Chapter 9

Playing possum proves difficult as the touch of a six-foot, muscular man's fingers sweep sensually over my arms and back. I've been feigning sleep for over an hour, knowing if I open my eyes, he'll stop. As long as he thinks I'm unconscious, I can continue to feel his warmth and his uninhibited touch.

As daylight breaks, my thoughts of last night become hazy, the details of the evening blurring together. Beckett didn't kiss me, but the way he danced with me, the gentle caress of his touch—it's unmistakable. There's an undeniable attraction simmering between us, a magnetic pull that's hard to ignore.

Vanessa sensed the undeniable chemistry that crackles between us and speculated that his inner turmoil revolves around our age gap. What she isn't aware of is the truth behind our sudden connection—a calculated business arrangement that has unexpectedly blurred the lines between duty and desire.

Suddenly, I feel his lips against the crown of my head.

Holy shit, he does care about me.

No one gives top of the head kisses unless they're into you.

On instinct, I moan and can't force it back in. He stills, and his body tenses. I act like I'm still asleep and adjust myself in a new position, squirming until my nose is in the pocket of his neck and shoulder. Only then does he relax.

Waiting until he slips out of bed and then hearing the slapping of his feet against the hardwood, do I open my eyes. This is real. I've slept with a badass biker. Whatever thoughts I had coming into this fake marriage are changing. I'm beyond the point of using Beckett's body as a means to prove a point to my parents, instead I'm craving an emotional and physical connection with Beckett for the experience.

Yet, the desire to make Daddy aware of a sexual relationship with his business partner still lingers. I'll bide my time; it'll happen. With the tender kiss planted on my forehead, I sense the cracks forming in Beckett's carefully constructed walls.

Despite his biker persona, Beckett exudes a sense of trustworthiness and loyalty. The fact that Daddy specifically chose him as a partner speaks volumes about his character.

I need to have a girl talk with Vanessa. Maybe she can give me some advice on how to break down Beckett's walls.

I pad downstairs in only the t-shirt I wore to bed and am hit with the bacon sizzling. "Smells good. You cook?"

"The basics."

Deciding to test the waters, I walk behind him and snake my arms around his waist. "Did you have fun on our date?"

"I did. Does breakfast count as a second date?"

I press my lips against his back, and I'm not expecting the tense reaction, but it comes. Neither of us move for a minute.

"This is actually our third date if you count dinner with my family."

He steps out of my embrace, grabbing plates and filling them with an omelet and toast. It"s clear that Beckett"s attitude has changed with the arrival of the new day, in contrast to how he was last night.

"Do you like orange juice?"

"Pineapple juice is my favorite but sure."

"Good because it's coffee, orange juice, or water since they weren't expecting renters last night."

"I'll have whatever you're having."

"Tessa, don't do that. Don't change yourself for other people. Be yourself." His attention climbs from my toes to the hem of my shirt, then clears his throat. "Your attitude is refreshing. Reckless but refreshing."

"I'm sure you've gotten wasted plenty of times."

He ignores my reference, and we eat in silence. I notice the tattoos but also marks on his arms. Was he in the military? It doesn't feel appropriate to ask about them right now, so I say, "How about a piggyback ride up to the bedroom?"

His lips pull to one side, and he takes our plates to the sink. He steps in front of me and says, "Last time. I'd rather see my fiancée's sexy legs and ass in front of me."

"You haven't asked me to marry you, yet? I know we've agreed to it, but none of my friends will believe it if I don't have a proposal."

"Noted. Get dressed. I have work at the Shack."

"Geez. You're like Jekyll and Hyde." I roll my eyes as I pull on my tight dress and carry my shoes.

"Just Hyde. It's best if you remember who I am and what I am."

All of the tenderness from the last twelve hours evaporates like dew in the morning. For a short time, it covers the grass, and the next minute, the blades are dry as a bone.

My parents question me about where I spent the night and asked if Beckett was a gentleman. It's tempting to lie and tell them we consummated our relationship, but it's not true. And one thing I need to avoid, at all costs, is Daddy calling off the deal.

Spending time with Beckett is the highlight of each and every day.

We go to lunch in my hometown of Elizabethtown, better known as E-town. I take him to a hole-in-the-wall place that's been featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. We're trying to be seen together as much as possible to make an engagement and ultimately a wedding believable.

He brings me to The Lost Souls Shack to meet some members of his club and then takes me on a ride through the hills and valleys of central Kentucky. I press my head into his back, and I notice he doesn't flinch when I hold onto his abdomen.

Progress.

