Stripped Down (12 page)

“Don’t hide it,” he said quietly, his gaze searching mine. “Your laugh. It’s too pretty to hide.”

My cheeks flushed red hot. “That’s the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“Really? Nobody has ever stopped to tell you that you have a great laugh?”

“Actually, now that you mention it, that is what my filtered inbox on Facebook is full of. ‘Hey! You have a great laugh. Here’s a picture of my dick.’”

Beck stared at me flatly. “Are they at least good dicks?”

I frowned. “As opposed to the bad ones who should be in orange jumpsuits?”

“Well, I get tit pics sometimes, and, sometimes, they’re good tits and, sometimes, they’re bad tits. No orange jumpsuits though.”

“Wait—so there are female creepsters too?”

“Sure. You wanna see?”

“Do I want to see pictures of women’s boobs? I’ll pass. I have my own pair to look at.”

He stopped. Then pointed at my chest. “For the record, really great tits.”

I stilled too. “For the record, the laugh thing? Cute. The tit thing? Not so much.”

“I’m not really a cute kinda guy. Honest, but not cute.” He shrugged. “When I touch upon it, I have to make some sexist, asshole comment to balance it back out again.”

“Aw, it’s like your own personal ying and yang.”

“Exactly that.” He grinned and grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt. He’d dragged it halfway up his body before he paused. “Wait. Will it bother you if I take this off?”

I glanced at the hint of his muscular stomach I could see—and that sinfully tempting V muscle dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. “Is that a trick question?”

His lips pulled to the side in one slow, even more tempting smirk. “I meant because of CiCi.”

“Oh. Well... I guess not.” Should it? I mean, naked men were everywhere. “She’s outside anyway. She isn’t getting out of the water until someone sends food.”

Beck pulled the T-shirt right over his head and dropped it on the counter next to my purse.

I needed to look away from the abs.

Look
away
from the abs.

Look away from the
abs
.

Look. Away. From. The. Abs.

I couldn’t look away from the abs.

Seriously. It was like a fucking disease. I’d never seen so much perfectly formed muscle on one man in my entire life. Hell, I’d never seen it at all, ever. There wasn’t an inch of his body, whether it was his shoulders, his arms, or his trim waist, that wasn’t tightly packed muscle.

He had so much that he could probably bench-press a freaking car.

Looking at Beckett Cruz shirtless was akin to watching ten porn movies back-to-back. My panties were wet just staring at the man.

This was bad. This was so, so bad.

I dragged my eyes away—somehow. Then I forced myself to turn my body and looked out to the yard and CiCi. The entire outer wall of this house was essentially made from windows, and since his porch wasn’t screened, it was only a hop, skip, and a jump to get to CiCi from where we were sitting.

“Should I put my shirt back on?”

I didn’t need to look at him to know he was smug. “It’s your house. You can do what you like.”

“That sounds like a yes.”

The words had come from right behind me, and I froze as his fingertips trailed down my back. A shiver cascaded down my spine, following in the wake of his touch, and I shuddered involuntarily.

“What are you doing?” The question had come out hoarsely.

“Nothing.” His hand settled at my hip, and judging by the fact that I could feel his body pressing against mine, he’d taken a step forward.

“Doesn’t feel like nothing.”

His chuckle was low, which made the hair on my arms stand on end. He reached between us and swept my hair around to one side. “This is me...resisting you.”

“You’re doing a really good job.”

“Aren’t I?” He kissed the side of my neck, which made me take a deep breath.

This was wrong.

Very wrong.

But was something so wrong supposed to feel so good?

That was how this felt. Good. Better than good. My skin tingled as the warmth from the kiss settled in, and my eyes fluttered shut for a brief second. I had to fight the urge to lean back against his hard body.

“Beckett. You need to stop,” I said breathily.

He stepped to the side, grabbed my knees, and spun me on the stool. A squeak escaped my lips at the suddenness of the twist, and I reached back and groped for the edge of the island when he wedged himself between my legs. I leaned right back so that the hard countertop dug into my back, but it was the farthest I could get from the man nestled against me.

His eyes, dark and dangerous, searched my face until our gazes met and his locked on mine. Another shiver danced its way down my spine, and I bit the inside of my cheek when he traced the backs of his fingers across my cheek.

“You’re right,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “I do need to stop.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because you’re more tempting than you think.”

“I’m really not,” I whispered, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I’m really quite boring.”

“I like boring.” He smirked, dipping his head so his lips brushed over mine.

“Beck—you can’t. CiCi can’t see you doing this.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her before he touched his nose to mine. “She’s too busy playing. She’s not paying us any attention.”

“That doesn’t mean she—”

He cut me off by touching his lips to mine. I had known that it was coming, but it didn’t stop the shock that darted through my body. It didn’t last long, barely long enough for me to even rest my hand on his arm, but my head still spun as he stepped back and looked at me.

Restrained lust shone back at me.

It took everything I had not to stand up and kiss him right back.

“I’m gonna go learn about Pascal the chameleon then order pizza. If you’ll stay for dinner.”

I slowly licked my lips. “We’ll stay.”

C
iCi lay flat on the rattan porch sofa, gently snoring. Her hair was wet from her post-pool, pre-dinner shower, and a half-eaten slice of pizza lay toppings-down on the floor.

And, now, I had to wake her up to take her home.

“CiCi?” I whispered, lightly touching her shoulder.

She didn’t move. She was totally wiped from over two hours in the pool—eventually with Beck too. Even as I’d watched her use her sweet six-year-old charm, I still couldn’t believe that my little, blond baby had managed to coerce that tall, dark, handsome man into the pool with her.

To his credit, he hadn’t complained once. Not even as she’d jumped on his back and pretended he was a dolphin... And accidentally pulled his hair.

