Corin

“I know you’re awake.”

I buried my face in the pillows, not wanting him to see me grinning like a fool. I could feel Beck’s cool fingers on my naked back, tracing the line of my spine.

His finger was soon replaced with his mouth, the wet tip of his tongue gliding over my skin.

It had been almost three weeks since my breakdown after dinner with his parents.

Three weeks since I had exposed all of the ugly, mortifying parts of me.

He knew my secrets.

And he loved me anyway.

He loved me.

There was nothing wrong with me. Dr. Harrison had said it. Beckett agreed.

I was still struggling to believe it.

Particularly when my head and body tried so hard to tell me differently.

I still had the number for Chris Riley but I hadn’t called. I wasn’t sure if I would. I knew that I probably should. But I hadn’t mustered up the courage yet.

I wasn’t entirely sure I really needed it. I hadn’t been focused on pain in weeks. My mind, my heart, was wrapped up in Beckett Kingsley.

I hadn’t had a panic attack in over three weeks. I wasn’t in pain. I wasn’t anxious.

All because I had found love with an amazing man.

Maybe he was the only therapy I really needed.

“Wakey, wakey,” he hummed in my ear, moving my hair to the side and pulling my earlobe with his teeth.

“I’m sleeping,” I grumbled, making a show of being irritated. But I wasn’t irritated.

Not in the slightest.

He rolled me over and started kissing the hollow of my throat, drifting lower and lower.

I squirmed when he started paying special attention to my overly sensitive breasts, which still sported the stubble burn from his administrations last night.

Beckett was a bit of a boob guy. He was a little obsessed with them.

“Mmm,” he moaned against my fevered skin, and I felt it between my legs.

I stretched my arms above my head, my eyes literally rolling back into my head.

What this man could do with a tongue and a nipple should be studied by every guy on the planet. There would be a lot of very happy women as a result.

His fingers crept south, being all sneaky-like. As if I wouldn’t know where he was headed.

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked lazily, pushing into his hand as he cupped me.

“What’s it feel like?” he murmured, his mouth still full of boob.

“It feels naughty,” I teased and then gasped when he pushed a finger inside me. Jesus Christ Almighty!

He started to work his hand, languidly stroking me, in and out, and I started spewing all sorts of gibberish. I may have started speaking in tongues. One orgasm later and I could barely think straight.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Beck chastised when I closed my eyes.

I popped one eye open. “Well, I certainly hope not,” I remarked primly.

Beckett growled in the back of his throat and kissed me furiously. Within a matter of seconds we were both groaning loudly as he screwed the living daylights out of me.

And just as we were both about to have the orgasm to end all orgasms, a ball of fluff jumped up on the pillow and lay down.

“What the—” Beckett looked over at my cat, Mr. Bingley, not breaking his stride.

“Ignore him,” I moaned, arching my back.

Mr. Bingley lifted his leg and started grooming himself. Two feet from our heads. And when he was finished, he stared at us, unblinking.

“Your cat’s a total voyeur, Corin. It’s disturbing,” he panted. Beckett wrapped my legs around his waist, lifting me up and repositioning me on the other side of the bed.

“I feel him watching us,” Beckett whispered, as if Mr. Bingley could hear him.

And sure enough, Mr. Bingley was still there. Watching.

“We have to take this somewhere else, Cor. I can’t fuck you the way I want to knowing he’s sitting there, silently judging,” Beckett bemoaned.

I chuckled. “He’s a cat, Beck. His thoughts consist of mice and food. I don’t think he’s critiquing your thrusting technique.”

Beckett pushed deep and I let out a breathy sigh. “Hang on,” he commanded.

“Should you be doing this? Take it easy,” I gasped, worried about him exerting himself.

“Don’t you dare tell me to take it easy,” he warned. “Now hold on.”

I tightened my legs and curled my arms around his neck as Beckett hoisted me up, still buried inside me.

I felt like a monkey hanging off a tree. “Where the hell are you going?” I asked, giggling.

Beckett kicked my bedroom door closed and carefully lowered me to the floor in the middle of the hallway.

“Here? Are you serious?” I laughed.

“I. Can’t. Wait. I. Need. You. Now.”

I wasn’t laughing a whole lot after that.

—

A little while later we were back in my bed, having kicked Mr. Bingley out into the living room. Something my furry companion hadn’t been too pleased about. I was pretty sure he was out there plotting his feline revenge.

I was resting my head on Beckett’s chest, listening to the steady thump. He had seemed unnaturally tired after our morning shenanigans on the hallway floor, and I worried that carrying me like that had done something.

When I asked him how he felt, he slapped my ass and told me he was ready for round two.

I insisted on resting instead.

Even though we were happy, happier than I thought I was capable of being, I still fretted.

I was paranoid.

I worried about his heart even though I tried not to. Because I was attempting to put my hang-ups aside.

As hard as that was.

“When’s your next doctor’s appointment?” I asked him, pressing my palm flat over his heart.

Beckett grabbed my hand and kissed the palm. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I want to know,” I explained.

“Next week. I’m going to have the ICD checked and will have some X-rays as well. I’ll also have my medication evaluated. It’s all pretty routine.”

I bit down on my lip and tried to smile. I didn’t fool Beckett in the slightest.

“You don’t need to worry so much about me, Corin. Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s not going to. You have to trust me. Trust in this.”

I wanted to. I was trying. But I had been conditioned to always look for the worst.

My phone dinged from the nightstand.

I frowned. It was my Saturday off. Adam was at the studio with no parties booked. I couldn’t imagine why he would be calling.

I leaned over Beckett and grabbed my phone. He took the opportunity to latch onto my boob again. He really was insatiable.

I read the text message on the screen and let out a frustrated yell.

Beckett let go of my breast and sat up. “What is it?”

“My sister. She’s in town. I totally forgot she was supposed to be coming here.”

Well, that just killed my Saturday.

“Your sister? The bitch?” Beckett clarified.

“The one and only,” I confirmed.

“What’s she doing here? Doesn’t she live up toward D.C.?”

“Yeah, she does, but she warned me that she was going to be in Richmond for a conference with her husband and they’d be driving out here. They want to sell Mom and Dad’s house. She’s seeing a real estate agent.”

“And you don’t want to sell it,” Beckett surmised.

“I’ve been fighting with her about this for a while.” I suddenly felt very tired.

I pulled away from Beckett, leaning over the side of the bed and picking up my underwear that he had removed from my body the night before.

“I guess I should get in the shower. She wants to meet out at the house in an hour.”

My heart seized. She wanted me to meet her at the house.

I felt the first tendrils of panic unfurl in my belly.

“You just went white as a sheet, baby. What’s wrong?” Beckett rubbed my back.

“It’s nothing. I’m being silly,” I said, dismissing it.