ll remember forever, just before he yells my name. As he does this, his cock starts spurting out his release, the heat of it against my fingers more arousing than I ever could have imagined. His hips shift beneath me as he thrusts up, fucking my fist. I grip tighter as my body goes up with his motion before he drops down and repeats the move half a dozen more times as he finishes coming.

He says nothing as he pulls his fingers out of my hair and then wraps his arms around me, holding me close. Sensing that it’s more important to preserve the moment than to clean up, I wipe my hand off on my shirt and then put my arms around his shoulders and hug him. We’re both breathing so heavily that it takes a minute or so to notice that he’s shaking.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

He nods, but I don’t think he’s being honest. “I just need a minute,” he croaks.