“But,” she whimpered.
“No buts,” Beau said as he withdrew totally and waited a few seconds before settling back inside her, his thickness filling her completely. “We’ve got all night and Bets?”
His blue eyes were as dark as wet denim. “What?” she answered breathlessly.
“I’m only getting started.”
Chapter Twenty-four
BEAU HAD BEEN awake for at least a half an hour with Betty curled against him, her back to his chest, her head pillowed on his arm. An arm that was asleep and killing him, but there was no way in hell he was moving.
Seeing Betty like this—asleep, relaxed, and vulnerable—was like watching a sleeping tiger. He wanted to stretch it out as long as he could because he had a feeling that once she woke up, that relaxed and vulnerable side he was starting to really like, would disappear.
And damn, he’d like to hold on to it for a little while longer.
Beau inhaled the fresh scent that clung to her hair and nuzzled the back of her neck as he pushed the hair away from her skin. His eyes caught sight of the tears that she’d inked into her skin. Tears that represented what? Pain? Hope? Betty and her sisters?
He had no idea what they meant but something about them made his chest tight because he was pretty sure they were linked to what had happed to her when she was younger.
His fingers drifted over them—one, two, then three—and suddenly he was filled with a whole bunch of stuff he’d never felt before. It was a hot surge of something that rifled through him and had Beau tightening his grip on Betty, holding her close so he could hear her breathe.
Feel her heart beat against the palm of his hand.
It confused the shit out of him. Was it the need to protect Betty? The need to punish the men who’d hurt her? Or was it deeper?
“Shit,” he murmured as he relaxed a bit against the pillow, his eyes on the ceiling. He wanted Betty in his goddamn movie. A movie that he wanted to direct. But how was that going to work? He didn’t believe in mixing his private life with his professional. It happened all the time in Hollywood. But nine times out of ten, things ended badly.
These feelings—whatever they were—were going to complicate things.
Her ass pressed into his groin and his body responded immediately, his cock hardened. That’s all it took. A touch.
She moved her hips slowly and stretched, turning slightly so that she was on her back. His free hand fell to her breasts—a goddamn Priest wouldn’t be able to resist—and he rolled her nipples softly between his fingers, smiling when she groaned and turned all the way until her eyes were looking into his.
“Good morning,” he said softly.
“Hey,” she replied.
For several long moments they stared at each other in silence and for several long moments that tight feeling inside Beau grew. It stretched and lengthened until…
“Don’t do that,” Betty said, her voice husky and low.
He pushed her hair back from her shoulder, and pressed a kiss to the side of her exposed neck. Right there where she was marked.
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t make this anything other than what it is.”
He smiled against her. Seemed as if his sleeping tiger was awake.
“And what is this exactly?”
She rolled over and pushed against him until he was flat on his back and she was lying across his stomach. “Sex,” she replied, leaning forward her hot, moist, mouth on his abdomen.
Betty trailed kisses across his chest, up to his mouth where she planted a soft butterfly kiss on his lips.
“It’s just hot…” She straddled him and gazed down, her long hair framing a face that was unforgettable.
“Sex…” She continued, tossing her hair out of the way as her breasts swayed in front of him.