A few times, I slide my hand lower, and he promptly moves it with a shaky exhale. My touch affects him, but intimacy isn't on the table with Beckett. He has made a promise and is sticking to it.

He's so fucking stubborn.

We stop at Dairy Freeze for hand-dipped butterscotch vanilla ice cream cones. He takes his helmet off and shakes his dark-blonde hair out before running his fingers through it. Beckett is wearing his leather cut, faded jeans, and a long-sleeve, skintight t-shirt. All the other times, he's been wearing nice jeans or dress pants to keep up appearances.

Walking trails wind behind the ice cream shop, so we walk around for a mile to stretch our legs. He says, "I don't have any time in the evenings to go out."

"Are you with other women?" I'm scared to hear his answer because someone as gorgeous as Beckett has to have women lining up. Add on his bad boy image and damn, I almost zone out thinking about him.

"Are you jealous, Country Club?" I swear his lips twitch. "But no, I wouldn't risk embarrassing you."

More than likely it's my dad he doesn't want on his bad side.

Beckett's nights have been his own. He hasn't given me a reason other than work, but I assume it's something to do with his club. Daddy's club, The Steel Riders is just a riding club that does charity work. After seeing the Lost Souls repair shop, there's no way all the guys who were there in the middle of the day make enough money from auto repair. They must have a side hustle.

I bite the inside of my cheek. Something doesn't add up with this arrangement.

It's been a full week of daytime dates and tonight, he's taking me to the drive-in theatre right outside Kissing Springs. I have an idea to push our relationship forward. Because I'm not marrying someone I haven't had sex with.

I call Vanessa, and we chat about Beckett. She says, "Beckett never loved being the center of attention, but he loved skating on the edge of it. You're softening him. Beau and I will be forever grateful if you can tear down his walls. They're tall and will be tough to climb, but if you can truly get him to commit, he'll be the most trustworthy, loyal, and loving person you can imagine."

It's obvious there's something in Beckett's past he hasn't shared.

"He promised to take me to the drive-in tonight. Any chance we can use the Bachelor Cabin again?"

"Sure, but his house is incredible. If he takes you there, then you have him." She practically squeals. "Praying for you girl."

The blanket covers the bed of the pickup truck he borrowed from Beau. He has a small cooler with a couple of beers, hard apple ciders, and water. I've brought a basket of snacks, both salty and sweet.

We're in the back row, farthest from the screen. He has bed pillows set up against the window of the truck. Beckett sits, gesturing for me to join him, and I do. I cozy up next to him. Darkness has just fallen, and there's a light summer breeze. I'm wearing a sundress in case he wants easy access to my lady parts. God, I hope I can use my feminine ways to convince him that we need to have sex.

Because what if he sucks at it? Oh Lord, what I would give for him to have his tongue running through my aching center.

The movie starts, and I pull out the salted chocolate pretzels and hand him the bag. He takes a few and when he's done, his hand squeezes my thigh. I squeal, not expecting it, and lay my head in the crux of his arm.

In sync with the movie, I say the next lines.

"How many times have you seen this movie?"

"My roommate Jules and I watched it on repeat before we got boyfriends."

His smile falls. "Was it serious? With your boyfriend?"

"It was to me, but I was just an interim girlfriend, knowing he was going to the NBA."

He nods thoughtfully. "Did he tell you beforehand?"

"No. He wasn't a bad guy but… listen, I know you don't want to marry me. Once again, I'm a placeholder for a man until he finds what he really wants." My words hit me harder than I expect.

Tears blur my vision as he places his knuckles under my chin and tips it so that I'm looking in his eyes. His face is soft, and his lips are parted.

"Tessa, you are what every man wants." He drops his head. "Beautiful." He presses a soft kiss against the corner of my mouth. "Strong." Beckett's lips hover over mine before he gently takes my top lip between his. "Sassy." Then he sucks my bottom lip between his.

My panties are already damp from kisses without tongue. Shocked, I pull away.

"I'm not done." He growls in a whisper, "Legs that make a man fist himself in a shower."

Two overlapping touches of his plump flesh to mine.

"Tits that make a man's mouth water." One of his hands skates up my stomach and palms my breasts. His thumb swipes back and forth over my nipple. It's puckered and tight, and his touch feels like electricity.

"Hips that make a man want to turn you over and pound you for hours." He turns fully facing me. Calloused fingers graze my jaw, down my neck to my cleavage. "I wish I could do all of those things, Tessa."

On a breathy exhale, I plead, "One time. Please."

"I'm not good enough for you. You'll see that when this is over."

"We're adults and make our own decisions." I don't give him time to reply and pull him down on top of me.