Provocation (Explicitly Yours 3)

Beau had given her a picnic under the stars, but he’d also given her a pair of brand new Converse in her size when any old tennis shoes would’ve been fine. He paid attention when it counted and when it didn’t. Lola’s love for Beau was as fresh as the wound he’d left her with. That was good. She needed to feel the sting of both in order to pull this off.

She checked the clock by the bed. 2:17 A.M.

Lola folded back the comforter, swung her legs over the side of the mattress and stood. Beau had given her a robe, so she slipped into it. She easily knew her way to his room in the dark.

She stopped in his doorway. Her life had changed in that room. In that bed, she’d given him everything that’d meant anything to her. She had crawled across the floor to him, opened her legs to his mouth, bit the comforter as he’d broken down her last barrier. In that moment, Lola’s love might’ve been hard to find, but her attraction to Beau was as loud as the beating of her heart. It was dangerous, and it’d require all of her strength to control it.

Lola tiptoed to the edge of his bed. His heavy, steady breaths told her he was sleeping peacefully. How could he not be when he’d gone so long without rest? She bent at the waist and peered at him in the dark. It would take nothing to hurt him. It would also be just as easy to fuck him. Was he naked? Did he dream of their two nights and what a third would be like?

His breathing stopped instantly. Before Lola could react, Beau’s arm shot out and grabbed her robe by the belt. “What are you doing?”

She touched his hand at her waist, his skin radiating warmth. When he didn’t object, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“What do you want, a lullaby?” His tone was harsh, but his hand slipped inside the robe. Her breath stuttered as her body reacted to his touch in an alarming way—thawing as if it’d been frozen and waiting for heat. It disgusted her, the way Beau aroused her. He didn’t deserve her, and he wouldn’t have her—but he had to believe he could. She knew from experience, hope was one of the most painful things a person could lose.

Beau’s palm flattened over her stomach and slid up around her waist. “Take this off,” he said. “Come here.”

She tightened the robe around herself but pulled back the covers and got in.

Beau sat up on an elbow and looked down at her. With his other hand, he touched the lapel of the robe. Lola’s heart nearly stopped. He’d promised to respect her wishes, but did it matter? Wasn’t it his way, to take what he wanted while making her think she wanted it too?

He moved his hand to her face, leaned in and kissed her. Every part of him was warm from sleep—his lips, the inside of his mouth, his breath. His thigh pressed against hers. She couldn’t ignore the dull throb between her legs. No matter how much he’d hurt her, she’d always want this. But Beau had taken it away from her. This was his fault.

She didn’t stop him right away. Men needed to touch and feel, to know she physically existed. It had to be done, and it had to be convincing, so she melted into the mattress, gripped his face and ran her fingertips down his scratchy cheeks. He opened his mouth wider, kissed her harder.

She pushed him back by his chest. They stared at each other, panting. “You promised,” she said.

“You crawled into my bed.”

“To be close to you.”

“Let me get this straight.” He placed his palm right below her throat, on the only skin the robe exposed. “You’re asking me to sleep next to you and not touch you?”

If Beau moved his hand any lower, if he commanded her, Lola wasn’t sure how she’d resist, but she had to. Her dignity was in shreds, but sleeping with him would destroy everything.

Lola rolled her lips together and glanced out toward the balcony, lit up from the moon. “I need time, Beau. You hurt me, and the worst part is, you did it on purpose. You can’t expect me to—”

Beau sat up and switched on the bedside lamp.

Lola shielded her eyes. “What’re you doing?”

“What do you think’s going to happen when you come in here in the middle of the night? After everything we’ve been through in this exact spot?”

Lola reached over him and turned out the light. It was too harsh. Maybe she’d come to him too soon, but they needed to mend the bond they’d broken, and it had to be fast. Too fast for him to realize it was happening. “Do you want me to leave?”

He lay on his back again, looked up at the ceiling and sighed as if he carried the weight of the world on his chest. “No.”

Lola put her hand on his bicep, softly stroking the hard muscle with her thumb. Touch was good—a weapon, even—as long as she could control it. “I’m not talking about your bed. Should I go?”

“I already told you. When I make a decision, it’s done. I invited you here tonight. You aren’t leaving.” He rolled his head toward her, removed her hand from his bicep and pulled her down next to him. “Not this room. Not this spot.”

Lola’s body thrilled, but it was with a different kind of adrenaline. This feeling—this kind of power over someone—it wasn’t like she’d never experienced it before, even with Beau. When her mouth was on his cock, or the moments right before she undressed, he’d get this look in his eyes like there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. This was something else, though. She was doing this to him with her words, using him against himself.

“Will you still feel that way tomorrow?” Lola asked. “What if—”

“I don’t do ‘what if,’ Lola.” Beau turned onto his side, put his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He yawned in her ear. It was a moment before he spoke again, and his voice sounded far off. “Tomorrow is tomorrow. We’ll deal with it then. If you’re worried I’ll wake up and…”

“And what?