Hard to Let Go (6 page)

He released her hand and shoved his into his pockets.

Well. Okay, then. “I appreciate that,” she said.

He tilted his head and nailed her with that intense blue stare. “Just be smart about it. All right?”

Kat rolled her eyes. He couldn’t stop while he was ahead, could he? “Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. I might not have the same expertise all of you do in covert operations, but I’m not an idiot, Beckett. Like I would be anything but smart knowing people’s safety is on the line.”

She threw her hands out and shook her head.
Ugh. Why bother?
Without waiting for him to respond, she made for the door, stabbed her finger against the buttons on the pass-code box, and grabbed the handle. Then something
else
came to mind. Might as well get all the fun stuff out on the table, right?

She turned back to him, not surprised to find him scowling at her. “While we’re having this awesome conversation, let me add a request for you to please keep what happened earlier quiet. Not sure why Derek felt the need to be matchmaking a while ago, but I’m really hoping it’s not because you said something. ’Kay? Thanks.”

Stepping inside, she remembered Eileen.

“Oh, and bring in the damn dog.”

F
UCK THIS,
B
ECKETT
thought. He followed Kat inside and made a mental note to come back for the dog later. He hadn’t said one goddamn word about what they’d done. To anyone, let alone Marz. For Christ’s sake. As if he wanted anyone else to know.

No way he was letting that accusation stand unaddressed.

He stalked inside in time to see the door to the first-floor tattoo shop clicking shut. The stairwell remained otherwise quiet, so his gut said Kat had retreated to the quiet of the now-closed Hard Ink Tattoo. Perfect.

Beckett crossed the stairwell, his boot steps echoing inside the concrete and metal. The second he rounded the corner into the mostly dark lounge at the back of the shop, his gaze landed on Kat pacing in the middle of the square space.

Backlit by a security light in the hall behind her, she spun on her heel to face him, her resentment palpable even though he couldn’t make out her expression. She didn’t want him here, didn’t want to be around him, probably wanted nothing to do with him at all. And, boy, if those feelings directed his way weren’t really fucking familiar. Story of his goddamned life. Until the Army, at least.

Didn’t have that anymore, though, did he?

“Beckett,” Kat said, her tone part groan and part plea.

He planted his feet and fought against the ancient gut reaction to flee from where he wasn’t wanted. Because, damn it all to hell, he’d perfected the ability to hear the
I don’t fucking want you around
message from a mile away. He’d grown up on that shit. But this was Nick Rixey’s sister. And out of respect for the man he’d fought and bled with for many years, he wasn’t leaving Katherine with the impression that he’d violated her trust or her privacy. “Just hear me out, and then I’ll leave you alone. Okay?”

“What more could you want to say?”

Part of him wanted to approach her so he could see her expression and look into those brilliant green eyes. But she stayed where she was, so he followed her cue and did the same. “I didn’t say anything. What happened, that was just between me and you. I wouldn’t disrespect you by sharing something so private. And I’m not some eighteen-year-old kid who can’t keep his mouth shut.” He reined in his irritation, because giving voice to it wasn’t going to help a damn thing.

Kat paced a few steps closer, bringing her beautiful face out of the shadows. “Okay,” she said. “Thank you for that.” She sighed and paced a bit closer yet. Beckett tracked her movement like a lion tracked prey. The closer she came, the more something deep inside him wanted to pounce.
For fuck sake.
“Look, I’m sorry for taking your head off out there. Sometimes I just need some alone time to get my shit together, and that’s hard as hell to get around here.”

The sentiment sounded so much like something he might say that Beckett actually chuckled. “Damn if that isn’t true.”

Kat gave a little laugh, too.

And the sound of it reached inside him and . . . unsettled him. He liked it, that was for sure. He liked giving her a reason to smile or laugh. It made him feel like . . . like he had some value. Like he wasn’t just a giant pain in the ass. “You never seem like you don’t have your shit together, though.”

