Beckett
“Knock, knock.” I rap my knuckles against the room Arianne and I will be forced to share tonight.
“You’re decent?”
Sle eping on the floor is out of the question, so I’ll have to charm my way into the only bed in this
inn.
“Come in, Beckett.” I enter the room and freeze. She’s gorgeous. I take her in. She does the same.
“My God...” She shakes her head. “You’re hot enough to get any woman pregnant on sight.”
“I didn’t know I had such superpowers.” Her eyes widen in horror. Her cheeks flame up, matching
the same vibrant color as her pretty dress.
“That came flying out of my mouth without my permission.” She closes her eyes and shakes her
head. “This is so embarrassing. I blame my overshare on how well you wear a tuxedo.”
I approach her. “If we’re exchanging compliments...” I give her a salacious onceover. “Without
seeing any of the women attending the gala, I already know I’ll be the envy of every man there.”
She brushes a fictitious hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she says. “I wasn’t sure if I should’ve
selected something more formal given the expected guests.”
“Is Andrea responsible for the look?”
“Yes. I had picked a handful of more conservative dresses, but she pushed me to live on the edge. I
hope it’s not too much. Or not enough.” The tremor in her voice is audible.
I place my hands on her shoulders. “Stop stressing. You look perfect. You could be wearing a
purple velour tracksuit or overalls and you’d still be hot.”
“That’s a little extreme,” she says. “I’d never make such a fashion faux pas. I just don’t want to
look homely.”
“You’re pure elegance in this, baby.” “You’re not just saying that?” “I’d never bullshit you.”
“Thank you.” Arianne’s sleeveless red dress with a high neck is red carpet perfection. The lower
part is flared and pleated, hitting her well below the knee. The intricate red heels suit the dress to a
T. Her hair, which she’s been wearing out a lot more lately, is pulled back in a low bun. She’s only
wearing a veil of makeup.
Rhys has hinted at it. So has Holt. She’s a d eparture from every woman I’ve ever been with. The
more I’m with her, the more I want to be with her. I can’t explain it. However, there’s no way I’ll
attempt to make sense of it while we’re in Germany. I have a lot more interesting things on my
mind.
I allow my hands to glide down her back. “You know what I like the most about this dress?”
“What?” “Easy access,” I say as I slide the zipper down a little. “Don’t you dare.” “I’m practicing
for later.” “Aren’t you a little cocky?” “Are you telling me you had enough earlier?” She doesn’t
answer. Yeah, I thought so. The shower was a tease—lots of kissing, touching and stroking. I didn’t
want to take things too far because after so many weeks of celibacy, a quickie was out of the
question.
“We start the day at eight a. m. sharp tomorrow morning.” As if that’s an excuse. “So?” “With the
jetlag, I’ll need my beauty sle ep.”
“That’s lame.” “What do you want from me?” I grab her hand and place it over my throbbing cock.
She hitches a breath. “I’ll tell you what I want from you after the gala.”