Eleven: Take Care of You

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I COULDN'T HAVE BEEN MORE relieved that there wasn't anyone else in the elevator when we got on

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I COULDN'T HAVE BEEN MORE relieved that there wasn't anyone else in the elevator when we got on. Beau pushed me to the back of it, caging me between his arms as he dipped his head to kiss me again. God, he was a good kisser. He knew just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of tongue to use to make my knees weak.

"Fuck," he groaned, and it sent lust pooling between my legs. At least until he followed it up with, "Nessa."

I immediately pulled back, dread sinking all the way to the tips of my toes.

"Did you just groan your friend's name while kissing me?"

Words seemed to get caught in Beau's throat. "Oh God, no," he eventually managed to spit out. He even laughed a little bit. "I'll admit...that, uh, came out wrong, though."

"You think?" When I went to take a step back, he grabbed my wrist.

"Get back here, sweetheart. I was groaning Nessa's name because I realized I'm her ride home, and I just ditched her. But I'm pretty sure she's in good hands at the moment."

I had mixed feelings about his explanation. It was hard to make sense of them, though, because he took that moment to cup my face and kiss me again.

"Do you always think about your friends when you're kissing other girls?" I asked, trying to find it somewhere in me to care when his lips were brushing against mine, tender and soft.

"No." Beau chuckled. "But there's something you need to know about me, Collins," he whispered.

"What's that?"

"I'm the kind of guy who makes sure everyone else is taken care of first."

I swallowed. Something about the way he said those words made my insides feel tangled and confused. And I could see it being true, too. Earlier, he hadn't even taken a sip of alcohol until he was sure that everyone else would be okay.

His lips started to trail to my jaw and then my neck. I arched back, letting him suck on a sensitive hollow, making me see spots in my vision.

"How about I take care of you now, huh?" he breathed.

I didn't know how to say no to that.


Something had died in my bed. I realized it the moment I woke up. Probably like a feral cat or something. Maybe it had slipped in the door one night when we came home.

Yawning, I rolled onto my back and—

Oh, yeah, no. That was my breath. That was definitely my breath that smelled like something had died. Gagging on the taste of my own cottonmouth, I flung myself out of bed.

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