Hard Beat

“Knee-deep in chaos!” Pauly says, his enthusiastic voice booming through the room so that all of the other journalists take notice of Beaux standing there looking exhilarated and beguiling all at once. “Are you hooked now, BJ?” he asks as he approaches her and pats her on the back in welcome. “A goddamn rush, isn’t it?”

Beaux smiles warmly, but all the while her eyes keep flickering to mine, and yet all I can see is Pauly touching her when I want it to be me. I let her have her few moments of rookie glory: being in the thick of an engagement, learning firsthand the rush that some of these journalists can only dream of experiencing. And I’m happy for her, but I experience the next moments as if I were an alcoholic in a liquor store; the craving to take what I can’t have so bad it rules your every thought, your every breath, your everything.

I want to be the good guy, to let her taste the glory of being admired, but at some point soon, I want to be the one who has her attention. And enough’s enough. I close the distance between us, working my way through the crowd.

“C’mon, guys, she needs to get upstairs and file her pictures along with my report ASAP. Worldwide is asking and wants it while the story’s hot.”

The group groans but backs off because they know I’m right. Within seconds, Beaux is following me across the lobby without a single word exchanged between us besides my name. The elevator opens as we near it, and although I usually prefer the stairs, I walk into the empty car, knowing that my body is so pent-up with need right now that I won’t be able to make it more than a few flights up without giving in to the pull of desire on me.

“Whose room?” It’s the only thing I say, my voice strained, my body vibrating from her proximity.

“Mine,” she says cautiously. “All of my equipment is there so I can upload and —”

“Fine.” I push the button just as the doors to the car shut, and I brace my hands on the wall in front of me, eyes closed as I concentrate on controlling everything that I can because I know the minute I have her alone, that restraint will snap.

The tension in the car between us thickens. The current of desire is so palpable, I feel like it kick-starts my heart every other beat. I blow out a breath as the elevator ascends, Beaux shifting her feet beside me.

“Did I do something wrong?”

I snort. Fuck yes. But where do I even begin to explain? You made me want you? You made me worry when I told myself I wasn’t going to put myself in that situation ever again? You fucking don’t ever listen about not going off on your own? I want you so goddamn bad right now that the desire is so sharp, it’s painful.

The elevator dings, and I stride off the car to her door without looking back to see if she’s following. My body just knows she is.

It takes her a moment to fumble with her bag, get her room key out, and open her door, all the while casting curious glances my way.

“Put the camera down,” I order the minute we’re inside the door and it’s shut.

“What is your problem —?” she asks, but the question is cut off the second the camera strap leaves her hand, my body crashing into hers and pushing her up against the wall behind her. My lips find hers instantly.

It takes her a millisecond for the shock to fade and for her to respond, but once she does, we meet in a savage union of frenzied hands gripping, mouths taking, bodies begging to join in every way possible.

Beaux weaves her fingers in my hair and holds tight as she tears her mouth momentarily from mine. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

I kiss her fiercely, all tongue and teeth and possession, before I respond. “I’m furious. But I want you more.” It’s as true a statement as I’ve ever given, the moment stripping away any superfluous words. “You came back to me.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” she says, her voice breathless but resolute. And a part of me feels a tiny iota of relief from her words before my senses are shaken and upended when a moan falls from her mouth as my hand finds its way down her pants and I use my one foot to knock her legs wider so that I can have better access. I may be completely consumed with her kiss and taken with the possession of her touch, but there is no mistaking her desire as my fingers run over the tight strip of curls. Her gasp fills the space between us as I part her cleft to find her heated and wet for me.

Jesus Christ. If I didn’t want her enough already, feeling her push her hips into my hands makes that want turn into a need that somehow I feared wouldn’t be satisfied anytime soon. We’ve built up to this moment for so long that I know as hard as I try to hold on to control, as much as I try to slow down, every nerve in my body is at such a riotous fever pitch that it’s going to be impossible not to succumb to the urgency.

Then Beaux shocks me back to reality by saying, “I need you in me right now.”

And that’s what I want more than anything, to be buried in her. Yes, my hand is already between the lips of her pussy, but I need more of her, want all of her, naked and accessible.

“Tanner.” My name leaves her lips as a plea, a moan, and everything in between when she releases her hold on me and moves to help tug her shorts down. But just her shorts aren’t enough. I want all of her clothes off. She must feel the same way because, without a word, we begin an awkward dance toward the bed, an unspoken race to see which of us can get undressed quicker as we cover the few feet of distance. And just as she has her bra off so that we are both completely naked, I grab her from behind and pull her back against my chest.