Текст книги "Butterfly Dreams"

Автор книги: A. Meredith Walters

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 14

Corin

“What am I going to wear? Mr. Bingley, help!”

I threw another shirt onto my bed in exasperation. Mr. Bingley sat on my armchair licking his ass and giving me disdainful looks. I was clearly interrupting his naptime and he was not happy.

“I should have let Tamsin have you.” I glared at him and he gave me his version of kitty stink eye before resuming his butt licking.

I wasn’t the kind of girl to change her clothes a million times. I typically didn’t bother with my hair and it took an act of God to have me apply any makeup. And shaving? Maybe once in an ice age.

But tonight was different.

Tonight I was going on an honest-to-goodness date.

And not with just any Joe Schmo.

I was going on a date with Beckett Kingsley.

My good buddy, lasagna hater, green-tea-drinking Beckett Kingsley.

Not only were we going on a date, but it was most likely going to be a date with kissing. Hopefully lots of kissing. And that made me tingle all over.

I was a twenty-five-year-old woman trying to suppress the urge to run around the room shrieking and squealing like a teenager at her first boy band concert.

“Ahh!” I screeched, startling Mr. Bingley, who was now officially pissed off. He jumped off the bed and sauntered out into the living room where he could sleep without my random bursts of crazy.

I looked in the mirror at the navy blue dress I had tried on and winced. It looked like something a grandmother would pick out. What was I smoking when I paid money for this thing?

I pulled it over my head and stood in the middle of the room in just my bra and underwear. At least I liked my undergarments. They were a cute pair with pink polka dots. No granny panties tonight.

I sort of wanted to put on my robe and crawl back into bed. This whole getting-ready-to-go-out-with-Beckett thing was way too stressful.

I hadn’t slept at all the night before. My mind was racing through so many different things. I couldn’t calm down long enough to drift off.

But there hadn’t been any panic attacks. It was the first time in ages I hadn’t experienced one during those dark hours.

My doorbell rang.

What?

I looked at the clock and realized it was already 7:30.

So that meant it was Beckett on the other side of the door.

Shit.

I looked down at my half-naked body.

Shit!

And then I started freaking out.

“I’ll be right there!” I yelled.

Should I let him in?

But I was practically naked!

I couldn’t let him see me like this!

Maybe I should own it. Shake my hips and let him get a look at the goods.

Like that would ever happen.

Crap, what was I going to wear?

I grabbed a pair of jeans from my floor and wiggled them on, not really paying attention to which ones they were.

I reached into my closet and pulled the closest shirt off the rack. I tied my hair into a ponytail and slipped on a comfortable pair of ballet flats.

I hoped Beckett hadn’t planned on five-star dining because I was dressed more for a McDonalds milkshake before hanging with the bowling league.

“Sorry,” I said, out of breath, opening the door and letting Beckett inside.

“I was starting to think I needed to break in and make sure you hadn’t gotten stuck in the toilet or something.” Beckett looked damn near perfect in a dark pair of jeans and button-up blue shirt the same color as his eyes.

He had even gotten a haircut. Way to make me feel like a total underachiever in the getting ready department, buddy.

“Looks like you cut yourself,” I said, indicating the piece of toilet paper stuck to his chin.

“Fuck. I forgot about that,” he muttered, pulling it off, looking embarrassed.

“You should have left it there. It’s cute,” I teased, putting on my black wool coat.

“You ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” I gave him a wide smile and he laughed.

“I’m not taking you to your death by firing squad. You could act a bit more excited.”

I jumped up and down, clapping my hands together. “OMG, Beck! I can’t wait!” I gasped.

“Is that better?” I asked, closing my apartment door behind me and locking it.

“Much.” Beckett leaned down and I swear he was checking out my ass.

“Excuse me, but what in the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

“Are you aware that the Cheshire cat is on your right butt cheek?”

I craned my body to get a look at what he was talking about. And sure enough, there was a bright purple patch with the damn Cheshire cat on my derriere.

“I must have picked up the wrong jeans,” I groaned. These were my hanging-out-doing-laundry jeans. Not meant to be seen by anyone but myself and the cat.

“I was in a rush. I couldn’t figure out what to wear. It was stressful,” I tried to explain, pulling my coat down over my feline-covered bum.

“The last thing I want is to stress you out, Cor-Cor.”

I smacked his arm. “I thought I warned you about using that damn nickname,” I threatened.

“I show up with toilet paper stuck to my face and you have a cat on your butt. I think we make a pretty awesome pair,” Beckett snickered, unlocking his car.

I started to open the passenger side door when he stopped me. “No! Wait!”