It was true. Kat was tough, feisty, confident, competent. According to Nick, she hadn’t hesitated to grab a weapon and follow the guys up onto the roof to defend against the attack that destroyed part of the building. She hadn’t even needed to be asked. And she’d stepped up immediately to take shifts in the snipers’ roosts. On top of it all, she was a highly educated lawyer willing to put it all on the line to protect her family. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman as badass as Katherine Rixey.

“Well, I guess that’s good to know. I’m just . . .” She shrugged and ducked her chin.

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing . . .”

Beckett wasn’t having that. He
needed
to know what she’d almost said. Because this was the most real conversation they’d ever had. No snark, no anger, no audience. And after what had happened between them this afternoon, that seemed to matter. So he closed the distance between them and tilted her chin up with his fingers. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened at the touch, and damn if those little physical reactions didn’t reverberate through his blood. “What?”

For a long moment Beckett didn’t think she’d answer, and then the words started pouring out of her. “Have you ever felt . . . just . . . angry? And not known what to do with it? How to direct it? How to get rid of it?” She raked her hand through the top of her hair, causing it to cascade around her shoulders. “I’m freaking pissed that this—all of this—happened to Nick. And all of you. It’s
so
unfair. And that Jeremy’s in such danger. I mean, Beckett, if you could’ve seen that roof fall out from underneath him—” Her voice went thin and her eyes went bleak. She shook her head and visibly reined in her emotions. “If I hadn’t happened to drop in for a visit on Friday, I wouldn’t have known about any of it. Because Nick would’ve kept me in the dark. I mean, shit, I should almost thank Cole for jump—” She swallowed the words like she’d said more than she wanted, then threw up her hands and spun away, agitation rolling off her.

Beckett frowned as his instincts jangled. What the hell had she been about to say? And why did her mention of another man’s name feel like such shit? “Who’s Cole?” he asked, watching her closely.

She just shook her head.

But, for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint, the answer felt important. He crossed to where she’d paced and came up behind her. “Who’s Cole?”

Waving a hand, she shook her head again. “Just a guy. Doesn’t matter.”

The more she deflected, the more he was sure it
did
matter. Beckett replayed her words in his head and tried to make sense of them.
I should almost thank Cole for jump—
Jump? Jumping to conclusions? What?

She turned to face him, giving him a smile he didn’t really believe. “See? My shit is
so
not together.”

He sensed that she was shuttering up, and it was the last thing he wanted. Because the stuff she was saying . . . it resonated with him. Did he know what it felt like to be angry? Uh, yeah. And then some. It was quite possible that Angry was his middle fucking name. Had been for years. So, yeah, he got it.

“The anger,” he said, hoping to keep her from clamming up. “I get it. The key is not to let it get the best of you, but use it. Let it build a fire inside of you. You’ll need it to get through this clusterfuck. To get you through the exhaustion and the stress and the worry. Way more powerful than fear.” Digging into that dark, restless energy inside him was how Beckett had powered through the most intense moments of his SF career. The only good thing his father had ever done for him was prepare him for how to endure and persevere through the worst sorts of hell. And every time Beckett had persevered, had come out the other side unscathed, it felt like a giant
fuck you very much
to his father.

She gave him an appraising look. “Is that what you do?”

Beckett nodded, even though he wasn’t sure he really had it under control. Which meant he could snap, just like his father had—so many times. “Something like that.”

Rolling her shoulders, she took a deep breath. “Thanks, Beckett. Just venting actually helped a lot.” She gave a small chuckle. “Although I can’t believe I just dumped all that on you. And I am sorry I took it out on you.”

He’d . . . helped her? An odd feeling bloomed inside his chest. He resisted pressing on his sternum to try to make it go away. “Uh, well. Good. That’s good.”

“Thank you,” she said. And then she closed the distance between them, threaded her arms around his waist and hugged him, her head settling on his chest.

Beckett was so stunned that, like the fucking emotional misfit he was, he didn’t immediately react.

