Page 74 of Changing Lanes

Beckett groans and shifts to his side, pulling me closer in the process until we’re spooning. I never thought of myself as a little spoon but it looks like I don’t have a choice tonight. The big guy loves to act like he’s in charge. Mostly in control of his emotions and how they’re perceived. He’s not afraid to throw his weight around to get his way either.

What happens when someone sees past the ruse though?

I peek at his serene face as his eyebrows pinch together in…what? What’s haunting him?

And why is it getting worse?

CHAPTER 18

Beckett

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

There’s a body snuggled against mine and I’m pretty damn sure it belongs to a female. Opening my eyes to see who it is seems almost as unbearable as the fact that I brought someone back to my place at all last night. There’s usually nothing but groupies and girlfriends at the races and neither are my style.

Okay, fine, a groupie here and there is exactly my style. Sue me.

Even though I didn’t drink anything stronger than water last night, my mind still scrambles to identify my guest but the only woman I can think of is Paige. She’s been the only one occupying my head since she moved in and yesterday was no exception. Waking up to find her in my bed wasn’t the kick to my junk I thought it’d be. Not like this.

There was a peace I’ve never known having her by my side the entire day. Even as we worked together, it was like coming home after a long trip abroad. You notice things you took for granted before, things you would’ve never noticed but now have a new respect for. Having Paige around reminds me of the little things, the stuff I’ve been too busy to appreciate—like laughs. Holy shit, her laughs are like magic. I make people laugh daily either for fun or for…other reasons, but getting Paige to laugh is the best head rush there is. I became outright addicted to the sound. Quick. Her throaty laughs are the best because you know damn well she means them. There’s no pretense with her. What you see is what you get and I like what I see. Have since my eyes first collided with hers.

There’s a sadness clinging to her lately though, and it seemed to lose some of its effect the longer she hung around yesterday. It wasn’t gone completely last night at dinner but she was freer, more relaxed. That is until she pushed me away.

Hell, after hearing her invite who-the-fuck-knows over to sleep here, I was more than happy to push back. It’s for the best anyway. As much as I like having her close, I have to rein in my reactions to her. She’s seen enough as it is.

Which is why I can’t believe I brought a chick home last night. Paige might’ve accidentally trampled over my only rule the night before with her drunken missteps but last night was all on me. I know better than to let someone sleep over, even if it probably had more to do with Paige’s fuckbuddy than wanting my own.

I don’t know what’s going on with me but this shit has to stop. I’m not a kid anymore. Nobody should be able to affect me this way.

Even with that in mind, I touch my fingers to my nose to feel for any wetness while keeping my eyes tightly shut.

Dry.

Fuck yes.

Now I just need to get mystery girl out of here before Paige sees. I don’t know why I care about her seeing someone else in my bed but I do. I should already be up to help with her medicine—girl does a shit job applying the stuff—but I need to take care of this, uh, situation first.

I’ve never had to do this in the light of day before but I decide to rip the bandage off as quickly as possible and get the awkwardness over with already.

Except when I open my eyes, I find a mass of burgundy waves fanned out on my pillow. And arm. And chest. And…yep, some of it’s even in my mouth. Damn, Paige has a ton of hair. Good thing she never took me up on my offer to wash it. I’d be in there forever washing this mane.

My dick stirs.

On second thought, a long shower with Paige might not be so bad.

How did she end up in here again? Did she get drunk after we left? It wouldn’t surprise me. Girl is going through enough, not that she’s told me but she doesn’t have to for me to know something’s weighing her down. Sadness bears a heavy load and my back’s been aching for years from the weight of my own.

A small moan passes her lips as she burrows deeper into my shoulder and I don’t think I’ve seen anything sexier. That comfort. The ease of it.

My traitorous arm is slung across her stomach, her exposed stomach, and I consider pulling it away before she can wake to find me all over her, but her soft skin is like leather on a warm day—supple and inviting—and I can’t seem to find the strength.

My fingers graze her spine instead, spreading out along her side. My dick strains against my boxer briefs, wanting to explore, too. I’d love to grip that waist and drag her on top of me, get her so close there’s nowhere else for her to go. I want her all to myself but can’t. I can’t do that. Not to either of us.

Didn’t she just have someone else warming her bed? Where is he?