Free Hard to Let Go by Laura Kaye Page B

turned to face him, giving him a smile he didn’t really believe. “See? My shit is so not together.”
    He sensed that she was shuttering up, and it was the last thing he wanted. Because the stuff she was saying . . . it resonated with him. Did he know what it felt like to be angry? Uh, yeah. And then some. It was quite possible that Angry was his middle fucking name. Had been for years. So, yeah, he got it.
    “The anger,” he said, hoping to keep her from clamming up. “I get it. The key is not to let it get the best of you, but use it. Let it build a fire inside of you. You’ll need it to get through this clusterfuck. To get you through the exhaustion and the stress and the worry. Way more powerful than fear.” Digging into that dark, restless energy inside him was how Beckett had powered through the most intense moments of his SF career. The only good thing his father had ever done for him was prepare him for how to endure and persevere through the worst sorts of hell. And every time Beckett had persevered, had come out the other side unscathed, it felt like a giant fuck you very much to his father.
    She gave him an appraising look. “Is that what you do?”
    Beckett nodded, even though he wasn’t sure he really had it under control. Which meant he could snap, just like his father had—so many times. “Something like that.”
    Rolling her shoulders, she took a deep breath. “Thanks, Beckett. Just venting actually helped a lot.” She gave a small chuckle. “Although I can’t believe I just dumped all that on you. And I am sorry I took it out on you.”
    He’d . . . helped her? An odd feeling bloomed inside his chest. He resisted pressing on his sternum to try to make it go away. “Uh, well. Good. That’s good.”
    “Thank you,” she said. And then she closed the distance between them, threaded her arms around his waist and hugged him, her head settling on his chest.
    Beckett was so stunned that, like the fucking emotional misfit he was, he didn’t immediately react.
    “Sorry,” she whispered, pulling away as if embarrassed. As if she thought he didn’t want her embrace.
    Nothing could have been further from the truth.
    “Stay,” he said, closing his arms around her back. He pulled her in tight.
    And as they stood in the dark holding each other, Beckett had a goddamned ridiculous realization.
    He could count the number of people who had hugged him before this moment on one finger—Becca, when she’d apologized to him for what they’d all thought her father had done. Before that, Beckett couldn’t ever remember being hugged. Not once.

 
    Chapter 6

    T he revelation was about as comfortable as swallowing glass. Beckett wanted to run from it. Hard and fast.
    Problem was, his arms wouldn’t let Kat go. His body refused to pull away. In fact, the louder he yelled at himself to get the hell out of there, the more firmly he hugged Kat against him.
    She squeezed him tighter in return, and he was acutely aware of how her body fit against his. Her heart beat quicker against his abdomen. Soft puffs of her breath caressed his arm. Muscles that had been relaxed tensed. Her hands gripped his back tighter, with more purpose, with something that felt like want.
    Beckett didn’t think he was imagining any of this. And it lit a fire inside his body, one that had his blood heating and his heart racing and his cock hardening against her belly.
    But he couldn’t act on any of it. Or at least he shouldn’t. First, because it’d only been a few hours since he’d taken her the first time, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her or make her feel like he was using her for sex. Second, because his gut reaction after their first time was that it had been a mistake, which meant he really shouldn’t repeat it. And third, because . . . because . . . Well, fuck. Screw a third reason. Two reasons were good enough.
    Except then she tensed her stomach muscles against his erection, shifted her stance, and