SMITH (The Beckett Boys, Book One) (19 page)

I laughed a little to myself. Well, at least she was as freaked out as me about this.

Once the door closed and I was alone in the apartment, I considered leaving again. It would be easy and clean, and better for both of us—but especially her.

I could bring nothing but trouble to her life, and she didn’t really have a clue what she was getting into.

Exactly. Which is why you’re not going to be in her life, soldier. You’re simply spending one night with her. One night.

No more, no less.

In the morning you absolutely must leave, no number exchanged, no promise to see her again, nothing.

But tonight, she’s yours.

So it was settled then. I stripped off my clothes again, went to her bed and climbed under the comforter.

Her room was clean and sparse, with a poster of one of those girlie movies about vampires, and a framed picture on the wall of Caeli laughing with a couple of her girl friends at what must have been her high school graduation a few years back.

I knew it should have felt strange, lying in this girl’s bed, looking at her bookshelf, the hamper with the clothes falling out of it, the desk and bureau with her random candles and makeup and girlie lotions strewn everywhere.

But it didn’t feel strange at all, and that’s what really scared me. It was almost like I’d been there before.

A little while she came out of the bathroom and padded on tiptoe into the bedroom, looking sexy and uncertain.

“Hey,” she said, smiling.

“Climb on in,” I said. “I don’t bite.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, those big eyes flashing at me as she continued in through the doorway and walked to the edge of the bed.

“Get in and find out.”

She stared at me for a moment, and I reminded myself that this was just going to be a few hours—so whatever feelings I was getting, it was just temporary.

But I was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

She climbed into bed and then pulled the covers up.

The only light on in the room came from the lamp on the nightstand beside her bed, and a stream of light from the nearby window. Outside, occasionally I could hear a car drive by or the wind rattling the window frame.

She was lying on her back, covers pulled up, staring at the ceiling. “This is weird.”

“Yeah.” I smiled, finding her confusion cute.

“Do you do this a lot?” she asked, finally turning and meeting my gaze.

“It’s better not to get into that right now.”

“Why, because you’re a man whore?”

“Because I’m not interested in hearing about how many men you’ve done this with, either.”

“A one night stand? Just you,” she answered, and I knew she was being truthful.

I slid closer, leaning on my elbow, reached out and caressed her hair. “Let’s just be here tonight and then tomorrow we can worry about the rest.”

“I bet you’ve used that line before.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry about my lines and I won’t worry about the fact that you seem to think you know an awful lot about me already.”

“Fine,” she said, sighing. “We’ll just pretend this is normal, I guess.”

“Exactly.” I slid closer. “Now come here.”

She slid into my arms much more easily than I expected, and instantly, as I encircled her, feeling her warm, soft body against my hardness, it was like she melted me.

I smelled her hair, and I let her snuggle closer, and then I closed my eyes, and it was better than I even thought it could be.

Shit. I’m in real trouble this time.

Bad trouble.

I was hard as a rock and I wanted her again. But this time it was different.

My lips on her neck, and then her turning in to face me, so soft and vulnerable and those liquid eyes, almost begging me.

“I need you,” she whispered.

“I need you too,” I said.

Soon, we were shedding the few clothes either of us had on, and then I was on top of her, completely naked, the two of us, and we looked in each other’s eyes.

She opened her legs and her pussy was wet and open, my cock was throbbing, slick, and I knew that this time there would be no condom.

I didn’t want anything between us and neither did she.

“Make love to me,” she said softly.

I slid into her bare pussy, parting her slit, pushing through her folds, and damn if it wasn’t the best feeling I’d ever had in all my life. My life, which up until now hadn’t been much—but this was something else.

This girl, her eyes, the way she looked at me…what did she want?

Didn’t she know what I was?

I told myself again,
it’s just for tonight. Forget about tomorrow.

Forget about what happened in Afghanistan.