“Sorry,” she whispered, pulling away as if embarrassed. As if she thought he didn’t want her embrace.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

“Stay,” he said, closing his arms around her back. He pulled her in tight.

And as they stood in the dark holding each other, Beckett had a goddamned ridiculous realization.

He could count the number of people who had hugged him before this moment on one finger—Becca, when she’d apologized to him for what they’d all thought her father had done. Before that, Beckett couldn’t ever remember being hugged. Not once.

Chapter 6

T
he revelation was about as comfortable as swallowing glass. Beckett wanted to run from it. Hard and fast.

Problem was, his arms wouldn’t let Kat go. His body refused to pull away. In fact, the louder he yelled at himself to get the hell out of there, the more firmly he hugged Kat against him.

She squeezed him tighter in return, and he was acutely aware of how her body fit against his. Her heart beat quicker against his abdomen. Soft puffs of her breath caressed his arm. Muscles that had been relaxed tensed. Her hands gripped his back tighter, with more purpose, with something that felt like want.

Beckett didn’t think he was imagining any of this. And it lit a fire inside his body, one that had his blood heating and his heart racing and his cock hardening against her belly.

But he couldn’t act on any of it. Or at least he shouldn’t. First, because it’d only been a few hours since he’d taken her the first time, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her or make her feel like he was using her for sex. Second, because his gut reaction after their first time was that it had been a mistake, which meant he really shouldn’t repeat it. And third, because . . . because . . . Well, fuck. Screw a third reason. Two reasons were good enough.

Except then she tensed her stomach muscles against his erection, shifted her stance, and made a soft noise in her throat that sounded really fucking similar to a moan.

“Katherine,” he said, voice full of warning. Because he stood right on the knife’s edge between doing the right thing and taking her down to the floor and fucking her until neither of their legs would work for the rest of the night.

Slowly, Kat tilted her head back to look at him. And her face was a mask of desire. Mouth open, eyes hooded.

His hand slid in to the silk of her hair, and her eyelids fell closed.

It was like holding a priceless work of art in his hands. Beautiful. Compelling. Untouchable.

Except he was touching her. And he wanted more. His grip tightened in her hair. And the moan that spilled out of her as she went pliant in his arms made him rock hard. “What are you doing to me?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice no more than a breath. “But I think you’re doing it to me, too.” Her eyelids rose. “At least, I want you to.”

How the fuck was he supposed to resist
that
?

Her hands slid up his arms and settled on the bulk of his biceps for a long moment, and then they continued upward until they circled his neck. She had to push onto her tiptoes to lace her hands together, and in the process, dragged her body teasingly against his hard-on.

“Damnit, Kat, I’m trying to be a good guy here.” His arm banded around her lower back, supporting her weight and keeping her close. He felt like he stood on a slippery slope, the loose gravel under his feet taking him down no matter how much he tried to stay in place.

“Why?” she asked.

Breath coming faster, he nailed her with a hard gaze. “Because if I let myself off this fucking leash, I’m going to be all over you.”

“Beckett.” She pushed upward until her mouth neared his ear. “Let go.”

What happened next was a frenzy of kisses and shedding clothes and moaned encouragements. Beckett stripped her of her sweater in a quick movement and himself of his T-shirt. And then he made quick work of her jeans and shoes, too, manhandling her however he needed to get the job done. She was a goddess in a skimpy black-bra-and-panty set, but he wasn’t in the mood to appreciate aesthetics, and they soon joined the rest of her clothes on the floor. He kissed her and stroked her and moved her into the shadows of the far corner.

“Oh, my God,” Kat rasped around the edge of a kiss. “Yes, yes.” Her hands undid the button and zipper on his jeans. Together, they worked the last of his clothing and boots off.

And then Beckett lowered himself into a crouch, hooked his arms under her thighs and lifted her up the wall until her legs slipped over his shoulders, placing her core right in front of his face.

