open the envelopes. I didn’t ask him to do that. He just does. I don’t want your money, Beckham. As far as I am concerned, you can take your cash and stick it up your mother’s ass.” I push past him, taking my shopping with me. He lets me, and I get to the checker before he’s behind me again.
“I’m not sure what else to say to you. I told you this morning that I have fallen in love with you. Then this afternoon is ending like this.”
“I would defend you, Beckham! If someone loves you, they defend you.”
He scratches his face. “I’m learning, Jacinta. It’s been a long time since I cared for someone other than myself.”
I nod and push forward while the checker who’s scanning my items watches us. I smile, and she looks down, blushing. Clearly, she’s heard everything we just talked about.
I pay and walk out, but he follows.
“It won’t happen again,” he says from behind me.
And I kind of believe him.
When I turn to face him, I have to remember to breathe. “I need to get home,” I say in defeat.
“I want to come,” he states, but I don’t answer him. Instead, I get in my car and drive home. When I get there, Beckham pulls in behind me. He walks over, reaches for my bags of food, and follows me inside, placing them on the counter. “Forgive me,” he pleads.
“They hurt, just so you know. Those words hurt me.”
“I’m sorry.” He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. “I’m sorry,” he says again, both hands coming up to my face, cupping me so he can see me. “I’m sorry,” he says once more, this time leaning down and kissing me. Soft, tender, and dare I say it …
… with love.
“I’ve loved someone before,” he says between kisses. “But never this way. Not like this. Not where I can’t function.” When I catch my breath at his words, I simply nod. “You are ingrained in me now. I’m very selective, Jacinta, and I choose you. Do you understand, I choose you?”
“You love me,” I say.
He smirks, those gorgeous lips lifting before he nods. “Fucking truth, I do.”
“And you are sorry?”
“Yes. I will not be speaking to my mother again. We will not see her until she apologizes.”
I grip his hands around my face. “Don’t do that. She’s your mother. You only get one. Trust me, I know this.”
“Tell me about them … your parents,” Beckham says, lifting and placing me on the counter, wedging his body between my legs as he waits for me to answer. “Tell me everything about them. So I can understand you.”
“They were each other’s first loves. Only loves …” I pause. I remember how my father used to make my mother angry, but moments later, he would play music and dance in front of her until she smiled. He was an awful dancer. And she loved to dance. “I look like her,” I tell him.
“Well then, she must have been one fucking looker.” I smile as he pulls me closer and kisses my mouth. It’s not a soft kiss this time. It’s a hard kiss. An, I’m sorry kiss. And I take it because I love him too.
Even if his mother is an ass.
Lips so tender push against mine, hands so rough search my body, for what, I’m not sure. Breaths so rapid have trouble catching mine.
“Ignore it,” Beckham says, his hand sliding up my skirt until he reaches my panties.
I smile as the knock comes again and then huff. He pulls away, putting distance between us, so I can jump off the counter. I wipe my mouth, which is covered in us.
“It’s Oliver,” I tell him, heading toward the door. Upon opening it, Oliver barrels into my legs, and Leo stands there smiling, holding onto his bag.
“He’s been excited since dinner to come to see Beckham,” Leo says, looking behind me at where Beckham is now standing.
“Well, we shall not disappoint.” Beckham follows Oliver to his room to show him all the things he got today, and I turn back around to Leo.
“Anderson doesn’t want to know Oliver. It was all his mother’s doing,” Leo says.
“She’s left. She is no longer in the country. She met a man. It was quick and now she’s moving to Paris.” Relief washes over me. “She just informed me, and I wanted you to know.” I nod, smiling.
Glancing over Leo’s shoulder, I see Glenn getting out of Leo’s car.
“Did