The ocean spread before them in an endless dark swath that stretched to the horizon, hiding any number of mysteries. Overhead, the sky had darkened to a deep purple that edged on blue and the first stars winked into existence. With the sand cool beneath her feet and the soothing shush sound of the waves, something deep inside Samara relaxed.
She kept her gaze on the ocean, on the sky, on the beach. Anywhere but at the man beside her. If she looked at Beckett, she might take him up on the promise written across his face. She’d known this thing growing between them wasn’t just the shadow of the inferno of chemistry created by their first night together. It was new and different and all the more dangerous because of it. That knowledge didn’t seem to bother him in the least.
She was still deciding if it bothered her.
Liar. It was everything you could do not to throw yourself into his arms and confess that you never really got over him.
She could chalk her failed relationships up to her devotion to Kingdom Corp. She had done that. Every time she sat through another talk about how it wasn’t working, or she pulled the trigger on ending a dying relationship, there was a niggling little voice in the back of her mind that said there was more to it. That she was waiting for someone.
That she was waiting for Beckett, even if she hadn’t been aware it was him at the time.
None of her exes held a candle to the man holding her hand and seeming on the verge of telling her things she’d convinced herself she never wanted to hear from his lips. The racing of her heart gave lie to that. She wanted to hear it.
It just scared the shit out of her. To want it was to hope, and to hope was to set herself up for heartbreak.
You can’t let yourself think like that. We’ve trusted each other with bigger things than our hearts in the last few days.
Samara moved to him and slipped under his arm. The darkness created a false sense of privacy, and the quiet shushing sound of the waves enclosed them. As long as they didn’t look at the city sprawling out at their backs, they could pretend they were truly alone here. They could have been the last two people in the world.
It would have been a relief to have her choice taken away, for it to be just them and no one—nothing—else to interfere. They could have a life. They could spend years getting to know each other again and filling in the blanks of their pasts. There would be no crisis or anyone depending on them. No stakes in any game.
That wasn’t their reality. It would never be their reality.
She had to either make her peace with that truth, or cut this thing off before it went any further. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know where we go from here.”
“Why do we have to have a concrete plan?” He set his chin on the top of her head and cuddled her closer. “Life has a funny way of proving that we’re not in control—we never will be. We can fake it, and lie to ourselves and say that we’ve got it all figured out, but then life comes along and flips the table to prove how wrong we were.”
She stared into the night. “Thank you for that rousing pep talk.”
“I wasn’t done.” Beckett chuckled. “My point is that any plan worth having isn’t concrete. It’s adjustable and has alternatives and backups to ensure you don’t get caught with your pants down by the enemy.”
She huffed. “You make it sound like we’re going to war.”
“War is life—at least the life we chose. There’s no such thing as peace in the energy industry—oil or otherwise. There are always fights that require us to step to the line. That won’t change, no matter what else does.”
“Shouldn’t we be striving for peace?” It seemed the question to ask, if only because she was still chewing on his words. Tasting them to see how they jibed with her worldview.
“Samara.” He shifted so he could look down at her. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter. You wouldn’t flourish in a peaceful environment any more than I would. We need the battles, whether it’s in the boardroom or facing down the competition over a bid. We get off on it.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. She’d never made a habit of lying to herself. She did enjoy those battles. Outmaneuvering problems as they arose and working through a situation to get what she needed. There was nothing else like it. “I’m not ashamed of that.”
“Why would you be?” He traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “Some people were built for peace. They are comfortable in it, and they seek it out at all costs. We’re not those kinds of people, which is a damn good thing because neither of our companies would last long if it was run by people who want to avoid conflict.”
“How do two people who thrive in conflict even try to be together? Wouldn’t it be a total shit show?”
His slow smile had her entire body warming. “Only one way to find out.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She didn’t know. There was too much she didn’t know how to deal with, but the one thing she did know was that this moment with this man felt right.
She turned her face into his chest and let him stroke her hair. It was time to admit that Beckett saw her. He knew her. He wanted and cared for her despite all her dark corners and emotional scars.
Or maybe, just maybe, he wanted and cared for her—at least in part—because of them.
Beckett wanted to bottle that moment and keep it with him always. He and Samara, standing on the beach and just…being. It could be like this all the time if we’d let it. He wouldn’t convince her of that tonight, but she was slowly coming around. They had time. He wasn’t wavering, and he had no problem waiting until she felt comfortable enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He shifted her hair off her neck and kissed her there. “Come to bed with me.”
“That’s my line.” She spoke softly, as if already half asleep.
“If you’re tired—”
Samara slid her hands up his chest and pressed herself firmly against him. “I’m tired, Beckett. I’m not dead.”
“That’s reassuring.” He gripped her hips, guiding her motion. They weren’t nearly close enough, but he loved the glazed look that bled into her dark eyes. “Someday, when the smoke has cleared, I want to come back here.”
“Come back.”
“Yeah.” He dipped beneath the hem of her dress and dragged his fingers across the backs of her thighs. “Just us. I want to press you against that window in our room and fuck you as we watch the sun set.” Her little gasp only spurred him on. “And that hot tub? I can’t look at it without seeing you sitting on the edge, the flickering light kisses your skin, your pussy wet and aching for my tongue.”