“Uh. Is there a problem?” I asked, holding my hands up and backing away from the vehicle.

Beckett hurried around to my side of the car and opened the door. “Now you can get in.”

“I’m quite capable of opening my own door, Beckett. I was born after 1950, you know.”

I got in and buckled my seat belt, tickled more than I should be by his behavior. I had never had a guy hold a door open for me before. It wasn’t something that I had ever thought much about.

But it was sort of nice.

Not that I would ever admit that out loud.

To anyone.

“My momma raised me right, Corin. And that means treating the woman I’m with like a lady.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Lame.”

“Yeah, well, that’s all I have going for me because I don’t know where the hell I’m taking you,” Beckett said.

“What? You don’t know where we’re going? What kind of first date is this?” I asked, chuckling. It was funny. Really, really funny.

We were such a strange pair. It was kind of perfect.

“You weren’t the only one stressing out. Why does it always have to be up to the guy to figure out where to eat and what to do?” he complained, turning the car on.

“Says the guy who insists on opening my car door for me like I don’t have my own hands.”

“Well, Miss I’m-My-Own-Woman, where should we go? And does that mean you’re going to pay for me?”

“Don’t go too crazy,” I joked. We grinned at each other and any concerns I had about going on a date with Beckett disappeared.

I forgot that I was weird and awkward when I was around him. Mostly because he seemed to dig that about me.

“So what do you feel like eating? There’s a nice French restaurant by the river,” he suggested.

“You’ve seen the cat on my butt. I don’t think I’m dressed for anything French. I could go change if you really want to—”

“No way. It gives me an excuse to check out your ass all night.” Beckett smirked and I bit down on my lip.

“Should I give it a little shake for good measure then?”

Beckett’s eyes brightened. “Would you? Pretty please?”

I groaned. “How about we figure out where we’re going to eat before I starve to death? We can talk about my butt later.”

As if on cue, my stomach growled. Loudly.

“Okay, obviously we need to prioritize here. If you don’t want fancy, what are you in the mood for?”

“Lasagna?” I asked seriously.

Beckett narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re the funniest woman I know,” he deadpanned.

I winked at him and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Seriously, I’m a meat and potatoes kind of girl. Nothing special.”

“Ahh, then I know just the place.”

We didn’t drive far and pulled up in front of a restaurant I hadn’t been to in years.

“How did you know about this place?” I asked, getting out of the car.

“My dad used to bring me here after baseball practice,” Beckett said, giving me a strange look. “Have you been here before?”

I nodded and swallowed thickly. “With my parents.”

“Do you not like it? We can go somewhere else—”

“No, it’s fine. Perfect actually. I love the food here.” I plastered a smile on my face and breathed through the pain. But it wasn’t overwhelming.

Not this time.

Beckett took my hand, so naturally, like he had done it a thousand times, and we walked into the tiny diner on the edge of town. It smelled just how I remembered it. Like fried food and apple pie.

Beckett led us to a booth, handing me a menu after we sat down.

“It hasn’t changed at all,” I said in wonder, looking around.

The Star City Diner was a piece of my history I hadn’t thought about in a long time. But now I remembered drinking chocolate malts and eating piles of mozzarella sticks.

I had forgotten the simple joy of cracked plastic booths and sticky menus. It had become mired down by other memories.

“I find it a little crazy that we’ve lived in the same town most of our lives and have never met until now,” Beckett commented, and I had to wonder at the same thing.

Southborough, Virginia, wasn’t a big place. How was it that we had never crossed paths until we happened to be in the same support group?

But timing was everything. And perhaps we hadn’t met until fate had felt that we were ready. Until we were at a place in our lives where we desperately needed each other.

“Did you go to Central High School?” I asked, and Beckett shook his head.

“I went to Mountain Valley. My parents live right on the border between the districts so I ended up over there.”

We placed our orders, burgers and fries all around. No surprise there.

“Well, I never went out much, so maybe it’s not that surprising we’ve never crossed paths,” I admitted.

“It’s a shame,” Beckett mused.

“What is?”

Beckett’s smile was sweet and oh so swoony. “That I didn’t find you sooner.” His eyes twinkled. My eyes twinkled.

I tried really hard not to let out a loud, noisy sigh.

“This is nice. I’d rather do this than sit in some stuffy restaurant where you can’t speak above a whisper.” Beckett took a drink of water.

“I’m lucky if I get a microwave dinner most nights, so this is great.”

“So you don’t cook?” he asked.

“Oh I cook. I just choose not to. Not much of a point when you’re cooking for one.” Yep, I was the loser who ate by herself while feeding the cat table scraps and trying not to get teary during Hallmark commercials. Way to look like a winner, Corin!

