America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(66)

I choke on a breath, because that’s not what I expected him to say.

“I get it, Sarah. You didn’t sign up for this. You didn’t ask to be shoved back in the public eye. So no rushing. I like you. I want you. But I don’t want you to think I’m kissing you just because we have a contract, because I’m not.”

My heart squeezes and my lungs tighten and my breath gets short.

He knows the right things to say. And I trust the raw honesty in his eyes and in his voice, which is scary.

Because Beck isn’t just Beck.

He’s everything I ran away from when I left high school. Famous. Followed by paparazzi. Navigating celebrity politics.

How can someone so deep in the game of putting on a face for the world feel so real?

“When I kiss you, I want you to know I’m kissing you because I want to,” he continues, his voice dropping into husky territory. “Not because it looks good. Not because you just happen to be the woman saving my ass in a business deal. But because I like you.”

My hesitant hand goes to his thigh, and I squeeze the tight muscle. “I like you too.”

“Scary as hell, isn’t it?”

“Scarier.”

He grins, and I sink back into my seat with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry you’ve been taken advantage of,” I say softly.

“I chose this life. I knew the risks.” He covers my hand with his and squeezes.

“It shouldn’t have to be a risk to do what you love.”

His lips curl up in a smile, and I want to kiss him, because gah, that smile.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says. “I’m starting to think the things most worth having are worth working for.”

And there go more bubbles fizzing in my chest, because he makes it sound like he’s talking about me. “Like being a pediatrician?”

“Ah, the lady’s aiming for the heart.” He clutches his chest in mock injury while he grins at me. “Dangling impossible dreams out there for me to never hit.”

“Would you have? If this wasn’t working, if your fashion empire tanked, would you go back to school?”

“Trying to talk me into staying?”

“Who we could’ve been is always a part of who we are. If I hadn’t been an environmental engineer, I would’ve wanted to be a travel writer.”

His smile’s going affectionate, which is just as dangerous. “I can see it.”

“So? Would you have gone back to school? What else would you do if you weren’t the famous Beck Ryder?”

“Become very, very good at giving double orgasms.”





Twenty-Eight





Beck



We have a back door pass to get us into The Laugh Track, the comedy club downtown, which is just as effective at getting attention as buying a ticket at the front door since the paps were tipped off that we’d be coming, except we don’t have to wade through everyone else buying tickets, which is really just an excuse by my team to save my ego from the people who’ll tell me to suck dick and die.

I agreed to the back door because I didn’t want Sarah hearing any of the bullshit that people are spouting on Twitter about her looks that the occasional dumbass is brave enough to utter in person, and also because Charlie flat-out warned me that she’d quit for real if I punched anyone.

That would be like Ellie refusing to buy me any more Christmas presents for the rest of my life, and Ellie gives the best Christmas presents.

Like the Justin Bieber electric toothbrush she got me two years ago.

Epic. Prank level infinity right there. How’s a guy supposed to live without that in his life?

“Spoiled asshole,” one of the bouncers mutters as we pass through the back door.

“I’m working on it,” Sarah replies cheerfully. “Seriously, I asked my parents to donate my usual birthday Ferrari to a B-lister this year. That’s not being an asshole, is it?”

I suck in a surprised grin and tug her in the door while the bouncers choke on their own spit and my bodyguards shuffle her faster too.

“What?” she mutters. “Like they’ve never stuck their feet in their mouths.”

“That was awesome. Did you practice sassing the paps when you were growing up?”

“No, I always thought of the perfect comeback five minutes too late, and Mom always said it wasn’t worth baiting them anyway.”

“She’s right,” one of the bodyguards grunts.

“I know,” Sarah sighs. “But that felt really fucking fantastic. For like two seconds there, I was the girl with the comeback. It’ll never happen again, and honestly, my heart’s about to pound out of my chest, but it was worth it.”

I am definitely practicing double orgasms with her when this contract is over. Triple. Quadruple. Can a woman go for a quintuple, or would that kill her? Because I’m pretty sure a quintuple would kill me.

I’ll have to ask a doctor.

We’re steered around the back of the stage to a round two-person table off to the left in the open seating area, bodyguards at the table beside us. We’re both angled with a good view of the black curtain blocking the stage, and our server rushes right over, only giving me a small lip curl before turning her attention to Sarah. “Hi, hon. What can I get you? We have a strawberry cosmo that’s delicious. Makes the company more bearable. By the way, I cannot stop watching Persephone. Do you think she’ll have the baby this week?”