“CiCi, girl, it’s time to go home.”

She snorted and rolled over, waving her arm at me, finally acknowledging me.

“Cassie,” Beck said softly from the doorway. “Why don’t you just stay here?”

I turned back to look at him. “That’s not really a good idea.”

“Look, I have spare rooms. Take one each. I’ll drop her off at school in the morning, take you home, and then it’s done. Don’t disturb her.”

“Like anyone could. She’s half dead,” I muttered.

His lips quirked. “Exactly. Carry her upstairs and let her sleep.”

“I...” My lips parted, and I looked between Beck and CiCi for a moment.
Sigh.

He was right. I couldn’t disturb her by bundling her into a car and back out of it just to avoid Beck. It wasn’t fair to her. It’s not like we weren’t safe there, and at this point, he was hardly a stranger.

Hell, if my daughter could ride on his back in a pool, she could stay in one of his spare rooms.

“Okay.” I felt like I was making a deal with the devil. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to carry her up?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and shook my head. “I’m good. I’ve done it a thousand times.” I walked around the side of the sofa, and with a, “Shh, shh,” I scooped her up into my arms.

She muttered something incomprehensible in her sleep as she snuggled into me, and I followed him into the house and up the stairs.

He led me into a room that was white, white, white. Literally every soft furnishing was white, whether it was a chair, the curtains, or the bedding. Even the freaking rug was white.

I stopped dead and hit him with a hard stare. “Really?” I whispered as quietly as I could. “You’re putting a child in a white room?”

He turned to me. “Is that not a good idea?” he whispered right back.

My lips thinned. Shit, the man was clueless. This was the blind leading the stupid. He was stupid for putting a six-year-old in a white room, and I was blind for allowing him the opportunity.

“Okay.” He waved me after him, and we walked right down to the opposite end of the hall. There, he pushed another door open. “Better?” he mouthed when CiCi tried to break free of my arms to roll over.

It was decorated in a mixed palate of reds and purples, and I smiled in my answer. Yes, this was better. There was no white. No chance she’d, you know, ruin the entire room just by waking up and getting out of bed. Extreme? Perhaps, but I wouldn’t have put it past her.

Beck pulled the covers back so I could slowly put her in the bed. She rolled out of my arms almost instantly and groped for—

Oh no. I’d left Cookie downstairs.

The man beside me grinned and pulled a stuffed cat from beneath his shirt.

Shit. I thought my heart had just melted through the floor.

He tucked her in with the cat and threw the covers over her.

I leaned forward and gently kissed her temple, whispering, “Night, little one,” in her ear, before I followed him back out the room. Slowly, I closed the door so she wouldn’t be disturbed by...well, anything. I knew she’d sleep right through to tomorrow.

Beck was already halfway down the stairs when I reached the top, and I went down after him, pausing when he stopped by the kitchen door.

“Glass of wine?”

I ran my hand through my hair. “I’m not really sure alcohol and you mix well together.”
Hell, you and I don’t mix well together.

“Does anything mix well with alcohol?”

“Yes. Masturbation.” I harshly clapped my hand over my mouth.

Oh fucking Jesus. Did I really just say that out loud?

What was it about Beckett Cruz and the uncontrollable urge to speak before I thought?

“I mean... I don’t know what I mean. Shit.” My cheeks burned as embarrassment ran through me. “Ignore that I just said that.”

He stared at me, his lips twitching, but his eyes showed the true story. They darkened a hint, their indigo swiftly changing to the color of the midnight sky. “I can ignore it, but I can’t unhear it, and I sure as shit can’t unthink what I just thought.”

“You know, I think I need that wine after all.”

The entire bottle. Every bottle. Hell, I needed a hammer to my head.

Why had I said that? Of all the things I could have said, that had to have been the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.

Damn it. I was totally sober, but I absolutely wanted to know what he’d just thought—even if I was sure I knew what it was. There weren’t exactly many options and hardly a thousand ways to masturbate.

And, if there were, I needed to spend more time online. Or reading Cosmo.

“I need a fucking mind cleanse,” he muttered. He rubbed his temple as he walked down the long hall and back into the kitchen.

Hesitantly, I followed him. This was awkward with a capital A. Hell, it was awkward in all caps. And italic. Bold. Underlined. On a billboard on the Strip.

It was the kind of awkward people wrote songs about. You know, if they did that kind of thing. Someone should. It would be a huge hit.

Someone speed-dial Taylor Swift immediately.

I hovered by the edge of the island, my hands tentatively resting against the smooth curve of the marble corner. For once, the kitchen looked lived in. Three pizza boxes lay haphazardly on the island, the bill he insisted on paying next to them. There were two small glasses with traces of blackcurrant juice pooled in the bottom of them and an empty, crushed bottle of Diet Pepsi, the lid long lost.

It looked like a kitchen in a house should. Loved. Not like it was a show home about to have an open house any moment now.

He noticed too. “A tornado went through here, I think.”

A small smile touched my lips. “I know. It looks like a real kitchen and not a showroom.”

“Are you saying my kitchen is abnormally clean?”

“Beckett, your entire house is abnormally clean. Not even your toilet paper is creased. I know you said you don’t always stay here, but god. You don’t even leave the toilet seat up!”

“I sit.” He smirked, sliding the wine glass across to me. “Less mess.”

In any other situation, that would have totally earned him husband points.

Hell, who was I kidding? I didn’t even want to be married to the man and he’d just earned a couple.

“Just leave it,” I said, tucking the lid of CiCi’s smaller box in and stacking the boxes. “There. Now, they’re cleaner. CiCi will help you eat the leftovers for breakfast.”

“What leftovers?”

“You don’t have leftovers?”