The Complete Arrogant Series (71 page)

My head dips back, his hands
searching my body, skirting along my sensitive flesh.

“I’m yours,” I whisper.

His fingers slip inside the waist
of my leggings, and travel between my thighs until they find my wet slit.
Dragging his fingertips between my
seam
, his thumb
circles my swollen clit.

I grind against him, his fingers
sliding deep inside me, coaxing me, teasing me.

He doesn’t stop, and I realize
this isn’t about him. For the first time, this isn’t about a physical release
for Beckham.

“Do I make you happy?” His free
hand presses against the small of my back as my hips rock.

Biting my lip and squeezing my
eyes, I offer a breathless, “Yes.”

“Am I enough for you?”

“God, Beckham, yes…you’re
enough…”

And
yet I can’t get enough of you…

Minutes later I’m unable to fight
the burning friction building up below. With hips circling and rocking, I ride
myself to the edge, collapsing against his chest when it’s over.

“I didn’t want to need you.” With
Beckham’s face buried in my hair, his soft tone tickles my ear. “God, I fought
it like hell.”

I smile though he can’t see.

His fingers slip up the back of
my neck before tangling in my hair and tugging me back until our eyes meet.

“Do you remember what you told me
the first time we went to Utah?” His blue eyes radiate in the afternoon
sunlight. “You said one of these days I was going to meet my match, and she was
going to knock me sideways.”

“I remember.”

“You’re my fucking match, Odessa.
I knew right then it was going to be you,” he says. “It’s been you since the
moment you flipped me off in the elevator.”

Quiet laughter fills my chest,
and I rest my cheek against his steel shoulder. His arms wrap around me,
pulling me into him.

My father’s words echo in my
mind,
“Life didn’t matter until your mother.”

“I was just existing before I met
you,” I whisper, voice cracked. “You brought me to life.”

Closing my eyes, my lips find
his, soaking in this moment, basking in the beauty of a moment that will define
us for the rest of our lives.

BECKHAM

The knot of my tie is crooked.

I’ve tied hundreds, thousands of
ties in my day, but for some reason I can’t get this one right.

My fingers show a hint of a
tremor as I tug it loose and start over again. Facing the mirror, I drape the
tie around my neck and cross one end over the other.

Odessa steps out of the shower,
wrapping a towel around her body and slicking her soaked hair out of her face.

“Need help?” She saunters toward
me, gripping the pale pink tie and starting from the top. A minute later it’s
done. Perfectly. “There.”

The white envelope rests on the
bathroom counter. I’d shoved it in a drawer for weeks, not ready yet to see the
results. I now know that I’ll never be ready.

“The hearing’s in an hour,” she
says. “We’ve got to get going.”

Her eyes drop toward the white
letter, and she pauses.

“Beck, do you want to open it?”

My hand cups the back of my neck,
my teeth raking my lower lip. “Thinking about it.”

“No matter what it says in there,
everything’s going to work out. You have to believe that.”

Sucking in a hard breath I grab
the envelope and rip it open before I have a chance to talk myself out of it.
Odessa watches, barely breathing, as my eyes scan the letter.

I don’t read the whole thing. I
don’t have to. The words “excluded” and “zero probability” are in bold.

My knees threaten to buckle, my
heart hammering in my chest. The bathroom is hot. Spinning.

“Beckham…” Odessa rushes to me,
slipping her arms under mine. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

I push her away, gripping the
edge of the bathroom counter until I can catch my breath.

“Want me to get Sadie?” Odessa
places a hand on my shoulder.

“I need a minute, okay?”

Her hand falls, but she hasn’t
left. “You are her father, Beckham. It doesn’t matter what the test says.
You’re the one who stepped in when she had no one else. You were there since
the moment she took her first breath, and you haven’t left her side once.”

Questions silently ricochet. If
I’m not her father, who is? What if Eva changes her mind? What if the judge
decides to place her in foster care?

An unexpected calm washes over
me. I have to be strong. I have to fight. There’s no other choice.

If not for me,
then for my
daughter
.

ODESSA

2
years later…

“Look at the monkeys, Sadie!”