“Beckett.” Her fingers dug into his arm.
He lowered his head until his lips brushed hers in answer. “Yeah?”
Samara released him and took two large steps back. “The room. Hurry.”
Perversely, that made him dig in his heels. “You like those ideas?”
“What I’d like is for you to put that mouth to better use than talking.”
He laughed. God, even when he was so hot for her he couldn’t see straight, she still made him laugh. It shouldn’t be possible. He could barely think past the need to get her out of her dress and sink between those sweet thighs, but her smart-ass comment warmed him in ways that had nothing to do with desire. I’m falling for you, Samara. He couldn’t say it now any more than he could say it last time they’d been in bed. She’d either bolt or blame it on sex muddling his head.
There was nothing to do but take his woman to bed.
“Let’s go.” He kept his hand on the small of her back, the curve of her ass, the long line of her spine, as they strode up the beach and into the hotel. Tension radiated from her body, and every look she sent him had Beckett reconsidering his plan to get her back to the room. Surely there was a storage closet around there somewhere…
Samara dragged him inside the elevator as soon as the doors opened. His back hit the wall and she took his mouth in the same move. Her hands were everywhere, running down his back, up his arms, to his shoulders. Beckett responded in kind, grabbing her ass and hauling her even tighter against him. She tasted of wine and decadence, and he felt more than heard the little noises she made as she ground against him.
The elevator dinged.
He walked her backward out the doors, barely registering the wide-eyed couple waiting on their floor. He and Samara weren’t moving fast enough, though, so he swung her into his arms. She kissed his jaw, her hands already unbuttoning his shirt. “Hurry, Beckett.”
He hurried.
Even with her in his arms, he got the door open and kicked it shut behind him as he strode into the hotel room. Beckett paused to lock the door behind them and only then did he set Samara on her feet, sliding her down his body. “You want me to put my mouth to good use.”
“I did say that—just a few minutes ago.” She pulled his shirt up and over his shoulders, and then dropped it on the floor. Just like the last few times they’d been together, she found his scar with her fingers, but this time she followed it with her lips. The kiss was light and almost innocent, but he felt it all the way down to his soul.
As if she recognized that the scars of his past went beyond the skin and she accepted them.
He laced his fingers through her hair and tugged her up until she pressed against him from chest to hips. The fabric of her dress slid against him, but it might as well have been sandpaper. He wanted her skin on his with nothing between them. “You want my mouth? Demand it.”
Her eyes widened even as she smiled. “I want your mouth here.” Samara traced the line of her neck with a single finger.
Beckett wasted no time following its path with his tongue. He kissed her neck as if that was all he’d ever get of her, the only touch she’d ever allow. She went soft in his arms, and he nipped her earlobe. It seemed to jolt her a little, because she reached down and unzipped her dress. A tiny wiggle, and it hit the floor, leaving her in only a bra and panties, both a deep purple. “My breasts. I want you there.”
“Gladly.” Instead of going to his knees, he hooked the backs of her thighs and lifted her to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he felt the heat of her pussy even through his slacks. He captured her nipple through the lace of her bra.
“Harder,” she gasped. “Don’t be gentle with me.”
He walked them through the suite to lay her on the bed, using the change in position to shove her bra down, trapping her arms against her sides. He cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples and kissed one and then the other, laying into the sensitive bud with tongue and teeth, driven on by her moans and writhing hips.
“Lower. I need your mouth lower.”
He left her bra where it was, liking the picture it created. It reminded him of the way she’d waited for him in his bed. On display. And what a display it was. Her high breasts shook with each breath, her dark nipples at attention, her skin flushed from desire. For him. He licked down her stomach, stopping just shy of the band of her panties. “Here?”
“Not funny.” She lifted her hips. “Kiss me, Beckett. Kiss me like you mean it.”
He obeyed, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her silk panties. She was so wet he could taste her through the fabric, and he sucked on her clit hard enough to have her back bowing off the bed. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough as long as there was a barrier between them. He caught the band in his teeth and dragged her panties down slowly.
Her eyes flew open and she bent up to watch him, her lips parted. “Oh. My. God.”
He moved slower, revealing her inch by inch, until her panties hit her knees. There, they restrained her the same way her bra did, the pseudo bondage seeming to do as much for her as it did for him. “Someday, I want you tied in red silk…No, in purple the exact shade of your panties.” He parted her with his fingers and used his thumb to circle her clit. “Spread for me. Wet and wanting and desperate for whatever pleasure I’m willing to give you.” He pushed a single finger into her. “I wouldn’t make you wait long, Samara. I’m as desperate for you as you are for me. No power games, no matter how intoxicating, can hold up to that desire.
“I changed my mind.”
He froze. “What?”
“I don’t want your mouth.” She sat up and disentangled herself from her bra. “I want to give you mine.”