And feeling her silky smooth body, I actually could do it. I could forget the past and the future, and I slid all the way into her, went as deep as I could, and she was wetter than I could have imagined.

Soon, I was pounding her slowly, fucking her perfectly.

Maybe this was making love. I didn’t know.

I’d never made love in my life—I just fucked.

Only now, I was fucking but it felt like something else, and she was arching those thick hips into me, and staring up at me, those pouting lips so sexy—and now I was swiveling my hips faster.

“Oh God, Zack, fuck me hard and I’m going to come on your cock,” she gasped.

“Shit, I’m coming too.”

“Come inside me,” she said, and then our hips crashed together and I was unloading everything I had inside her.

It was the best release ever, and my entire body turned to steel, and I was simultaneously melting into her, giving way, and we came together.

When it was over, I stayed inside her, and our lips met and we kissed for a long time, like nothing else—no other woman I’d kissed felt this right, this good, this soft…

I knew that I’d never forget her, even when I walked away from her in a few short hours, never to see her again.

But for now, I would remember each and every moment with her, record it so that someday years from now I could replay it again and again.

I tasted her, tasted her lips, breathed in the scent of her, knowing it was going to be the last time.

C
AELI

I
t was difficult
, if not impossible to sleep after what he’d done to me.

The feel of his muscular body, every fiber rock hard and slick with sweat, and the orgasm that had seemed like it had split between our two souls and forged us momentarily into one…was I dreaming or had that really happened?

But then he was holding me close, and I curled into him, feeling his arms wrap around me, and I could see the sinews of his forearm, the ink of his flag tattoo that edged from his shoulder and down onto his upper bicep.

God, he felt amazing. He even smelled amazing.

And those lips. I groaned happily, enjoying this feeling of being held in the night. Even as the wind whipped outside the apartment and rattled the windows of the house, I felt so totally safe and protected.

A hurricane could tear down the walls and I was certain that Zack would hold me and keep me completely safe from harm.

I thought about the way he’d taken care of my cousins earlier when one of them had merely insulted me, swore at me in the parking lot of the restaurant.

Zack had taken them out without so much as breaking a sweat.

And then he’d taken me in, fucked me, made love to me, stared into my eyes and swept me away into a sea of passion I’d never known existed.

But now I knew, and I wanted more of it. I wanted more of him.

It was difficult to fall asleep, even as the adrenaline rush faded and my eyes closed. I could hear his breathing finally slow, and then he was ever so lightly snoring, so faintly that it was difficult to detect.

He was sleeping, his arms still holding me.

I began to drift, too, and a smile touched my lips, a smile of contentment and warmth and safety that I hadn’t felt ever before in my life.

I drifted off, and my sleep was deep and undisturbed for the first time in a long time.

It wasn’t until the yelling that I woke up again.

My eyes snapped open and Zack was already leaping out of bed, pulling on his boxers as the yelling intensified.

Oh my God.

My father was in the apartment—not just in my apartment—but in the
doorway of my bedroom
. He stood there, looming larger than life, and he was a large man, even though he was in his sixties—he still had the vigor and intensity of a younger man.

Gray hair lay in thick waves across his head, and his bushy eyebrows waggled almost comically as his nose and cheeks flamed red. “What the hell is going on? Who the hell is this in my fucking apartment?” he screamed, his voice booming.

I grabbed my blanket and pulled it up over my bare breasts. “Dad, get out of my room!”

“This is my room,” my father said. “I own this house. Your mother and I own this house, remember.”

“Get out! I need to get dressed,” I said.

He gave Zack a long, crazed look. “You. Outside with me,” he said.

Zack folded his arms. His back muscles clenched. “I’ll do what Caeli wants me to do,” he said.

Zack turned and looked at me as if asking for my response.

I swallowed, mumbling. “You can go out there while I get dressed.”

He nodded, agreeing, but his jaw flinched. He grabbed his pants and shirt and quickly put them on, his movements efficient and fast. There was no sense of panic or embarrassment, merely annoyance.