My mom points toward an enclosure
filled with orangutans and Sadie squeals, her dark pigtails bopping as she
runs. The Central Park Zoo is extra sparse today, and it’s a balmy seventy-five
degrees. Public schools are back in session so that means we almost have the
whole place to ourselves.

I push her empty stroller, a
handful of steps behind Beckham. A month into my third trimester, it’s getting
a little harder to keep up with everyone.

Beck turns around, “You doing
okay?”

With one hand cupping my bulbous
belly I smile and nod. “She’s kicking extra hard today.”

“It’s the apple juice you drank
this morning,” Mom calls back. “All that sugar.”

Sadie scampers up to the railing
by the orangutans and Beckham comes up behind, scooping her up and depositing
her on his shoulders so she can see. He’s a good dad, and he doesn’t give
himself nearly enough credit.

Beckham holds her by the knees,
ensuring she won’t fall off his shoulders should she decide to get wiggly. At
times, he’s overly protective of her, but I can’t blame him. In the back of his
mind, he’s still terrified something’s going to happen to her.
Something beyond his control.

A powerless Beckham is a
dangerous Beckham, despite the fact that he’s softened just a tad over the last
two years.

I park the stroller and waddle
toward them. Mom is reading off the nearby plaque, telling Sadie what
orangutans eat and all about their native habitats. Dad would’ve loved to be
here, but I know he’s here in spirit.

“You excited for tomorrow?”
Beckham crouches down to ask.

I glance up at a grinning Sadie
and nod. Tomorrow she becomes my daughter. Legally. Beckham and I married eight
months ago in a civil ceremony. My parents were here, and my siblings, and his
best friend, Xavier. Dane and Bellamy came too. After the ceremony, we had a
private dinner at one of the swankiest restaurants in the city and set off for
an Italian honeymoon.

Leaving Sadie for the first time
was hard, but knowing she was with my mom made it easier to stomach.

“Can’t wait.” I hook my hand into
his elbow.

“Mama!” Sadie points to one of
the monkeys swinging from a makeshift branch. “Look!”

“I see that,” I say, adding extra
excitement in my tone. I’ll never get tired of seeing the world through her
eyes.

Almost two years ago to the day,
a family court judge agreed that Sadie could stay with Beckham and that he
could start the process to formally adopt her. Every so often we expect Eva to
show up out of nowhere, demanding to see her and declaring she had a change of
heart, but the last we knew, Eva had moved out of the city and back to
Argentina when she met her match in some Chilean doctor.

When Eva relinquished her rights
to Sadie, she went on record as saying Sadie’s father was an anonymous sperm
donor, even going so far as to provide the donor number, which we matched up
with a private, sperm donor registry based out of upstate New York.

“I’m ready for it to be
official,” I say. “Can’t help but feel she was always supposed to be mine.”

Beckham lifts Sadie from his
shoulders, placing her gently on the ground until she bolts off toward my mom.
Turning to me, he takes my hand and gives it a good squeeze.

“And you,” I say. “You were
always supposed to be mine too.”

“I didn’t stand a chance,” he
says, leaning to gift me with a sweet kiss.

“Okay, I guess Sadie wants to see
the zebras next,” Mom calls.

Beckham pushes the empty
stroller, keeping pace with me as Mom holds Sadie’s hand up ahead.

“What are you thinking about?” I
ask. “Awful quiet today.”

He offers a gentle smile, lips
closed tight. “Just thinking that it doesn’t get any better than this.”

I thread my fingers through his,
pressing my cheek against his arm as we stroll.

“This,” he says. “This is what I
live for.”

THE END

AMAZON TOP 100 BESTSELLING AUTHOR
Winter Renshaw recently celebrated her third 29th birthday. By day, she
wrangles kids and dogs, and by night, she wrangles words. She loves peonies,
lipstick, and balmy summer days. Chips and salsa are her jam, and so is
cruising down the highway with the windows down and the air blasting while 80s
rock blares from the speakers of her Mom-UV.

She would describe her writing
style as sexy, conflicted, and laced with heart. Her heroes are always alpha
and her heroines are always smart and independent. HEA guaranteed.

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