Chapter 8: Mia

"Mia?" His voice sounds deeper, more roughed up than seconds ago. Even though I fight against it, my core clenches in response.

It takes a moment to break free of the trance that has fallen over me. I gulp, wishing there was a way to escape the situation. In two swift steps, Beck is back to invading my space. He towers over me, standing so close that the tips of my breasts brush against his shirtless chest.

"You need to stop staring at me like that," he growls.

"Like what?" I whisper, trying to play dumb.

His face hovers so closely that his warm, minty breath ghosts over my lips. All I want is to close my eyes and lean into him. To take a deep lungful of air and savor it.

How is it possible to want someone and yet hate them at the same time? It doesn't make sense.

"Like you might be interested in hanging up your good girl title."

A wave of arousal crashes over me, making my head swim.

Is that how I'm staring at him?

Like I want him to touch me in ways I've only dreamed about in the privacy of my room?

Guilty.

Here's a little secret I'm loath to admit even to myself-I find Beck ridiculously attractive. For as long as I can remember, his energy and sense of humor have fascinated me. I'm drawn to the way he doesn't give a damn. My fingers itch to tunnel through his dark wavy hair. My lips ache to settle over his. And my body trembles with the need for his large hands to coast over it.

But...

And this is a ginormous but, I would never-under any circumstance-admit that to him.

No matter how tempted I might be.

No matter how much he turns me on.

When Beck is this close, it's almost impossible to remind myself that he doesn't have the attention span to stick with anything other than football for the long haul. He flits from one girl to the next before moving on.

A potent blend of regret and relief rush through me when he steps away and presses something soft into my hands. I tear my gaze from his and stare at the wadded-up shirt.

He jerks his head toward the bathroom attached to his room. "Go change."

"Change?" I repeat. I must be more drunk than I suspected because for some reason, I can't get my brain to function properly.

"Yeah," his voice turns sharp, "but leave on the thong."

My eyes pop wide as his words echo throughout my head.

"As long as there's something covering you," he continues, "it won't be a problem."

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

A fresh burst of panic rolls through me as my gaze darts to the bedroom door. If I run fast, I could probably make it out of here.

It's not like he would physically stop me from leaving...right?

"Don't even think about it, Stanbury. You sleeping here is a done deal."

I huff out a breath, irritated that he can read my mind so easily.

Left without options that don't involve him laying his hands on me, I stalk to the bathroom and slam the door before sliding the lock into place. From the other side of the door, his amused chuckle assaults my ears. With shaking fingers, I turn on the tap until water flows into the sink before collapsing against the marble countertop.

Now that I'm alone, I try to settle everything racing madly around inside me before splashing a handful of cold water on my face. Then I strip off the tank top, skirt, and sandals. With my bra and thong still in place, I meet my reflection in the mirror. If I were smart, I would leave the bra on, but I can't sleep with wire cups. They'll dig into my skin.

Unwilling to overthink the decision, I unhook the back and allow the straps to slide down my arms before dropping the bra to the tile floor. Then I pull Beck's T-shirt over my head. I hate myself for giving in to the urge to bring the cottony fabric to my nose before inhaling a breath. My belly quivers as Beck's masculine scent wraps around me.

When I step into the room, I find Beck stretched out on the king-size bed that dominates the space. Gone are the board shorts. In their place is a pair of form-fitting black boxer-briefs that hug his impressive thighs and...

Yeah.

I quickly avert my eyes.

Sweet baby Jesus.

No high school guy should be this perfectly sculpted.

It's just plain wrong.

Beck's gaze cuts to mine, freezing me on the spot. My breath catches, and my heart stutters under the sharp intensity of his stare. Unsure how to proceed, I hover near the bathroom door. His hands are lazily stacked behind his head as they rest against the pillow. When I don't budge from the threshold, he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed before rising to his feet and stretching out his hand.

"Come here."

Holy shit. Is this really happening?

It feels like a dream. Maybe a nightmare. Or someplace in between.

My mind flips through the past two hours as I try to figure out how I've ended up in Beck's bed for the night. It doesn't make sense.

My motto has always been avoid, avoid, avoid.

This is the complete opposite.

Unconsciously, I close the distance between us. I blink to awareness when Beck's fingers tighten around mine. With a tug, I stumble forward into his embrace.

His other hand wraps around my waist. "You good?"

Even though I jerk my head into a nod, I have no idea if it's the truth. This is unchartered territory. Maybe if he would stop touching me, my mind would clear enough to think rationally. But his grip doesn't loosen. Another unwanted bolt of arousal shoots through me before settling in my lower belly.

When it seems like I'll explode from the thick tension that has gathered between us, his fingers fall away and he turns, yanking back the covers.

I stare, unsure what to do. Am I supposed to slide into his bed as if this is normal?

Just another Saturday night spent with Beck?

When I hesitate, he says, "Nothing will happen that you don't want."

That's exactly what I'm afraid of.

All I can think about are his hands on my body.

Against my better judgment, I climb onto the mattress. It's as soft as a cloud. My movements falter when he groans, his hand sliding over my bare backside. Everything in me tenses as I scamper to the far side of the bed. That little caress leaves my body vibrating.

The mattress dips as Beck settles on top of it and we both stretch out, our heads resting against the thousand-count Egyptian-covered pillows. It takes a bit of adjustment before I'm able to find a comfortable position on my side, turned away from Beck. Even though I try to ignore him, I'm ridiculously aware of his six-foot frame next to me.

A few silent moments tick by as I force myself to relax. One by one, my tense muscles lose their rigidity. I stare at the far wall before trying to close my eyes. Okay. This isn't so bad. Beck will stay on his side, and I'll remain on mine. It's a king-size bed and there's plenty of space for both of us. In fact, there's plenty of room for three or four people. I'm sure Beck has tested that theory out for himself. My guess is that he's no stranger to threesomes.

Why that thought irritates me, I have no idea. But I banish it from my head before I can inspect it too closely.

As soon as the sun peeks over the horizon tomorrow morning, I'm out of here. Or maybe I'll wait for Beck to fall asleep and sneak home. Is he really going to care at that point? It's not like he can hold me hostage in his bedroom indefinitely.

The moment I find a comfy spot and melt into the mattress, Beck wraps an arm around my ribs. I yelp as he drags me toward him until my backside is aligned with his front.

Holy hell.

I stiffen like a board as his arm drapes around my body and holds me so every part of him is pressed intimately against me.

And I do mean every part.

One of his hands slips beneath the hem of my T-shirt and settles against my lower abdomen. My breath becomes clogged in my throat until it feels like I'm going to pass out from lack of oxygen. The warmth of his palm singes the skin beneath it. It's all I can focus on.

"Relax," he rumbles against my ear.

Is he joking?

How am I supposed to do that?

"You know," I say, voice shaking like a leaf, "I'm fine. I could-"

"You're staying here. End of story."

I press my lips together until they feel bloodless. As much as I want to argue, I know it won't do me any good. Beck isn't going to release me until he's damn good and ready. So, I'm stuck. Pressed against him. I blow out a breath and try to do as he instructed.

The noise of the party fades as my eyelids droop. I listen for Beck's steady inhalations as my muscles gradually unlock.

I refuse to stay here.

There's no way I'll fall asleep.

He can't keep me against my will. A little longer and I can slip out of his embrace.

I stay perfectly still, listening as his breathing becomes deep and rhythmic. For some reason, it calms me from the inside out.

All I need to do is wait.

Then I can...

Drift off to sleep, wrapped up in Beck's embrace.