He didn’t even give her a chance to react. He couldn’t. He was ravenous for her.

Holding her ass in his hands, he planted his mouth between her legs and licked and sucked and worried his tongue at her clit. He fed on her taste and her slick arousal and the way she pushed him tighter against her.

On a strangled scream, her fingers scratched at his scalp. “Fuuuck,” she whimpered, her voice quivering and high. Her thighs shook and tried to close around his head, but he used the width of his shoulders to hold her open to his mouth. “Jesus, Beckett . . .”

He sucked her clit into his mouth and flicked his tongue against it again and again and again. Relentless. Coaxing. Demanding.

Guttural moans spilled out of her as her orgasm hit, but Beckett didn’t let up one bit. He sucked her through it, basking in the fucking amazing glow of her ecstasy—and in the fact that he’d been the one to give it to her.

Not whoever the fuck this Cole was.

Where the hell did
that
come from?
No way was he trying to figure it out now.

When Kat stopped shaking against him, Beckett gently released his mouth from her sensitive flesh. Legs still over his shoulders, he allowed her body to slide a little lower so he could work kisses over her stomach, the mounds of her breasts, her nipples. Her hands gently held the sides of his head, encouraging him, urging him on. And then he looked up and met her gaze.

Goddamnit, she was gorgeous. The truth of it sucker-punched him every time he saw her.

“What do you want, Kat?”

She wore a small, dazed smile. “How could I possibly ask for
anything
after
that
?”

A soul-deep male satisfaction lanced through him, but he wanted to know what
she
wanted. He gave her thigh a little bite and devoured the surprised moan that spilled out of her like the greedy bastard he was.

“What. Do. You. Want?”

She licked her lips. “Get inside me.”

Hell, yeah. He pulled her off the wall, lowered her down his body, her legs sliding to the crooks of his arms, and centered her wet opening over the head of his cock. “Fuck. Condom.” He didn’t have one on him, as he hadn’t gone back up to his bedroom after their first time. He lifted her up, the withdrawal of her slick heat almost painful.

Her arms around his neck, she cupped the back of his head and seemed to search his face. “I’m on birth control. And I’m clean.”

Was she saying . . .
“Uh, Jesus. I’ve never had sex without a condom.”

“Ever?” she asked, her eyebrows rising.

He shook his head, which added to the spinning sensation currently rattling his brain around in there. Would she seriously welcome him into her body unprotected? And would he seriously consider doing it? Much as he feared his capacity to turn into his father, he was determined never to become one and chance doing to a child what had been done to him.

“I trust you, Beckett,” she whispered, kissing him softly on the corner of the mouth. “Take me. Please.”

This woman was blowing his mind tonight. She really was. Before he’d even made a conscious decision to do it, his body was responding to her request, lowering her down until his head rubbed against the soft, hot lips of her center. And then he was sinking deep. Skin on skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, the unfiltered heat and grip of a woman’s body around his cock unlike anything he’d ever felt. Except, this wasn’t just
any
woman. This was Katherine Rixey. Who was unexpectedly providing him with a whole series of firsts tonight.

And that wound him up. Hard.

“Hold on,” he growled. Using his arms to control the movement of her body, Beckett fucked her fast, needing more, more, always more. He might’ve worried that he was being too rough with her if it hadn’t been for the constant stream of “Yes, yes, oh yes,” she unleashed in his ear. Her words were almost a sob of pleasure, and they only cut off when another orgasm washed over her and stole her breath.

There was nothing as fucking gorgeous as the face of a woman shattered by the pleasure you gave her. Nothing.

Releasing her left leg to the floor, Beckett lowered her enough so she could balance on her one foot while he continued to hold the other leg up, freeing his hand to grip her hair and force her to arch her back. Still moving inside her, he soaked in the pleasured expression she wore on her face, the way her breasts bounced when he bottomed out inside her, the dance of her hair around her shoulders. Fucking gorgeous. Every damn thing about her. And it made him want to please her. Over and over. “Can you come for me again, Kat?”

