ARROGANT PLAYBOY (22 page)

“I’m yours,” I whisper.

His fingers slip inside the
waist of my leggings, and travel between my thighs until they find my wet slit.
Dragging his fingertips between my seam, his thumb circles my swollen clit.

I grind against him, his
fingers sliding deep inside me, coaxing me, teasing me.

He doesn’t stop, and I realize
this isn’t about him. For the first time, this isn’t about a physical release
for Beckham.

“Do I make you happy?” His free
hand presses against the small of my back as my hips rock.

Biting my lip and squeezing my
eyes, I offer a breathless, “Yes.”

“Am I enough for you?”

“God, Beckham, yes…you’re
enough…”

And
yet I can’t get enough of you…

Minutes later I’m unable to
fight the burning friction building up below. With hips circling and rocking, I
ride myself to the edge, collapsing against his chest when it’s over.

“I didn’t want to need you.” With
Beckham’s face buried in my hair, his soft tone tickles my ear. “God, I fought
it like hell.”

I smile though he can’t see.

His fingers slip up the back of
my neck before tangling in my hair and tugging me back until our eyes meet.

“Do you remember what you told
me the first time we went to Utah?” His blue eyes radiate in the afternoon
sunlight. “You said one of these days I was going to meet my match, and she was
going to knock me sideways.”

“I remember.”

“You’re my fucking match,
Odessa. I knew right then it was going to be you,” he says. “It’s been you
since the moment you flipped me off in the elevator.”

Quiet laughter fills my chest,
and I rest my cheek against his steel shoulder. His arms wrap around me,
pulling me into him.

My father’s words echo in my
mind,
“Life didn’t matter until your
mother.”

“I was just existing before I
met you,” I whisper, voice cracked. “You brought me to life.”

Closing my eyes, my lips find
his, soaking in this moment, basking in the beauty of a moment that will define
us for the rest of our lives.

BECKHAM

The knot of my tie is crooked.

I’ve tied hundreds, thousands
of ties in my day, but for some reason I can’t get this one right.

My fingers show a hint of a
tremor as I tug it loose and start over again. Facing the mirror, I drape the
tie around my neck and cross one end over the other.

Odessa steps out of the shower,
wrapping a towel around her body and slicking her soaked hair out of her face.

“Need help?” She saunters
toward me, gripping the pale pink tie and starting from the top. A minute later
it’s done. Perfectly. “There.”

The white envelope rests on the
bathroom counter. I’d shoved it in a drawer for weeks, not ready yet to see the
results. I now know that I’ll never be ready.

“The hearing’s in an hour,” she
says. “We’ve got to get going.”

Her eyes drop toward the white
letter, and she pauses.

“Beck, do you want to open it?”

My hand cups the back of my
neck, my teeth raking my lower lip. “Thinking about it.”

“No matter what it says in
there, everything’s going to work out. You have to believe that.”

Sucking in a hard breath I grab
the envelope and rip it open before I have a chance to talk myself out of it.
Odessa watches, barely breathing, as my eyes scan the letter.

I don’t read the whole thing. I
don’t have to. The words “excluded” and “zero probability” are in bold.

My knees threaten to buckle, my
heart hammering in my chest. The bathroom is hot. Spinning.

“Beckham…” Odessa rushes to me,
slipping her arms under mine. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

I push her away, gripping the
edge of the bathroom counter until I can catch my breath.

“Want me to get Sadie?” Odessa
places a hand on my shoulder.

“I need a minute, okay?”

Her hand falls, but she hasn’t
left. “You are her father, Beckham. It doesn’t matter what the test says.
You’re the one who stepped in when she had no one else. You were there since
the moment she took her first breath, and you haven’t left her side once.”

Questions silently ricochet. If
I’m not her father, who is? What if Eva changes her mind? What if the judge
decides to place her in foster care?

An unexpected calm washes over
me. I have to be strong. I have to fight. There’s no other choice.

If not for me, then for my
daughter
.

ODESSA

2
years later…

“Look at the monkeys, Sadie!”

My mom points toward an
enclosure filled with orangutans and Sadie squeals, her dark pigtails bopping
as she runs. The Central Park Zoo is extra sparse today, and it’s a balmy
seventy-five degrees. Public schools are back in session so that means we
almost have the whole place to ourselves.

I push her empty stroller, a
handful of steps behind Beckham. A month into my third trimester, it’s getting
a little harder to keep up with everyone.

Beck turns around, “You doing
okay?”

With one hand cupping my
bulbous belly I smile and nod. “She’s kicking extra hard today.”

“It’s the apple juice you drank
this morning,” Mom calls back. “All that sugar.”

Sadie scampers up to the
railing by the orangutans and Beckham comes up behind, scooping her up and
depositing her on his shoulders so she can see. He’s a good dad, and he doesn’t
give himself nearly enough credit.

Beckham holds her by the knees,
ensuring she won’t fall off his shoulders should she decide to get wiggly. At
times, he’s overly protective of her, but I can’t blame him. In the back of his
mind, he’s still terrified something’s going to happen to her. Something beyond
his control.