“Well, I could burn water. I used to try and help my mother with dinner when I was a kid, but I usually ended up setting something on fire. The kitchen is a scary place for me.”

“Maybe I need to give you a cooking lesson or two. My mom taught me everything I know.”

“Really? That’s cool. What’s your mom like?” he asked innocently, sipping on his iced tea.

“Dead,” I said bluntly.

Christ! Why had I said it like that?

Beckett went pale, his mouth falling open. “Corin, I didn’t know. I’m so sor—”

“You do not need to tell me you’re sorry. It happened a long time ago.” I was mortified that I had thrown that particularly tragic fact into his face. I had given the poor guy no warning. I really did suck at the whole first-date thing. Which is why in my less than stellar romantic history, there wasn’t often a second one.

“So you were raised by your dad?”

“Uh, he’s dead too.” Ack! What was wrong with me? There had to be a better way to tell him this stuff!

Beckett ran his hand through his hair. “I’m two for two on the clueless asshole scale tonight it seems.”

“Beck, you didn’t know. I don’t really talk about it.”

Then the awkward silence.

Way to go, Corin. This had to be a new record. Killed the date in less than thirty minutes. I was waiting for him to ask for the check. I wouldn’t have blamed him.

“Can I ask if you have siblings? Please don’t tell me they’re dead too,” he begged.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. There was nothing else to do but chuckle at the ludicrousness of the situation I had put us in. “No, but sometimes I wish she was.” My humor was so off the mark tonight it was ridiculous.

My mouth was uncomfortably dry and I took a drink of water. “I have an older sister, her name’s Tamsin. She’s a lawyer. She’s married. She’s a huge bitch.”

“Does she put that on her résumé?” Beckett asked with absolute seriousness.

“She probably should. It’s her greatest talent.” I smirked.

Our food came and we were silent for a few minutes as we dug in. I shoved food in my mouth in hopes I couldn’t screw this up any worse than I already had.

If Beck wanted anything to do with me after this, it would be a miracle.

I started to mourn the loss already.

“Did you go to college?” Beckett asked, after inhaling his burger in a matter of minutes.

I dipped a fry in ketchup. “No, I didn’t go to college. Adam and I opened the studio right after graduation. He wasn’t planning to go off to school and I didn’t really have plans to either. So we opened the shop.”

“You’ve been friends with Adam for a while then?”

I nodded. “Since high school.”

“He’s kind of an odd guy.”

“Ah, you picked that up, huh? He’s…well…hard to get to know. He’s all right though. So tell me about you. I want all the deep dark secrets.” I deftly maneuvered the conversation to him, not wanting to spend any more time on my dismal life.

“Well, you already know about my old love of photography and my bone-deep hatred of lasagna and herbal tea. I’m not sure there’s anything else to tell you.” Beckett finished his fries and pushed his now-empty plate to the edge of the table.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

Beckett tapped his fingers on the table. “Before the cardiac arrest, I was your standard shallow jock. I got drunk on the weekends with my friends and played Call of Duty when I got home from work.”

“And now?” I prompted.

“And now, I’m not sure what I’m doing if I’m honest.” Uh-oh. Existential crisis alert.

“How about we look at this another way? Instead of asking yourself what you’re doing, think about what you want to be doing.” Clearly I had missed my calling as a motivational speaker.

“I’d like to be living on a beach somewhere, taking pictures for a living.”

“That sounds pretty awesome. So what’s holding you back?” I asked, taking another bite of my burger.

Beckett looked thoughtful. “I don’t know really.” He seemed surprised by his answer.

“What do you do? For a day job I mean?” I swirled a fry in the ketchup, creating circles on my plate. I enjoyed grilling him. I liked finding out tidbits of information about the person that he was. I had a feeling that he let me see more than most. And that was incredibly flattering.

“I’m a sales manager for a software development company. Can we say snoozeville?”

“Okay, yeah, so you’re not fighting crime in a red cape, but it can’t be that bad,” I reasoned.

Look at me, being all positive and stuff.

“It’s mind numbing, Corin.”

“Oh boo-hoo. How many people actually like their job?” I countered.

“You do,” he argued.

Well, he got me there.

“So if you hate it so much, do something about it. Go live on a beach. Become a photographer,” I challenged, wiping my mouth with my napkin and dropping it on my plate.

“You sound like my sister, Zoe.”

“Your sister sounds like a smart girl.”

Beckett laughed. “She’d agree with you. But you’re right. I can’t just sit around complaining about my life. I need to do something. That’s why I’m thinking of taking some photography classes over at the community college.”

“That sounds like a great start, Beck.”

