The taste of forbidden

20. Need and loss. [Part 3]

"Look at me," he pleads, his forehead pressed to mine, his hands fierce on my cheeks. "Look at me and listen to me, Lia Callahan."

I grab both his wrists with my hands, leaning closer to him, my eyes locked on his when he repeats, "It wasn’t your fault."

I furrow my brows, reading his lips as he says again, "It wasn’t your fault."

And again, his voice sweet, soft, loving, "It wasn’t your fault."

I exhale, a quiet whimper escapes me when he leans in and presses his lips to my right eyelid, making me close it as he says, "It wasn’t your fault."

He does the same to my other eyelid. My fingers cling tighter to his wrists, his palms steady on my cheeks as he tilts my face slightly back.

"It wasn’t your fault."

We breathe the same air, warm and shaky between us.

A brush on the tip of my nose, his lips soft and wet.

"It wasn’t your fault."

And then, just an inch from my mouth, both our hands trembling on the other, he whispers, "It wasn’t your fault."

I squeeze my eyes shut, a small sob escaping when, finally, in an action that changes everything, his mouth presses into mine in a short kiss.

It’s a simple, nearly imperceptible touch—but it steals all my willpower and leaves me weak beneath him.

"It wasn’t your fault, babe," he repeats, barely audible.

I nod, the motion brushing our lips together, and he…

Another soft pressure, this time to my bottom lip.

A shiver runs through my body.

My fingertips grip his wrists even tighter, his hands tilting my face more toward him.

And…

This time, when he presses his lips to my top lip, I lift my bottom one and return the kiss.

Becket pulls back a tiny inch, both of us trembling, breathing the same shallow, heated air.

I sigh, my eyes opening slowly to meet the dark blue I dream about every night.

Becket’s gaze moves slowly over mine, searching, searching…

And I don’t know what he finds. I don’t know who moves first. But the next touch… isn’t a touch.

His mouth opens over mine, his tongue gently testing the seam of my lips, and I tilt my head, wanting more.

With my body begging for his, I let go of his wrists and sink my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. At the same time, his hand grabs the flesh of my thigh and pulls me into his lap. I settle my knees on either side of him, looking down, focused only on him as my hands hold his head.

I look into his eyes, breathing only him.

Becket trails his hand up my neck, tangling his fingers in my hair, tilting my head slightly back, and devours my mouth in a kiss too needy to be our first.

I gasp, kissing him back with just as much hunger as our mouths open against each other. His hands explore my arched back with need, his tongue dipping for the first time into my mouth, pulling a moan from me that makes him growl.

When he leans in for another, even hungrier kiss, our teeth clash from the urgency. His hands slide down to my hips, rocking me slightly against him. My neck falls back from the sensation, my face turned to the sky as his wet mouth moves down my throat.

"f**k," he growls, filling his hands with my ass to grind my hips over his.

My mouth opens, gasping for air as the friction between our thighs builds.

It feels so good.

So good.

Then his face drops to my chest, breathing heavily while our hips stay joined, not hiding anything about what we’re doing to each other.

I blink, still looking at the sky, panting for air… searching for clarity but not really wanting to find it.

What if…?

Becket nuzzles his face against my chest, trailing his hands from my hips to my sides, until his thumbs are brushing the sensitive skin at the sides of my breasts. I feel my n*****s harden—and he notices. A tortured groan escapes him and, as if trying but failing to resist, he grazes one tightened tip with his nose.

I tense against him, my fingers digging into his hair, needing more friction…

"We can’t," he whispers, voice hoarse, bringing his face up to speak against my ear.

I swallow, nodding, but we both turn to face each other again—another kiss, too long to be called restraint.

I clutch his face in my hands, staring into his eyes for several long seconds, those eyes that are becoming everything…

Then I lower my head and kiss him harder.

Becket’s hands dig into my hair, clenching into fists with frustration, maybe even anger, but he kisses me back just as fiercely. We kiss hard, our lips nearly bruising from the pressure. I feel his scruff scratch my skin, but I don’t care—I want more.

His kiss is as powerful as he is, lighting a relentless fire inside me.

And it’s not just desire—this goes so, so far beyond that.

Desire isn’t like this. This is… need.

When we’re out of breath, when I feel like I’ll die if he keeps kissing me, Becket pulls back, his face dropping to my neck while we both gasp for air.

And he says again, "We can’t."

We can’t.

"I know," I whisper, grabbing his back with my hands, digging my fingers into his skin to keep him close.

His lips brush my skin as he breathes. And his breath is shaky. Just like me, he’s still trembling. Not from cold, not from shock, but from the overwhelming desire we’re now both fighting not to give in to… not to change everything.

I close my eyes.

My fingertips curl tighter around the firm muscles of his back, terrified to let go.

"Go back to the truck while I calm down, okay?"

I shake my head, scared that this has changed everything.

I don’t want to lose him.

"Babe, please…"

I shake my head again, holding him tighter in my arms.

"Lia, please, I’m begging you…" His voice sounds tortured. "I’m one second away from—"

I squeeze my eyes shut, understanding.

"Promise me," I whisper against his neck. "Promise me this won’t make me lose you."

"Lia…" his voice is a plea.

"Becket, please," I sob, letting new tears fall onto his skin.

I wait in silence, but all I get is a rough, "Get inside."

I shudder at the command in his voice and, not knowing what else to do, I move away from him and climb back into the truck, closing the door softly, afraid a loud sound might make all of this worse.

I reach for the music console, turn it off, and, still with tears running down my face, I watch him. He’s sitting just where I left him, tense, like a thousand regrets are eating him alive.

I swallow a sob, slowly beginning to understand what we just did.

Oh God.

Oh God.

Oh my God.

What did we do?

I start hyperventilating, panicked over the line we just crossed.

Am I going to lose him because of this?

Because above all the chaos, all the betrayal, all the guilt I feel, the thing that scares me most is that—losing him.

I reach for the hat he left behind before getting out, grab it, and hug it to my chest, waiting what feels like an eternity for him to come back to me.

But once Becket gets in the truck, it’s worse—because he doesn’t speak to me, doesn’t even look at me… it’s like he can’t stand to be near me.

I swallow a sob, hug his hat tighter to my chest, and turn my face away from him, staring out the window.

Am I losing him?

The pain in my chest is suffocating, but too scared of what he might say, I close my eyes and pretend I’m asleep when we reach the ranch. Becket doesn’t try to wake me. He just lifts me out of the truck and carries me in his arms with steady steps to my cabin.

The walk feels slow. I don’t want him to let go of me, but once he lays me on the bed, the coldness of no longer being in his arms seeps into my bones.

And I wait.

I wait.

My heart breaks a little more with every second he doesn’t lie down next to me. Because that’s the only thing that would reassure me we’re okay, that I haven’t lost him. But even though it’s late, and at this time we’re always in bed—together…

Tonight, we’re not.

Tonight, Becket doesn’t lie beside me.

Tonight, he doesn’t wrap me in his arms.

Tonight, I go to sleep without him.

When the soft click of the door sounds, announcing his departure, I curl into a ball in the bed. His hat still in my hand, I hug it to my chest and cry for the second man I’ve loved in my life… and the second man who has also left me.

[3/3]