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“Technically, I did that.” I lean forward and kiss him again quickly, then again, but he pushes me back.
“I have to look your father in the eyes tomorrow, Brontë.”
“Yeah, but isn’t that part of the fun?” I say, attempting to keep the moment going.
A V settles between his brows. “Is that what this is about?”
I shrug, not wanting to remove myself from him.
“It’s a dangerous game.”
“Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing.” His eyes finally come up to meet mine before he reaches out, brushing my hair away from my face.
“I’m not your happily ever after, Brontë.”
“I’m not asking you to be.”
I stay in his lap till the car slows in front of my building.
“What are you asking me to be?”
I don’t answer because I’m not sure of the answer. Do I want just a one-night stand? Would that ever be enough with a man like Beckham Archer or would it just be setting myself up for heartbreak?
“I can tell you that right now, I’m not going to get out of this car because if I do, I won’t be a gentleman. If I walk you to that door,” he says, pointing out the window, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow, and then I’ll go home. I won’t cuddle you or hold you or kiss you good night. All I can offer you is a fantasy, Brontë.”
I look into his eyes, searching for any hint that what he’s saying is what he thinks I need to hear. That he’s just trying to scare me away, but I don’t think he is. I think he’s telling the truth.
He grabs the tip of my chin. “I’m not what you want, sweetheart. Go inside and put yourself to bed and dream about finding a nice young man who will give you the white picket fence, the two kids, and the happily ever after.”
I don’t make him tell me twice. I climb out of the car and head inside without looking back. I have no illusions about the kind of man Beckham Archer is, but he clearly is confused on what he thinks I want from him.
Chapter 6
Beckham
Walking out of the bar that night without Brontë was one of the hardest decisions I’ve made but the moment I realized who she was, I told myself there wasn’t a chance in hell I could give in to that fantasy.
But tonight, feeling her warmth against me, feeling the curve of her hips beneath my hands as my tongue danced with hers, made me second-guess everything. How can something that feels so right, so fucking delicious, be so wrong?
I guess that saying about forbidden fruit tasting sweeter really is true because telling her no just now was a true test of my willpower.
I wasn’t lying to her when I said I can only offer a fantasy. I’ve never wanted marriage and kids. After my father walked out on my mom and she was left to raise me alone, I saw a side of life I knew I never wanted to replicate, and not having a father has made me feel like I would be inadequate if I ever was one myself. Hell, even Jonas couldn’t keep his first family together.
After hearing just a little about Brontë’s past and finding out that she’s just now working on mending her relationship with her dad, I won’t be another man to let her down or break her heart.
I close my eyes and lean back further in my seat as Carson navigates through traffic. I try to focus on what happened at the meeting tonight, about the next steps and what I’ll divulge to Jonas tomorrow, but all I can focus on is that now I know how soft Brontë’s lips are and my mind spins out on how the rest of her would taste.
I imagine what would have happened had I not stopped us. Would I have had my way with her right here in the back seat? Would I have attempted to be a gentleman and waited till we were inside her apartment?
Suddenly I feel like I’m suffocating. I reach up and loosen my tie but it does little to help. Instead, I roll down the window and let the warm night air breeze across my face.
“Carson, drive around the city a little before heading back to my place, would ya?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
* * *
“Well, how’d the meeting with Pierce go?” Jonas asks as he plants his feet and takes a few practice swings before teeing off.