His eyes went soft every time I used his nickname. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

When the bill came, Beckett handed it to me. “You’re paying, right?” I rolled my eyes and he winked at me, clearly finding himself pretty damn funny.

When we were finished, we walked back to the car.

“So where to next?” I asked, really hoping he wouldn’t take me home. I thought dinner had gone well despite my bad case of verbal diarrhea.

“You want to come back to my place?” Beckett suggested.

“Uh…” Back to his place?

Wasn’t that code for sex?

Did he want to have sex with me?

Why was I saying the word “sex” so much in my head?

Sex. Sex. Sex.

“I just thought we could watch a movie or something,” Beckett explained.

What I heard was mumble, mumble, sex, mumble.

“Corin. I see the wheels turning in that head of yours. Is there a problem?”

“Do you want to have sex?” I blurted out just as we reached the car. I said it a little too loud, earning me a few stares from strangers walking by.

Beckett sputtered and choked. “Excuse me?”

“Coming back to my place is a euphemism, right? For sex.”

Now I was saying the word sex out loud. It was like having Tourette’s.

Hey, how are you doing? Sex!

Nice weather we’re having. Sex!

“I wasn’t using it as a euphemism for anything. I promise! I really wanted to know if you’d like to watch a movie with me. Or we can go to a theater so there’s no insinuation.”

“You can have sex in a movie theater too,” I pointed out. Oh my god, when will I learn to shut up?

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. But I’ll take your word for it.”

We were still standing beside Beckett’s car. He was going to take me home. I was sure of it. And things seemed to be going almost decently.

“So, my place? No euphemism,” he said, grinning at me like I wasn’t a complete nerd.

“Sure.” I grinned back.

–

“Wow, this is your place?” I asked, after Beckett turned on the light.

“Yeah. I haven’t lived here that long. I moved in over the summer.”

“No roommates?”

“Uh, no. Not anymore,” Beckett answered, looking uncomfortable.

Oh.

The ex must have lived here too.

That made things a tad awkward.

I walked over to the mantelpiece and saw a couple of framed photographs. I recognized one as a black-and-white picture of the Ash Street bridge.

I picked it up. “Is this one you took the other week?”

Beckett shook his head. “No, that one is from middle school.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was a passion. This is amazing!”

“Thanks.” He seemed embarrassed but pleased. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who had a hard time taking a compliment.

“Seriously. You have to do something with this. You’re wasting your talent otherwise. I’m just blown away here,” I told him sincerely.

Beckett gave me a shy smile. “Really? You think so?”

“Absolutely! This is gallery quality! The lighting and the shadow are intense.” I breathed, leaning in closer to have a better look.

“That means a lot to hear you say that,” he remarked softly, coming up behind me. His front was practically pressed against my back.

“I say it because it’s true. I don’t say things unless I mean them. My dad used to say that I was his truth detector. Because I have never been a good liar. I’m horrible at it actually—”

“I’m making you nervous, aren’t I?” Beckett whispered into my ear, making me shiver.

I closed my eyes, willing my heart to slow down. It didn’t work.

“Yeah. You are.”

Beckett turned me around so that I was now facing him. I liked being able to look him in the eyes. Most of my life I had hated being tall. For once it didn’t bother me.

“Why am I making you nervous?” he asked, giving me an amused smile.

“Because I’ve got sex on the brain. I know you said it wasn’t a euphemism. But I’m here and we’re alone and I’m waiting for you to make a move. And it’s making me jittery, which means I will inevitably start saying stupid stuff. Please tell me to stop talking,” I pleaded.

“You make me nervous too, you know,” he confessed, his voice still barely above a whisper.

“I make you nervous? Why?” I scoffed.

Beckett tucked a piece of hair that had gotten loose behind my ear, letting his fingers trail down my cheek. “Because the way I feel when I’m around you is crazy. It’s out of control. I just want to touch you. I want to be with you. All. The. Time. That’s nuts, right? We haven’t known each other that long. But I swear, I feel like you know me better than some who have known me for years.”

I sucked in a breath and bit down on my lip. His eyes dropped to my mouth, heated. “I feel the same way.”

“Good,” Beckett murmured. “I’m going to kiss you. We’re not going to have sex. Not tonight. But I want to kiss you. And maybe grope you a little bit if you’re cool with that.” He chuckled and I poked him in the stomach.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

He pulled me into him, his hands sliding up my arms to settle on either side of my neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly before kissing me.

And man, did he kiss me.

His tongue gently pressed against the seam of my lips and I parted them instantly. He plunged his tongue into my mouth, invading me. Taking over.

I could have kissed him like that forever. Forget eating and sleeping. All I needed was this man’s lips on mine.

