America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(92)

I look like Sunny Darling and Judson Clarke’s daughter.

And Beck’s in it too, and oh, the picture of Beck.

He’s watching me as he climbs the stairs, and that look on his face—my breath catches.

The man thinks I hung the moon.

I glance up at him.

He’s scowling.

Beck Ryder.

The man who didn’t even scowl when I tasered him, or when my father threatened to do unmentionable things to his manhood, or when his own mother chastised him in public last night, is scowling.

“You…don’t like the nickname?”

“I don’t like that as soon as you put on a dress and makeup and some fucking Hollywood-approved hairdo, suddenly you’re socially acceptable. This?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ears, then brushes his thumb over my cheek. “This is you being gorgeous. That’s you putting on a show. And I hate the assholes who think the show is all that matters. Because this is what matters most.”

His hand comes to rest on my heart, and if there was any doubt left how I feel about him, it evaporates like the morning dew. “I love you,” I whisper.

And then I clamp a hand over my mouth, because I’ve never said it before, and if he doesn’t— He pulls my hand away and crushes my mouth with his, holding me tight against him until I crawl into his lap and straddle him. His hard cock presses against my clit, and I moan into his mouth and pump my hips to rub my aching nub against him.

“Sarah,” he gasps.

“I love you.” I can’t stop. I want to shout it to the world. And I’m on a rooftop. I could. I could shout it from this rooftop right here, and all of downtown Copper Valley will hear me, and they’ll know that I have fallen head over heels in love with Beck Ryder and I’m not taking it back, because he’s the kindest, biggest-hearted, funniest, sexiest, strongest man I know, and I don’t know how we’ll work out his travel schedule with my day job needing me here, but we will, because— “I love you.”

I fumble with his pants, freeing his cock again.

“Sarah, I don’t—”

I ignore him and slide down his body, taking his erection into my mouth, and when his breath hitches and his hands tighten in my hair, I suck his hard length harder, rubbing the flat of my tongue along him, taking him deep and then pulling almost off him, then taking him in deep again, curling my tongue around him, over and over until he tries to pull back.

“Sarah, I’m gonna—”

I ignore him again and take him as deep as I can until he comes down my throat, his cock pulsing against my tongue while I swallow him down.

When he’s spent, I release him, press a kiss to his tip, and tuck him back into his sweatpants, and then climb back up to snuggle him. Just as I get up to his shoulder-level, he explodes in a huge sneeze.

My eyes flare wide. “You okay?”

He winces. “Hypno—therapist—shit.”

I burst out laughing, even though I shouldn’t, because I’ve heard of this. “You sneeze when you orgasm?” I whisper.

“Cured—mostly,” he pants. He pulls me into his arms. “If I—say—you know—it’s not—because—of that.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“You—so—fucking—amazing.”

I’m in a bear robe with crazy hair and no panties, and he’s clinging to me like I’m his lifeline.

Me.

The crazy geek with famous parents who’s never quite fit in anywhere and is obsessed with endangered animals and who tasered him for trying to apologize.

But he makes me feel like I fit here.

“I love you,” I tell him again.

“I’m quitting,” he announces. “Selling it all. Moving home. I want you. And family. All the time. Forever. Except we have to see the world. Together. You and me. We’ll start in Morocco, and we’ll spend a month there, and then I’ll take you to France, because cheese and bread, and have you ever been to Iceland? We have to go to Iceland. Summer and winter. It’s two different countries.”

I’m smiling so big my cheeks hurt. “Your enthusiasm is very contagious, but I know you’re not just quitting. It’s okay.”

“You can still work if you want to, but you’ll have to work for my parents, because I know normal people won’t let you take off six months out of the year to travel with me.”

And now I’m laughing. I know he’s not being serious—not entirely, because of course he’s not giving up his fashion empire—but I can imagine jetting off to Paris or Morocco or India with him, just to see more of the world. “I can still work under your terms, can I?”

“Or I’ll bring the world to you.” He grins. “YouTube is almost the same as seeing Machu Picchu in person.”

“Oh, that’s low.”

He pulls my fingers to his lips and kisses my knuckles. My nail polish from yesterday is already chipping, which will probably make my mom sigh, but she’ll also help me get it all off, because that’s what she does.

“Come to Shipwreck with me this week,” he says. “Just…get away from all of this until we announce the foundation. I mean, if you can take vacation. I know your job’s important to you.”

“You know I have a trust fund, don’t you?”