Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97724 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Worked out well for this Irish girl.”
He laughs against my lips. “I’d say it worked out fucking fantastic. How about you? Any live-ins?”
“No. Do you have any children I should know about?”
Beckett’s eyebrows climb in surprise. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Hey, you never know. A girl has to ask.”
“Any kids for you?”
I laugh at that and shake my head. “No. I went years without having a period at all. Sorry, that might be TMI.”
“No, it’s not. Why?”
“Because when a woman’s underweight and under immense stress, her body is in survival mode, and periods become irregular or go away altogether. It’s common in athletes, dancers in particular. Gymnasts, too. I had intense diet restrictions, Beckett. I don’t think I can adequately explain how strict my diet was, and I put my body through a lot. So it wouldn’t have been possible for me to get pregnant for a long time. But I was so busy with dance that sex wasn’t really something I worried about.”
“Let’s take this chat into the living room, and we can get Riley,” he suggests, and I nod and hop off the vanity, feeling so much better.
“Do you want to change? Your family is going to end up in here soon.”
“Yes, that would be better.”
He nods and finds me some leggings and one of his shirts.
“Can I have the shirt you wore on the plane earlier?” I ask. He looks surprised, so I bite my lower lip. “It’ll smell more like you.”
His eyes soften as he reaches up to brush his thumb over the apple of my cheek before he goes back into the closet and returns with the blue button-up from the plane. I button it up, then slip on my leggings and follow Beck into the living area of the suite just as there’s a knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Beckett asks.
“Sanders, Ms. Gallagher’s security. I have Riley.”
“Well, that was good timing,” Beck says as he opens the door. Riley comes bounding in, his tongue hanging out of his mouth happily, and when he sees me, he races to me.
“Hey, beautiful boy.” I kiss his head and feel so much relief having him by my side. “Were you good for Sally? I missed you.”
As if he can sense that I’m not okay, he pushes his head into my stomach, trying to soothe me.
“It’s okay. We’re okay.”
I sit on the sofa, listening to Beckett’s voice. The front door closes, and then he’s talking to someone else. Probably room service.
Even though I’m still in shock that The Arsehole found me—how did he know that I’d be at the fundraiser?—having Beckett here, determined to soothe and care for me, has made it all more surreal than terrifying. I have no doubt that Miller will figure this out, and Connor won’t rest until all the details are gathered. And knowing Beckett loves me? Nothing has ever felt so wonderful. So despite the growing anger from seeing him, and especially now that I have Riley with me, I know I’ll be okay.
I hated that meltdown, but I’m not alone.
Not this time.
When Beck walks into the room to join me, he picks me up, sits in the corner of the couch, and settles me in his lap, and I curl up around him, looping my arms around his neck and pressing myself to him. I sense Riley lie down in his bed next to the couch, and I sigh, truly feeling completely content since the moment The Arsehole put his hand on me.
“So,” Beck says, his fingertips under my shirt, ghosting over my skin deliciously, making me want to purr. “Sex is a higher priority now.”
I smirk against his neck, nuzzling him, breathing him in. “Absolutely, as long as it’s with you.”
“If it’s with someone else, we’re going to have a problem, Irish.” He chuckles and nips at my ear.
“I love you.”
“Say it again,” he whispers, tightening his arms around me.
“I love you, Beckett Blackwell.”
He pulls back and brushes my hair back behind my ear. “I love you too, Irish.”
With a grin, I press my lips to his so gently that it’s barely there until he moves in and deepens the kiss, nudging my mouth open with his tongue.
He’s claiming me with this kiss, the way he’s done before, but there’s no mistaking this feeling of belonging.
Of ownership.
From both of us.
The doorbell rings, and Riley barks, but Beck doesn’t immediately pull away. He rubs his nose over mine and sighs before he sets me on the cushion next to him, then pads over to open the door. Room service rolls in a table topped with a silver tea set. They raise the edges of the table, making it round, and pull hot plates out from under it.
“Would you like me to pour the tea, sir?”
“No, thanks,” Beck says with the shake of his head. “We can handle it.”