At least until I passed out from hunger or my bladder burst. But until then I’d be pretty damn happy with just the kissing.

“Mmm,” I moaned into his mouth. I could feel Beckett grin and I knew he liked the noises I was making. Which was good because I was vocal when I felt the girlie bits start to tingle apparently.

“You taste incredible,” he murmured, kissing the side of my neck.

“I was worried that I tasted like onions. I should have thought about that when I ordered dinner.” Even with the tingly girlie bits, my mouth spewed all sorts of nonsense.

Beckett’s tongue touched the sensitive skin on the underside of my jaw and I quivered. I honest to god quivered from my head to my toes.

He ran a line from my up to my ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and biting down. But it didn’t hurt. Not at all.

“Mmm,” I moaned again, louder this time.

“You taste perfect. I can’t get enough of you,” Beckett rasped, and I was pretty sure I was going to melt into a puddle of lady juice onto his floor.

“Well, stop licking me and kiss me again, damn it,” I demanded. Beckett chuckled, working his way ever so slowly back to my mouth.

“I like it when you get cranky.” And then he was kissing me again.

Beckett started backing up, taking me with him, never breaking the kiss. When he hit the couch with the backs of his legs, he sat down, pulling me down on top of him so that I straddled his lap.

Oh. This was interesting.

His arms wrapped around me, his hands going up into my hair. I felt him hard beneath me and I couldn’t help grinding against him.

It was Beckett’s turn to moan and it drove me completely wild. Things got heated really fast after that.

We were kissing so hard, so deep that I felt dizzy. Then he broke away and started kissing a line from my mouth down my neck again. Sucking, licking. Tasting me like I was a freaking lollipop.

It was unbelievable.

“Oh my god,” I moaned as he started to rock his hips against mine. The girlie bits were on fire. I was wet and aching and damn sure we were wearing way too many clothes.

“Keep doing that,” I rasped, pushing myself down onto his crotch. I wanted to ride him like a bucking bronco. My inner cowgirl was ready to come out and play.

I was Corin, Wanton Dry Humping Goddess!

Beckett lifted me up off his lap and I whimpered. Hadn’t I made it obvious that I really liked that? Did I need to be more vocal? I thought I had been quite clear. What part of keep doing that had he not understood?

He laid me on my back and positioned himself between my thighs, bringing my legs up so they wrapped around his waist. He pulled the top of my shirt down so that he exposed my very pretty bra.

I was extremely proud of my pretty underthings. I was glad they weren’t going to waste.

Beckett was still kissing me and now his hands were squeezing my breasts. Fucking hell, that felt good!

“Come on, baby. Squeeze those suckers like a stress ball,” I groaned.

Cue the inner face palm.

But Beckett didn’t laugh. He seemed to be way past all that. He was entirely focused on the Corin goods. “Yes ma’am,” he panted, squeezing my boobs harder before tweaking my nipples.

“Whoa!” I screamed, arching my back off the couch.

“Too much?” Beckett asked, looking worried. His face was flushed and his chest was heaving.

He was the hottest man I had ever seen in my entire life.

And he had an erection because of me!

That was a powerful realization.

I pulled him back down and wiggled my chest. “It was just right,” I hummed, licking my lips.

Beckett didn’t need any more encouragement. He attacked my mouth again, both hands on my breasts. Then he was rocking against me. It was full on grinding. We were totally having sex. But with our clothes on.

“I told you it was a euphemism,” I said against his mouth.

“Stop talking about euphemisms,” Beckett shot back, pinching my nipple again. I yelped but then I started purring like Mr. Bingley when I scratched behind his ear. Because whatever Beckett was doing with his hands and my boobs was really, really nice.

We could have gone on like that indefinitely. Dry humping and groping and kissing like mad.

But then Beckett pulled away, sitting up and repositioning his crotch. “What are you doing?” I whined. I was enjoying that. A lot.

“I told you that I didn’t bring you up here for sex,” he explained.

“So?” I sounded petulant. Well, I was feeling petulant! I wanted his hands back on my breasts!

“This is our first date, Corin. I don’t want you to think that’s why I asked you out.”

Stupid chivalry. I thought it was dead, damn it!

I let out a sigh and fixed my shirt and straightened my ponytail. My lips felt swollen, which actually felt nice. Like a trophy from a hot make-out session.

“So do you want to watch a movie?”

“If we have to,” I pouted. Beckett laughed, kissing me again, and got up to put something on.

I don’t remember what movie we ended up watching.

Because I got my way in the end. Beckett lasted a whole twenty minutes before his tongue was down my throat and his hands were up my shirt.

And this girl got some boob action.

It was the best first date ever.