My Cruel Lover (Wicked Poison #3) - T.L. Smith Page 0,51

I take a few deep breaths as my hand lays on my beating heart.

I think …

… I love him.

I’ve never felt this way for a man. Ever. I would never allow one to come into my house and sleep under the same roof as me if I didn’t trust him.

And I do trust him.

And I don’t trust many men.

Managing to move, I get Oliver’s breakfast ready before he comes into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and going straight to the table where his bowl sits.

“Is Beckham coming out for breakfast?” Oliver asks, looking up from his iPad.

My eyes go wide at his words, and then I blink a few times. My words are caught in my throat.

“Sure am. What you cooking me?” Beckham asks, stepping out fully dressed.

How did he do that so fast?

Beckham sits next to Oliver and grins at my shocked expression. He leans over and scruffs the top of Oliver’s head. “Oliver here ran into the room this morning, so I put him back to bed,” Beckham explains.

I look at Oliver. “What was wrong?”

“He needed water,” Beckham answers for him. “Easy fix.”

Oliver looks back down to his iPad as I place another bowl of cereal in front of Beckham. He smiles as he takes it, then leans over to watch whatever Oliver is doing. I head to my bathroom, pausing to glance back at them—both their heads in sync as they stare at the screen.

After fixing my face and hair, I go back out to find Beckham cleaning the kitchen as Oliver is getting ready.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say as Beckham pauses and peers at me over his shoulder.

“I used it … I can most certainly wash it.” He doesn’t understand what that small gesture does to me. I’m so used to being alone that having someone choose to help me warms my heart.

“Did you love him?” Beckham asks, not looking my way.

“Who?”

“August. Did you love him?” His dark eyes find mine, and his hands remain in the sink as he washes the last dish. He’s waiting patiently for me to answer.

I didn’t think he would ask me that, actually. I didn’t think Beckham would ask me much about my life at all. I didn’t think he would care enough to ask such questions.

“Yes,” I say.

His chest rises and falls at my words. He turns back to the dishes and continues.

“But not in the way he loves Rylee,” I finally say. “I’m starting to see that I loved him, yes, but I was never really in love with him. Probably because his heart always belonged to her, and I was just a fixture in waiting until she came back.”

“I’m pretty sure I love you.”

My heart stops at his words.

My eyes go wide.

I can’t move.

How do you respond to someone who says that, who has never given you anything but their body before? Never given you one ounce of anything but anguish.

I open my mouth and shut it.

He isn’t facing me, but I know he’s waiting for my response.

The doorbell rings, and I make no move to answer it until it rings again. Then I walk past him to the front door, opening it to Leo, who’s standing there. He smiles at me as Oliver runs over. I don’t like to bring up Anderson and his mother around Oliver, so I keep my mouth shut in regard to what’s happening with them or if he’s heard from them. Leo steps into the house to grab Oliver’s bag and flinches when he sees Beckham wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

“Beckham …” he pauses. “Nice to see you.”

Beckham nods and goes back to cleaning.

Cleaning? Who is this man, and what has he done with the man who barks orders at me?

“We should be back tonight. The circus is a little later in the day, then I am going to take him to the park to run around a bit. Then I will feed him before we come back if that’s okay with you?”

“That will be lovely,” I say, smiling. I bend down to kiss Oliver, and he hugs me, then runs over to Beckham and cuddles him as well. Beckham pauses as Oliver wraps his arms around him from behind and taps his hand with a smile on his face.

“Have a good day, kid.” I shut the door when they leave, and when I turn, he’s right there in front of me.

Beckham’s lip curls and I’m reminded of what a cruel man he can be.

But he isn’t