Samara pushed Beckett onto his back. She craved the feel of his cock in her mouth. She wanted to make him lose control. Even when he was inside her, driving her out of her mind with pleasure, he kept a part of himself tightly wound. Contained.
She wanted everything he had to give. He’d already seen and accepted her shadows—she wanted to grant him that same gift.
She moved between his thighs and lightly raked her fingers down them. He was as muscled there as he was everywhere else—lean and in fighting shape. She took his cock in her hand and squeezed. “I see you, Beckett King. I accept you.” I think I love you. She couldn’t say it. Not now. Not while so much still hung over their heads.
“Samara…” A muscle twitched in his jaw as she gave him another stroke. “You don’t have to.”
It didn’t matter if he meant giving him head or accepting whatever sins he carried within him. Neither of them was perfect, but that might just be what made them work. “I have you. Relax. Give it all to me.”
He huffed out a strangled laugh. “There isn’t going to be much relaxing with my cock so close to your mouth.”
“Mmm.” She leaned down and sucked the head of him into her mouth. Even if Samara hadn’t planned on giving Beckett the show of a lifetime, the look in his brown eyes would have inspired her to do exactly that. He looked like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver and watching a mountain of a wave descend upon him. Lost. Found. All at the same time.
She lifted her head enough to repeat, “Give it all to me.” And then his cock was between her lips and she sucked him down, down, down. Beckett’s thighs tensed beneath her hands, and he sifted his fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face.
“Fuck, Samara, you should see the picture you make. Suck me hard.”
The command sent a bolt of lightning through her. She loved this, loved the push and pull between them, loved handing over control, if only for a little while. Beckett’s cock was wide and long enough that she had to concentrate to take all of him. She relaxed into it, running her tongue along the underside of him, reacquainting herself with every centimeter. Sheer pleasure threatened to send her spiraling and it was only his hands in her hair that kept her anchored in that moment. With him.
His grip tightened and he lifted her off his cock. “You keep sucking me so sweetly, I’m going to lose control and start fucking your pretty little mouth.”
She licked her lips, loving the way he followed the movement. It made her thighs clench together and pleasure throb through her clit. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.” She needed him wild for her. She needed him to lose control.
“Samara—”
She was tired of talking. She flicked the tip of his cock with her tongue and sucked him down again. Before, she’d been playing—enjoying giving Beckett head for the sake of being able to do it again—but if he had half a chance, he’d stop her before she was finished. She sucked him hard, using her hand to counterstroke in the way she knew he loved. With her other hand, she cupped his balls, gently squeezing in counterpoint to what she did with her lips and tongue.
“Fuuuuck.”
The word was her only warning. One second she was going for broke, the next she was on her back with Beckett’s mouth on hers. He wrenched her legs wide and thrust against her, his cock sliding over her clit. “Wicked woman.” He lifted her hips to fit them more tightly together. “You want my cum? You have to fucking earn it.”
She couldn’t catch her breath. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. Samara raked her nails down his back, urging him closer. “I was earning it.”
“Not yet.” He nipped her neck and then sucked the spot hard. “I love the sight of you taking me deep, but it’s not your mouth I’m craving right now.” He reached between them and shoved two fingers into her. She clamped around him instinctively, and he groaned. “It feels like you’re trying to hold me to you.”
“I am.” She couldn’t think past his fingers filling her. It was good—so good—but nowhere near enough. Beckett had been right all along—there was only one thing she craved and anything else was a poor substitute. “I need you. Now.” She snaked her foot down the back of his leg and pushed up with her hips. “I can’t wait any longer.”
He cursed again. “Samara, I’m trying to do right by you and you’re making it fucking impossible.”
“The only thing I want fucking is us.”
He chuckled against her neck. “Yeah, I got that.” He shifted them closer to the edge of the bed and reached blindly into the nightstand. He pulled back and ripped the condom open, but Samara snatched it out of his hand.
“Let me.” She kissed his jaw as she rolled it over his cock, taking her time. As much as she wanted him inside her, teasing him was totally worth waiting a little bit. Once he was sheathed, she gave him another stroke.
“You’re killing me, woman.” Beckett settled back between her thighs and framed her face with his hands. He kissed her like the kiss itself was the main event and his cock wasn’t poised at her entrance. The slow slide of his tongue against hers held a promise that encompassed more than this moment.
A future.
He thrust into her in a smooth movement, as natural as her next breath. Pleasure and promise built with each stroke, and still the kiss went on and on. Beckett held her as if she were the most precious thing in the world, as if nothing else mattered but her happiness. Dangerous, fanciful thoughts, but she wrapped them up and held them close even as she clung to him.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Each word punctuated a thrust, an answer to a question he hadn’t given voice to. It didn’t matter. Words were superficial compared to the connection they built there and now.
Beckett’s tempo increased, and she rose to meet each stroke. He wrapped his arms around her, so she lay in his embrace instead of on the bed, holding her as close as two people could be. “I don’t give a fuck what the world throws at us. I’m keeping you, Samara. ”
She came with a soft cry, pressing her face against his shoulder, telling herself the burning in her eyes was orgasmic bliss and not anything resembling tears. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes to everything.”