He straightened, gave me one last look, and I mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ as he turned again and walked out of the bedroom.

My father held the doorknob, glaring at me. “I’ll be waiting out here with Prince Charming,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

And then he slammed the door so hard that one corner of my poster flapped against the wall, as if in protest.

I felt my cheeks burning and tears stung my eyes. How humiliating.

And frustrating.

Why was my father letting himself into my apartment? Yes, he and my mother were technically my landlords, but I paid rent and was entitled to some basic privacy.

They’d done this kind of thing before, but never had it resulted in such an embarrassing and ridiculous scene.

But now I was stuck.

I could hear my father talking to Zack, questioning him, interrogating him as my father was known to do when he got upset.

Most of their conversation was muffled, I could just hear the tone of my dad’s voice—insistent, gruff, arrogant—and then Zack’s lower voice, answering in monosyllabic grunts, after which there would come a lengthy pause before my father’s voice resumed its questioning, pushy tone once more.

This wasn’t going to end well, and it made me increasingly nervous.

I got into jeans, shoes and a sweater, running my hands through my hair and putting it back into a quick ponytail with a hair tie, before finally walking out of the bedroom and facing the firing squad.

My father stood outside the bedroom, arms folded.

Zack had put on his coat and seemed all too ready to leave as quickly as possible, and I could hardly blame him.

“Your friend and I were just getting acquainted,” my father said, making it obvious he was less than impressed.

Zack sighed but didn’t speak.

“You have no right to just let yourself into my apartment, Dad.” I pushed a stray hair behind my ear, tried not to show how afraid I was.

My father snorted. “I tried to call you. Your mother texted you over and over again. We were worried. So finally I came over and let myself in—and look what I find.”

“I’m an adult.”

“Are you, now?” he said, sneering. “Good. So why don’t you be an adult and tell me all about what you did last night at the restaurant.” His eyes flicked to Zack and then back to me, and my heart began to race.

“I should go,” Zack said, his body tensing, as if he was readying to fight if necessary—a cornered wolf.

“Yeah, you should,” my father said, giving him a glance that could have killed.

But if my father wanted Zack to leave, then he obviously didn’t have a clue that Zack was the man who’d beaten up my cousins.

“Sorry about this,” I said to Zack, as he started towards the door of the apartment.

He turned and glanced at me. “Are you okay?” he asked.

My father laughed. “Just keep moving, pal. I don’t think she needs any help from the likes of you.”

Zack didn’t even glance at my father. His eyes stayed locked on mine. “Are you okay, Caeli? If you’re not, just say the word.”

I remembered his strong arms holding me, drawing me closer in the night—and the way he’d protected me from my bullying cousins. He was doing it again, right now, letting me know that I didn’t need to let my father do this to me.

“Actually, Dad, I think maybe
you
should leave,” I said, summoning all of my nerve. I’d never in my life had the courage to stand up to him before now.

He stared at me, incredulous. “What the hell’s gotten into you? Huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well figure it out. Because all I know is your uncle wants nothing to do with any of us and he says it’s your fault. Heck, I couldn’t get but two words out of him. He just texts me, “
ask Caeli
.” And nothing else. Won’t pick up the phone, won’t say anything to me.” My father’s temple had a vein throbbing in it, pulsing as his face reddened almost to a purplish hue. “So what do you have to say for yourself? Something must’ve happened last night for your uncle to basically disown us.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know exactly.”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it, so leave her alone,” Zack said from behind my father.

My Dad wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet, and now the veins bulged in his neck. “Caeli, you better tell your little friend to make a hasty exit or he’s going to wish he’d never laid eyes on the inside of this apartment.”

“Dad, calm down.”

“Caeli,” my father said, speaking more slowly, “this is my apartment. We’re renting it to you, and if you keep defying me, I’m going to kick you out and then you’ll be homeless.”