Beauty from Pain (Beauty, #1)(36)

Weird. Who’s here on Christmas Day? I push the intercom button. “Yes?”

“It’s me.”

It’s a man’s voice, but this is Ben’s apartment. How am I supposed to know who he is? “I’m sorry. Ben isn’t home.”

“It’s me, Lachlan.”

Well, shit. Do I talk to the phone or the intercom? “Lachlan! What are you doing here?”

“Do you really want to have this conversation with me standing downstairs?”

“Of course not. Sorry. I’m in apartment 311.” I press the button to allow him into the building and stand at the door waiting.

Shit, I look a mess. I’m wearing jogging pants with something stupid written across the ass and an equally stupid T-shirt. I’m not even positive my clothes don’t have stains or holes. My hair is piled into a messy bun on top of my head and I’m wearing my glasses. They’re trendy, but I’d still rather be wearing my contacts for Lachlan. Too late now.

He comes around the corner from the elevator dressed in dark stonewashed jeans and a white button-up. He’s as handsome as I’ve ever seen him and I want to crawl into a deep, deep hole so he can’t see me like this.

I smile because I can’t see him and not beam. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s Christmas. I didn’t want you to be alone. And I wanted to see you.”

“What about your family?”

“My mother was rather annoyed with me when I told her you were alone today. She insisted I come and spend the evening with you.”

Oh. I feel deflated when I realize this is his mother’s insistence.

I shrug and stare at my bare feet. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you so I look like hell.”

He reaches out and grabs the hem of my shirt, giving it a little tug. “You’re always beautiful. And I love the glasses.”

I’m dazed by his simple touch. He has that kind of power over me.

It takes a moment, but I finally come to my senses and invite him in. “I’m sorry. Come in.”

He prowls through the door and I feel him on my heels as I shut it. He grabs me from behind. I’ve come to accept this as his thing, but I like it.

He uses his hips to pin me against the door. His hands are pressed on each side of my head, locking me inside his cage of muscular arms. Because my hair is piled in a messy bun, he has easy access to my whole neck, but I realize I miss the glide of his hand pushing my hair over my shoulder. He leans forward and begins kissing the back of my neck, and I evanesce.

I know what he’s doing. He wants the thrill of screwing me in the rival’s territory. It means he’s won and I’m fine with him taking me as his prize.

He brings his hands to my hips and navigates me to the couch, but we don’t sit. He steers me to the arm until it hits me across the top of my thighs. I hear the sound of his zipper behind me and then the tearing of a foil wrapper.

A few seconds later, he pushes my pants and panties to my knees. Shit, I don’t remember which panties I’m wearing. I hope they’re not some of my old ones.

I feel his hand at my lower back and he pushes me over the arm of the couch. He glides a hand up my spine to my shoulders. I should be mortified at being bent over with my pants to my knees, but I’m not, and the thought dissipates altogether when he slides two fingers inside me. I rock back against his magic hand because I can’t hold still. It feels too good.

“You’re always so wet and eager.” I love the things he says to me when we’re like this. I implore him to say something else and he reads my mind. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” I manage to whisper, but I’m not as good at this as he is.

He takes his fingers out and I feel his hard tip sliding up and down. “Tell me where you want me.”

“Inside me.” It comes out a little louder, but still barely more than a whisper.

“When?” He’s still teasing me, but uses a little more pressure.

“Now,” I manage to say a little louder.

“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you, Paige. When did you say you want me?” He’s taunting me.

“Right now!” I scream as I push back and force him inside me.

I hear him hiss through his teeth. “Then right now you shall have me.”

I feel his hands on my hips and I hear him groan as he sinks deep inside me with more force than I thought possible. I call out from the shock of it. “You like it this way, don’t you?”

I can’t lie. I love it. “Yes.” It’s all I can manage with him pounding into me.

He slows his pace a little and I feel one of his hands leave my hip to slide down my spine. “I love having you this way.”

I’m like a cat bending to his touch. He holds so much power over me … I wonder if he knows.

I spiral until he takes me to that place, the one where I implode as he drives hard into me one last time. A few moments later, I feel his kiss against my back. “Pack a bag. You’re coming home with me. But don’t change. I want you just the way you are.”

He doesn’t have to ask me twice.





18

Jack McLachlan

Paige is in her room packing when I hear the lock jiggle. Ben Donavon comes through the door to find me in his living room, sitting on the arm of his couch—the same one I just bent Paige over—and I stifle my laughter. He’s not happy with my presence and is about to question it when Paige comes out of her bedroom.