“You go for a run?” He arched a brow, no concern in his eyes. It wasn’t like they were being hunted. No danger for them. For now.
If she agreed to Mya’s crazy singing idea, she’d be placing herself quite literally in the limelight for Jorge Rojas.
“I did,” she managed.
“Did it help?” he asked, his voice a bit hoarse as his attention skated to her sports bra. She’d tossed her tee back in the room when they’d returned since it’d been soaked in sweat. And now, her cleavage was on full display for this man to see.
He’d caressed her breasts. Sucked her nipples. Taken his time to kiss every inch of her skin in that bungalow. He knew her body, but he was looking at her now as if seeing her again for the first time on the beach. Maybe he was practicing restraint, and that was why his jaw was locked tight.
She could relate. Her body responded to seeing this strong, tough man with only a towel barely clinging to his hips. She was desperate to reach out and trail her finger along his abs, follow the lines that dipped beneath the towel. She wanted to wrap her hand around his cock and stroke him. Help ease his tension the way she’d hoped running would do for her.
Clearly, it hadn’t helped. And standing before Beckett now, she knew it’d take a lot more than running to unwind the sexual tension between them.
“What’d you say?” He’d asked her something, right?
She’d allowed her attention to remain on the towel a bit too long, and slowly worked her eyes back up to his face. The knowing smile he gave her said he knew exactly what was on her mind.
“I’m thinking you’re still about as tense as me,” he said instead of re-asking his question.
“Did you, um, at least get any sleep?” His eyes were bloodshot and exhausted, so she figured if he slept, it wasn’t well.
He shook his head. “The only decent sleep I’ve had in weeks was . . .” He paused as if checking to ensure they were still alone. “With you at the bungalow.”
She needed him.
Wanted him deep inside her.
Not the time. Not the place. And I need to sing in public for the first time in fifteen years.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to pull you back into this bathroom with me,” he said, the warning clear in his tone. “Please,” he added, a plea in his voice this time.
For the life of her, she had no clue why she whispered, “What would you do if you pulled me in there?”
Beckett angled his head, meeting her eyes. He leaned in so close she could smell his minty fresh breath. “Sweetheart, I’m two seconds away from showing you,” he growled out in a low, raspy voice that went straight to her core.
“I, um.” She wet her lips, trying to remember why she was there in the first place. “I should shower,” she forced out. “Alone,” she added around a swallow, remembering Gray was somewhere in the house. And also, we’re working. Focus.
Beckett pushed away from the doorframe, taking a cue from her words to behave. But the desire didn’t disappear from his heated gaze.
She lowered her shower kit from where she had it clutched to her abdomen and swapped places with him.
Once he was in the hallway, his gaze landed on her leggings. “The idea of other men seeing you in those . . .” His jaw strained beneath his facial hair, and his broad chest rose from a deep inhalation.
She wasn’t sure if he’d meant to say that out loud, but she found herself drawn to his alpha-possessive need to keep other men from seeing her body. Would it stop her from wearing the fitted leggings? Probably not. But she wouldn’t mind having him ravage her in the bedroom and—
“Touch yourself while you’re in there. You need to,” he commanded, completely derailing her thoughts. “You’re going to be strung too tight to operate if you don’t.”
“And did you do the same?” She lifted a brow, imagining his strong hand around his hard length, getting himself off.
“What do you think?” His deep voice sent a ripple of heat cascading over her exposed skin.
She nodded her answer, and a small smile ghosted his lips.
“Now, be a good girl and do the same,” he murmured darkly before walking away, leaving her breathless and horny.
All thoughts of responsibilities and singing were gone the second she was beneath the steamy water.
She replayed her time with Beckett from the other night in her head while sliding her fingers along the seam of her sex before thrusting two inside her pussy.
And then she couldn’t help but create a new scene, writing it in her head as if she were the author of one of those books, while she pressed upon her swollen clit, which was almost too sensitive to touch.
Beckett takes me over his knee and swats my ass three times while whispering, “Bad girl.” Then he sets me face down on the bed.
My ass is still in the air, and he caresses and kisses my flesh before reaching between my legs to cup my swollen, aching sex.
“Spank me there too,” I beg.
He flips me around and runs his finger over my seam before sucking it, eyes holding mine.
He does as I ask, and my back arches off the bed at his touch, desperate for him to take me. To give me what I need.
“You want me to fill that tight cunt of yours, don’t you?” he rasps before thrusting inside me and . . .
Her explosive orgasm shocked her back to reality, and she came harder than she ever had on her own.
Sydney set a hand to the tiled wall, trying to find her breath.
“Where did that come from?” she whispered to herself while reaching for her soap a few seconds later, still trying to steady her racing heart.
But she knew the answer. It was all Beckett. Her desire to unleash and be sexually free around this man was like nothing she’d ever experienced.
Free and yet she wanted to surrender in the bedroom. Give herself completely to him in that way.
He was right. She had needed that. She’d never have made it through another conversation with the team otherwise.
And after the shower, she’d be able to focus.
To face the music.
The actual music.
Do I still remember how to sing?
“I’m sorry, what?” Gray was the first to object to Mya’s idea about seducing Jorge Rojas on Wednesday.
But it was Beckett that Sydney couldn’t rip her focus away from, and the straining of his jaw as he stared at her as if piercing her invisible armor with his dark gaze. He didn’t have to verbally object, she felt his over-my-dead-body in the way he looked at her.
“We’re not considering this,” Gray went on when no one else had spoken. He strode to Carter, holding his leg a bit as if in pain. “Not happening. She is not seducing that fucking psychopath.”
Well then. “You realize that will make her want to do this all that much more, right?” Jack jested, tossing a thumb toward Sydney and smiling.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Was Gray talking to Beckett about this now?
Beckett had his back to the wall, and he remained silently staring at Sydney instead of answering Gray.
“Am I missing something?” Camila asked, drawing Sydney’s attention. “Ohhh,” she tagged on to her question within seconds, her eyes thinning. “You love her?”