Page 32 of Beckett's Fate
Irene opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, her fingers tightening around her glass. Her gaze flicked to the table, then back to him, and for a moment, Beck thought she might bolt.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she leaned back slightly, her eyes searching his face as if trying to find the words. “I... I don’t know what to say,” she admitted finally.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Beck said gently. “I’m not asking for answers or promises. But I need you to understand that—to know you can trust me to protect you and your damn secrets, and to know I won’t back off. Earlier you called me relentless. There are folks in town who will tell you that when you look up that word in the dictionary, you’ll find my picture.”
Irene looked stunned for a moment and then laughed, the merriment glistening in her eyes. “You know, I think I believe that.”
“Good. I didn’t want it to surprise you,” Beck said. “This connection between us—it’s real. And it’s not something I’m willing to ignore.”
Neither of them said anything, but his confession settled over both of them like a tangible force. Irene looked away briefly, her lips pressing into a thin line, but she didn’t look repulsed. If anything, she looked... tempted.
Beck rose from the booth, holding out a hand. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the B&B,” he said softly.
“Would it do me any good to decline?”
“None whatsoever.”
Irene hesitated, then placed her hand in his, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him.
The walk back to the Bristlecone Bed & Breakfast was quiet, the night air cool and crisp around them. Beck stayed close, scanning the shadows for any signs of danger, his protective instincts on high alert.
When they reached the porch, Irene paused, turning to face him. The soft glow of the porch light cast a warm hue over her features, highlighting the hint of uncertainty in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice carrying more weight than the simple words implied.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Beck replied, his voice equally soft. “It’s my job to keep you safe.”
“And you’re not just talking about being sheriff, are you?” she asked, her gaze steady now.
“I like that you’re smart,” he said as he stepped closer, his towering frame blocking out the rest of the world as he looked down at her. “It’s so much more than that.”
Before she could respond, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. For a moment, Irene froze, her breath hitching, but then she melted against him, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders.
The kiss deepened quickly, the simmering attraction between them igniting into a blazing fire. Beck’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him as his lips moved over hers with a hunger he couldn’t contain.
Irene’s fingers tangled in his hair, her body arching into him as a soft moan escaped her lips. The sound sent a bolt of desire through Beck, his wolf growling in approval as he backed her against the porch railing.
The world around them faded, leaving only the heat between them, the intoxicating pull that bound them together. Beck’shands slid down her back, his touch firm and deliberate as he explored the curve of her waist, the softness of her skin.
“Beck,” Irene murmured against his lips, her voice breathless and filled with a mix of desire and hesitation.
“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.
The intensity of the moment threatened to consume them, their connection deeper and more electrifying than either of them had anticipated. But just as Beck’s hand slid to the small of her back, the faint sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears, snapping him back to reality.
Beck pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged as he scanned the darkness. Irene’s eyes widened, her own breath coming in shallow pants as she followed his gaze.
“We’re not alone,” Beck muttered, his sharp gaze cutting through the shadows.
Irene stiffened, her hands gripping his arms. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know,” Beck said, his voice low and dangerous.
The sound grew closer, and Beck’s wolf bristled, every instinct screaming to protect her. He stepped in front of Irene, his body a shield as he prepared for whatever—or whoever—was coming.
The night seemed to hold its breath, the tension thick and suffocating, but the sound evaporated as if it had never been there.