“I . . . I don’t . . . know,” she rasped. “Oh, God, Beckett.”

“What do you need?” he asked, his voice full of grit at how the change in position made her so much tighter.

“Just don’t stop. Please.” Her nails dug into his shoulders.

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not as long as she wanted him, because in Beckett’s experience, that was fucking everything. So he kept thrusting hard and fast and deep, grinding his teeth against the pressure building low in his gut. Angling his hips, he made sure to roll his pelvic bone against her clit, goddamned intent on feeling her come one more time.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she breathed, her leg starting to shake.

He hiked her closer so that he was literally hunched around her, his cock gliding in and out on fast, shallow strokes that shoved him right to the very edge.

“Fuck, Kat. Too good,” he said, his orgasm bearing down on him.

“Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop,” she moaned.

Beckett battled back his own need for release and kept his hips moving until Kat buried her face in his chest and wailed. He wanted to roar in triumph as she came apart again. Instead, his orgasm nailed him in the back. On instinct, he pulled out of her, grabbed his cock, and yelled at the overwhelming intensity of his release, coming against her belly until he saw stars.

As their bodies calmed, Beckett gently released her leg, still holding onto her until she seemed steadier on her feet. Their labored breaths sounded loud in the otherwise silent room, and a boulder of regret parked itself on Beckett’s shoulders.

Not because they’d had sex again.

But because it was over.

H
OLY.
S
HIT.

Kat’s legs were made of Jell-O. She was sure of it.

Never in her life had she been with a man capable of lifting her and holding her the way Beckett did. His strength was an utter turn-on. His ability to pull orgasms from her a mind-blowing revelation. Couple all that with the look he’d worn on his face—the one that was part soul-deep yearning and part primal-male satisfaction—and she was . . . just . . . totally and completely blown away.

Still holding onto Beckett, she forced a deep breath. “Wow,” she managed.

“Wow, good?” he asked, voice full of gravel.

“You really have to ask?” She smiled at him, but realized he wasn’t smiling back. He was asking. Seriously. For some reason that made her chest ache. How could he not know? She cupped his handsome face in her hand. “Wow, very good.”

He nodded, and at least a little of the question eased from his expression. “Good.” He squeezed her hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed.”

“There’s a bathroom in the hallway.” As Beckett strode out of the room in all his naked glory, Kat wondered why he’d pulled out at the last minute. She didn’t mind. The heat of his seed spilling against her skin had been sexy as fuck.

Really, though, she had more important things to worry about. Like getting her sweater back on before Beckett noticed the bruises on her arms. Earlier, he’d gotten her top off before she even realized what he was doing. And in the heat of the moment, she’d forgotten about the marks. Thank God for the darkness in here. But the last thing she wanted to do was give Beckett a reason to hound her. Which, if he was anything like Nick with the crazy overprotectiveness, he totally would.

Quickly, she found and put on her bra. She had just stuffed her arms back in the sleeves of her sweater when Beckett returned. “Got chilly,” she said, giving him a small smile. She pulled the top over her head but held it up from her stomach.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping at her belly first with a set of warm, wet paper towels, and then drying her with a few others.

He’d thought to warm the towels.
Gah!
“Don’t be,” she said, keeping her voice casual so she didn’t give away that his thoughtfulness had touched her. She watched him clean her, his big hands working against her belly. God, he could be so gentle. Despite the strength. Despite his size.

Quietly, they sorted clothing from the random piles strewn across the floor. And Kat tried to make some sense of the thoughts sluggishly churning inside her head. Aside from the sex, what did she think of this man? Did it matter? Could this crazy, random, scorchingly hot sex just be all they were? They were single, consenting adults, after all. But could either of them really afford the all-consuming distraction being together caused? Because she hadn’t thought about anything else except Beckett Murda for the last . . . however long they’d been in here. She didn’t even know.