A powerless Beckham is a
dangerous Beckham, despite the fact that he’s softened just a tad over the last
two years.

I park the stroller and waddle
toward them. Mom is reading off the nearby plaque, telling Sadie what
orangutans eat and all about their native habitats. Dad would’ve loved to be
here, but I know he’s here in spirit.

“You excited for tomorrow?”
Beckham crouches down to ask.

I glance up at a grinning Sadie
and nod. Tomorrow she becomes my daughter. Legally. Beckham and I married eight
months ago in a civil ceremony. My parents were here, and my siblings, and his
best friend, Xavier. Dane and Bellamy came too. After the ceremony, we had a
private dinner at one of the swankiest restaurants in the city and set off for
an Italian honeymoon.

Leaving Sadie for the first
time was hard, but knowing she was with my mom made it easier to stomach.

“Can’t wait.” I hook my hand
into his elbow.

“Mama!” Sadie points to one of
the monkeys swinging from a makeshift branch. “Look!”

“I see that,” I say, adding
extra excitement in my tone. I’ll never get tired of seeing the world through her
eyes.

Almost two years ago to the
day, a family court judge agreed that Sadie could stay with Beckham and that he
could start the process to formally adopt her. Every so often we expect Eva to
show up out of nowhere, demanding to see her and declaring she had a change of
heart, but the last we knew, Eva had moved out of the city and back to
Argentina when she met her match in some Chilean doctor.

When Eva relinquished her
rights to Sadie, she went on record as saying Sadie’s father was an anonymous
sperm donor, even going so far as to provide the donor number, which we matched
up with a private, sperm donor registry based out of upstate New York.

“I’m ready for it to be
official,” I say. “Can’t help but feel she was always supposed to be mine.”

Beckham lifts Sadie from his
shoulders, placing her gently on the ground until she bolts off toward my mom.
Turning to me, he takes my hand and gives it a good squeeze.

“And you,” I say. “You were
always supposed to be mine too.”

“I didn’t stand a chance,” he
says, leaning to gift me with a sweet kiss.

“Okay, I guess Sadie wants to
see the zebras next,” Mom calls.

Beckham pushes the empty
stroller, keeping pace with me as Mom holds Sadie’s hand up ahead.

“What are you thinking about?”
I ask. “Awful quiet today.”

He offers a gentle smile, lips
closed tight. “Just thinking that it doesn’t get any better than this.”

I thread my fingers through
his, pressing my cheek against his arm as we stroll.

“This,” he says. “This is what
I live for.”

THE END

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AMAZON TOP 100
BESTSELLING AUTHOR Winter Renshaw recently celebrated her third 29th birthday.
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Page
ahead for a preview of BITTER RIVALS! A romance novella coming out November 9
^th
in the POSSESS Anthology! It features Beckham’s best friend, Xavier Fox, and
his lost love and biggest rival, Magnolia Grantham!

MAGNOLIA GRANTHAM

Shoes.

There are men’s shoes by the
front door.

I pull the key from the door of
my boss’ Montauk seaside home and crouch to examine a set of tanned leather
loafers that shine like the day they were purchased.

“Hello?” My voice echoes
through the two-story foyer. The call bounces off the shiplap walls and lands
on the wall of windows overlooking the water.

No answer.

I pad lightly toward the
kitchen. A tablet and laptop are plugged in and charging, and a breeze carrying
sea salt drifts through an open window. The July midday sun blankets the day
with warmth and light against the sandy dunes, and all I want after a
three-hour Jitney ride is to change into something worthy of summer and dip my
toes into the sand of my boss’ private beach.

In fact, that was her order.
Addison yelled at me for working too much.

In the two years I’d worked as
a real estate broker at Van Cleef agency, never once had I requested so much as
a single vacation day.

It took forever to get here,
and not just because of the Jitney’s snail pace or the myriad of stops we made
during the one-hundred-twenty mile trek. The driver was an older man,
retirement age, and when I saw him lugging fifty-some suitcases out from the
bus’ storage compartment, I couldn’t let him do it alone. I stayed, handing out
luggage and walking a group of little old ladies to the nearest taxi station.

Finally, I’m here.

But clearly I’m not alone.

“Hello?” I call out again.
“Who’s in here?”

Puffs of white smoke billow
past the window outside, and the smoldering scent of a fired up grill wafts in
front of me. I drop my bags by the butcher-block kitchen island and head for
the sliders that lead to a wraparound deck.

A shirtless man in navy and
white striped board shorts shimmies in front of the grill. The white cords of
his ear buds dangle down his shoulders.

His tanned back glistens and
his muscles flex beneath taught skin. The round curve of his tight ass keeps
his low-hanging shorts in tact and his head bobs to the music faintly
uhn-tissing
from his ears. He doesn’t
hear me.

Damn it!

I’d recognize that thick,
russet head of hair, that narrow, chiseled waist and those perfectly balled
calves anywhere.

