Fade Back (A Stepbrother Romance Novella) by Stephanie Brother Page B

after each panel he filled in... Becka was starting to feel the familiar stirrings of lust. She hadn't expected it, so deep was the stew of her misery before now. Every now and then a little moan slipped out of her and she'd draw in breath sharply, Fitz tsk-tsking her for the movement.  
    The hours wore on, and Fitz started to respond, or at least his grunts and mumbles bore a hint of communication instead of gruff command. Becka was gratified to see, when sneaking a peek at him as he fiddled with his gear, that he was flushed and breathing heavy. It didn't come across as angry. Becka wanted to fold him up and keep him safe. She wanted to take all the hurt from those sorrowful eyes and see that naughty dirty charm again. She wanted to kiss away the tears she was sure she saw brimming there. She wanted to fix this, and be with him. 
    Fitz reached the last color in his stack and with extra diligence set to filling in the remaining specks of bare skin. Becka knew she had to say something now, or she may never get the chance.
    "I think our parents are wrong, Fitz."
    The buzzing stopped short and the pen clattered to the surface of the tool-strewn rolling caddy. Becka saw Fitz breathe in sharply, a catch in it—and a tiny sniff. She closed her eyes and felt the hasty application of the moist towel on her torso and the feel of cooling lotion smearing across her skin. 
    "Please say something."
    "I don't know what to say," came his reply, after several moments had passed, which felt to Becka like lifetimes upon lifetimes. "I guess I'm just kind of... kind of a dinosaur. Too old-fashioned.” 
    "Sexy dinosaur," Becka murmured and then mentally slapped her forehead. That was the old Becka, still tumbling away somewhere in there, trying to make light of serious situations, sabotaging any chance of a connection with mindless innuendo.
    But luckily, Fitz gave a soft, half-hearted 'ha' in response. The dejection in his voice made Becka’s heart cry out, and she caught Fitz’s hand in hers and held it tight. She rolled over onto her side, careful of the plastic wrap Fitz had applied, and looked up into his eyes. 
    "Please, we’re not doing anything wrong. Give us another chance."
    Becka watched as Fitz’s eyes held her gaze for a moment, as they crept down the length of her semi-naked torso, lingering over her perfect bra-clad breasts. She felt her ears ringing as Fitz checked her out, and under his watch, she felt herself getting moist between her legs. She saw Fitz notice her hastened breathing, saw his tongue dart once in the corner of his mouth. She dropped her gaze to Fitz’s hips and allowed herself a faint smile as she noticed his cock grow stiff, drinking in the sight of him.
    She still had it. They still had it. How could anyone ignore an attraction this strong? She wanted to pull Fitz down and suck his tongue, have him pinch and tweak her nipples, slip in and out of her anywhere and anyhow he liked until she, until both of them, felt better. 
    "Please, Fitz..." she whispered and licked her own lips. She wasn't surprised when he, face burning with shame and grief and lust, turned away from her, but it still hurt. She tried to ignore the frenzied throbbing between her thighs. What mattered now was getting a second chance. "I want to take you to dinner. Anywhere you want to go. I want you to tell me everything about you since you’ve moved away, and I want to tell you some things you've helped me realize about me. I... I think I love you, Fitz. I want you to give me a chance to show you I mean that. Please say yes .” 
    Fitz stood with his back to her, head downcast. Eventually, in a voice no bigger than a whisper, he said the words Becka longed to hear.
    "Cafe Montmartre at 8 PM,” he said, then moved swiftly through the beaded curtain. Becka heard the click of the heavy metal door and a muttered protest from Karen before she even found her shirt.    

    " S o , that went okay.” Karen was standing at the door to