With This Heart(54)

His dark hair was disheveled and curling at the ends even more than usual. He’d thrown on a white t-shirt and workout shorts that hugged his solid frame. Once his eyes locked onto me, he dropped his gaze to my jean cut-offs and took his time taking me in. He grinned and his smile momentarily stunned me. There was something about him that seemed different as he stepped closer to me. He was more confident, more in control of his next step. The song kicked up another notch and Beck’s eyes flitted to the speakers resting on my hood. John Denver was in the middle of singing about saying goodbye.

“ Are you about to leave without me?” he asked, turning back to me with a sexy half-smile.

I wouldn’t make it two miles without him in the Camper with me. “No. I just think we started our last road trip off on the wrong foot,” I shrugged, and crossed my arms to wait for his next move.

“ So now you respect the power of John Denver?” he asked, stepping another inch toward me. I caught a whiff of his shampoo. He must have showered right before going to bed. I stared hard at his white t-shirt, willing him to close the remaining gap between us.

“ Maybe I do…”

I caught a glimpse of his smirk before he enveloped me in his arms and picked me up. We were standing in the parking lot of his apartment complex with his hands wrapped tightly around my waist. My hands clasped around his neck and my feet hung a foot above the ground.

“ Hi,” I said, looking into his eyes and trying hard not to smile like a buffoon.

“ When do we leave?” he asked. He was fighting a smile as well and I thought it was so silly that we were attempting to play our attraction off as anything less than clothes-tearing, soul-stealing, gut-wrenching madness.

“ Right now.”

“ Now?” he asked, quirking his eyebrows.

“ Well, after you pack and go pee,” I smirked.

“ Ohh, are you not going to make any stops for me?”

“ Depends on how good you are at begging…” My cheeks flushed after those words slipped out. I was not a flirt, and the fact that my brain seemed to momentarily forget that had my cheeks burning bright red. “Um, you’re still holding me, you know,” I muttered quickly, trying to change the subject.

“ You’re such a romantic, Abby,” Beck began, completely ignoring my embarrassment, or maybe he was trying to rub it in. “You drove to my house and played me a song. That is straight out of an 80’s movie. You love me, don’t you? Oh my god, Abby Mae McAllister, you can hardly keep your hands off me!” He swayed his hips so that my body swung back and forth like a pendulum in his arms.

I squirmed, trying to make him let me go. “Beck! You’re being ridiculous. Don’t read into it! It was more about John Denver than you anyway.” God, my face was about to explode I was blushing so much. I didn’t love him, or maybe I did, but I just couldn’t stand him looking at me like that. His hazel eyes were masked with amusement, but beneath that was a deeply sweet guy staring straight into my soul.

“ Are you going to let me down now?” I asked, finally relenting and going limp in his arms.

He narrowed his eyes on me for a moment and then leaned forward to give me a sweet kiss. It felt funny not having to arch my neck to reach his mouth for once. With him holding me, our heights were perfectly matched. Our lips were aligned and my arms grasped his neck, right under his hair line, pulling his face toward me even more. I think in the beginning that kiss was meant to be sweet and playful, but our mouths had ulterior motives.

Beck pressed my body against his as hard as he could without hurting me. My breasts were pressed against his chest, and before I knew what I was doing, I wrapped my legs around his waist. His hand found the hem of my jean shorts. We were in public, in broad day-light, yet Beck’s fingers still slid past my hem, skating across areas that made me moan into his mouth.

I was lost in the moment, not realizing what a few days apart from him would do to my body. Every part of me craved to be closer to him. Straddling him in the parking lot wasn’t cutting it.

“ Beck,” I mumbled, breaking our kiss.


“ Abby,” he answered with a heavy breath. His athletic shorts were thin and I could feel him against my jean shorts.

“ Let’s go up to your apartment…” I suggested, embracing the moment for what it was. There was no argument from him. In a quick flourish of movement, he set me back onto the ground, took my iPod, and grabbed my hand to tug me upstairs. I ran after him, clicking the button to lock my car at the last moment before we started running up his stairs.

We crashed into his apartment. I tugged everything out of his hands and tossed it onto his couch for safe keeping. He tugged his white t-shirt over his head and then grabbed me with every ounce of conviction in his body.

“ Beck!” I squealed as he gripped my hips and pressed me back against his living-room wall. I guess we weren’t making it to his bedroom this time. I was gripping his hair so hard I expected him to yelp. He unbuttoned my jean shorts and let them slide down my legs toward the ground. I owned a singular pair of sexy underwear and I knew I’d made the right decision putting them on that morning. They were pink and lacy where they hit the top of my thighs.

“ You need to stop me now if you want this another way, Abby. We can go into my bedroom and take it slow. I don’t want you to regret—”