I’m just not sure what he’s
doing
here
…

At our boss’ Hamptons home…

During the long weekend she designated
especially for
me
…

I reach for one of the white
cords and yank it from his ear with one fluid pull. A man I haven’t seen nor
spoken to in two full years whips around and lifts his Ray-Bans. The corners of
his smug mouth fall. He meets my disdainful glare with one of his own the
second my face registers in that big, arrogant brain of his.

“Xavier.” I fold my arms across
my chest.

“Magnolia.” His fist clenches
around a pair of metal tongs.

“What are you doing here?
Addison reserved this weekend for me.”

His jaw sets. “Evidently
Addison didn’t speak to Wilder first.”

You’d think a husband and wife
would talk to one another, but apparently the Van Cleefs have bigger things to
worry about besides which employees and friends of theirs they loaned their
vacation home to the second weekend in July.

“I’m calling Addison,” I say,
whipping out my phone.

Xavier smirks, running a hand
through his thick hair before folding his arms. He widens his stance like I’m
two seconds from providing his personal entertainment.

 
“Fine.”

“What?” I ask.

“You’re going to bother your
boss in the middle of her St. Thomas vacation with her family because you don’t
want to share her five-thousand-square-foot, six bed, seven bath beach house
with one of your colleagues.”

He sounds like such a Realtor.

“I don’t consider you a
colleague
.” I drop my phone. He has a
point. Bothering Addison on vacation after she so generously offered her house
to me would be rude, and sacrificing tact all to prove a point isn’t my style.

“That’s right. I forgot. We’re
rivals
.”

His head shakes as he turns to
flip the generous portions of fish grilling in a basket over mild flames. His
biceps tense and relax in response. Judging by the deep tan coating his smooth
skin, I’m willing to wager he’s been here most of the week.

Once upon a time we were
partners. A dangerous duo. Unstoppable. Young and driven with just the right
amount of naivety to believe we could take over the world.

And then a drunken night at a
broker’s conference in Tallahassee changed everything. But it wasn’t time spent
between the sheets that did us in: it was what transpired the morning after.

“You make it sound dramatic.” I
resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Adversaries. Competitors,” he
says, back to me. “That better for you?”

Every real estate broker in the
greater Manhattan area is my competitor. My rivalry with Xavier Fox just
happens to run deeper.

It’s a bitter kind of rivalry;
defined by disappointment, false hopes, and fallacies.

Xavier plates his fish, clicks
off the grill, and closes the lid, all while humming a carefree little tune
from his perfectly full lips. It’s not like him to be so blithe, and I swear
he’s doing it to taunt me.

“If you don’t mind.” He says
after turning around. His hands are full with tongs and his plate, and he nods
toward the door.

I grip the handle of the slider
and yank it open for His Royal Highness. He brushes past my shoulder in a cloud
of sea spray and coconut sunblock and freshly caught seafood.

He smells like vacation.

My
vacation.

The one I fantasized about the
entire three-hour ride here. The one I meticulously packed for all of last
night. The first one I’ve had in over two years.

A long weekend of eating good
food, shopping for quirky antiques, and touring weather-beaten, shingled
windmills and lighthouses between working on my tan was all I wanted.

Not sharing a gorgeous beach
house with Xavier Fox, arrogant asshole extraordinaire.

I stay planted on the weathered
wood deck, breathing in the smog-free air that mixes with remnants of grill
smoke. My stomach growls, audible only to me thanks to the nearby crashing
waves.

“How long are you staying?” I
step inside.

He’s already seated at the
reclaimed oak dining table, chewing a tender piece of grilled whitefish.

He swallows. “Until Monday.”

Me
too.

My shoulders slump. This isn’t
vacation. I didn’t rearrange my appointment and obligations and solicit Skylar
to cover my showings just to spend a weekend buried in uncomfortable tension
next to the one man who makes my blood boil and my core heat at the same time.

I slink past him, hoisting my
bag up and over my shoulder.

“Where are you going?” He rests
his fork.

“To find a ride back to the
city.”

Easier said than done. I don’t
know where the Jitney is or if it’s already left Montauk, but I’ll figure it
out.

“You just got here.” He shakes
his head. “You hate me that much, do you?”

“I don’t hate anyone, Xavier.
Don’t flatter yourself.” I’ve learned to forgive him over the years, but I’ve
never forgotten. “I’ve better things to do with my time than sit around hating
you.”

Yeah,
like knocking you out of the top 1% of listing agents in the city.

He stole that title from me
along with ten of my highest profile clients over the past couple years.

“Stay here.” He leans back in
his chair, dabbing his full lips with a cloth napkin. A hint of a five o’clock
shadow shades his hollowed cheekbones. “This house is big enough for the two of
us. You stay out of my way. I’ll stay out of yours.”

This house is
not
big enough for the both of us. The entire
borough of Manhattan isn’t big enough for the both of us.

Publishing
November 9, 2015 in the POSSESS Alpha Romance Anthology!