She looked at him. Magnetic. His dimples just a slight outline on his surprised face.Beckett exhaled her name, like it came from deep within him. She put her fist to her lips.She walked to him, pushed against his chest, and growled his name back at him. He gathered her hard against him, slamming his front door behind her.The smell of him, the feel of his strength --knowing he could easily take what she’d dish out flooded her sex.Face to face, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, it felt like the first to give in to the kiss was the loser. And it was every inch a war. Eve ripped his expensive button-down shirt open, buttons flying like popped corn.He grabbed her wrists and she winced. Beckett held tight. She tilted her chin at him. Daring him to try something, anything.He twirled her so her back was against the wall. For a second she thought he was going to bite her neck, yet he stopped just before his lips could touch her skin. He passed his mouth over her, his heated breath was ragged. She felt his moist want on her chest, across the tops of her breasts, all the while holding her injured wrists too tight.This man knew exactly how to grind her into an animal. With him there was no passion, just sexual fights. Almost mating, wild and deadly.She yanked with her wrists, pulling her hands to his face, the entire time counter balanced by his tight grip.He was made of venom, primed for an attack. She was close, lips almost touching. Her nipples pressed to his hard chest. She licked her lips, the tip of her tongue making contact with his bottom lip because they were so close.Like lighting a bomb, her tongue was his fuse. He punched the wall by her head, either side, over and over. She didn’t flinch.Every strike so near, their fucked up foreplay. His violence timed with her rapid heartbeat. All she could hear was the blood rushing through her body.Finally, he stopped and with an almost super-human effort he pushed away from her, grabbing his hair.“Damn it, Eve. Why’d you come here? Why are you here?” He was suspicious, hurt, sexual. He stepped behind his couch, giving them both a barrier.“I don’t know. I couldn’t stop myself.” She hugged her arms to her chest. Just a taste of him was crazy. Her body shuttered with the want.
Livia was lying the dark, wide-awake when he entered. “Beautiful, you’re supposed to be asleep.”
“I can’t figure out how to make my brain shut off.” He was in jeans and t-shirt, hair a mess from his own hands. Whenever he was composing he took it out on his head. It was endearing.
“Okay. Hold up.” Blake went into the bathroom and started the water in their huge garden tub.
He came in with a tray from downstairs that was lined with candles, a light stick, and a bottle of wine.
“Your favorite.” He nodded at the bottle. He disappeared into the bathroom and Livia had to follow him. She put her fuzzy robe on over her penguin pajamas.
He set the candles up and lowered the lights. He put his phone on the counter with his own compositions playing softly.
“Wooing me with your own music?” She teased him.
“It’s all I have on my phone, I was recording downstairs.” He added her favorite body wash and let the foam bubble up. “And don’t make fun of me.”
Blake opened the wine and handed her the bottle. “Want me to get glasses? I couldn’t fit them.”
Livia took a swallow, spilling the wine down her robe by accident. “Wow. I really thought I was going to pull that off. Wine’s heavy.”
He took the bottle and drained an impressive amount before handing it back to her. “Better? That stuff tastes like fruit punch by the way.”
“Thanks for taking some for the team.” She set the bottle down and undid her robe.
He began a running commentary. “The beautiful brunette removes her wine-stained robe for her lover. And is it? Yes, dear God yes it is. She’s wearing the penguin pajamas.”
Livia tossed her robe at him and hugged her body, laughing.
“Oh, how can a woman so decadently dressed be so coy. She is a conundrum.” He wrapped one hand around her waist and pulled her hard to him.
Her only view was his sharp jawline with a bit of stubble and his white teeth in a smile.
“This penguin with the ice cream cone?” He pointed to the one on her chest. “Pure sin.”
She rolled her eyes. “Such a sweet talker. The tub’s about to overflow.”
"And yet she was all he could think about. When he was feeling gracious, he pictured her snuggled in a warm sweater under some lucky fuck’s arm.
And when he was feeling jealous, which was most of the goddamn time, he pictured her naked under some nameless three-pump chump. Being a girlfriend or a wife.
God, please not a wife.
The pistol lay between his legs, the liquor sat in the seat next to him like a true friend.
Do it, you pussy-headed motherfucker.
But the sky was too blue. And his hand kept shaking.
Beckett was afraid of the gun. It was more final than time. It wouldn’t erase the pain, and he was afraid that after his body was wasted, the only thing left would be fear. And he fucking despised fear."