Loving the Beast (Skye Warren) (A) Read Online Free Page B

move into one.”
    Erin surveyed the navy blue bedspread and classic baseball posters on the wall. It seemed impersonal and yet… it wouldn’t be an ordinary guest bedroom. Not with that neat line of trophies on the bookshelf. “Was this your bedroom?”
    He coughed. “We can stay in the other one.”
    “Oh no,” she said, laughing. “We’re definitely staying in this one.”
    His cheeks looked definitely darker. “The other room probably has a queen mattress. Maybe king. We’ll have more room.”
    And his only had a double bed, it looked like, but she wouldn’t have left for anything. Instead she wandered in, running her fingers along the smooth walnut desk and line of books. “What were you like as a kid?”
    She was fascinated just thinking about it. He was so firmly adult in her mind, so experienced and even wise. This room did little to dispel that image. It was like something out of a catalog. Not lived in. Not his .
    He snorted. “Selfish. Stupid. Like most kids in this neighborhood. Wait here and I’ll get the bags from the other room.”
    The idea of a selfish Blake was as foreign to her as a young one. All kids were probably self-centered to some extent. Erin had been. That night her mother had come home crying had opened her eyes.
    What had opened Blake’s? His time overseas? Or something before that?
    Blake returned with half the bags and stacked them by the others near the closet. She briefly wondered if Mrs. Morris would get upset about them messing with her room assignments, but Blake seemed to handle her pretty well.
    “What do you want to do?” he asked, closing the door, shutting them in.
    She shrugged. “Are you tired? You drove all that way, and I got to nap.”
    “A little. I could sleep, but only if you’re with me.”
    The idea of sleeping in this bed together, in Blake’s bed where he had been a teenager, where he had turned into a man, gave her a sort of thrill. There was an emotional component for sure, being with him, knowing him this way. As if the fabric, the mattress, had his story printed on them—invisible but just as true.
    And there was a physical component too. A little taboo but definitely hot.
    “I could lie down,” she said, drawing her finger over the smooth bedding. “Though I wasn’t thinking of sleeping.”
    Surprise flashed briefly through his eyes. “Here?”
    She glanced back. Maybe smaller than their usual bed but definitely big enough for two. “Have you ever?”
    He knew what she was asking—if he’d ever had sex here before. An expression of guilt and pride crossed his face. “Yes.”
    She considered that, and what else she knew about teenage boys. “Where’s your stash?”
    His expression became suddenly, carefully blank. “My what?”
    “Your stash. You know, stash of porn. Every boy has one, right?”
    “What makes you think I left one here?”
    She shrugged. “Did you?”
    “I’d never leave something where my parents could find it.”
    “Oh.” She was a little disappointed, but she searched for something else to ask him. It was too delicious being here where he’d once been both horny and innocent. They’d had sex a hundred times, a hundred ways—each time more inventive than the last. Was he always this way? Was it something he’d become? And then she knew what she’d ask next. “Who was your first?”
    Silence.
    She was sure he wouldn’t answer. She’d crossed the line, gotten too personal.
    And irrationally, she felt hurt. Weren’t they going to share their lives together? God, she’d shared everything with him. Was she supposed to hold back?
    He never let her hold back.
    And the smile that crossed his face made her heart speed up. It was no longer vague or even shy, this smile. It promised that he wouldn’t hold back either. When he reached back to lock the door, to lock them inside, she tensed. Because he wasn’t just going to answer her with words.
    And maybe that was what she’d wanted.
    Then again, maybe it was