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What are you doing? Slow down, slow down! Her internal warning to herself. She should slow down. Not rub against him so much. Not moan so eagerly into his mouth. So what if this was the man who had saved her from the fire? The man she’d spent her teen years and adult life longing for? The man her therapist had once told her could never, ever possibly live up to the image she’d created of him?
Screw all that.
This. Is. Beau. Her Beau.
“Uh, boss?” A throat cleared.
Beau’s mouth reluctantly lifted from hers. Her breath heaved in and out, and her rapid heartbeat had her chest nearly shaking. Or, heck, maybe it was shaking. Her entire body shook.
Her feet weren’t even touching the floor. He still held her up. If possible, his gaze had gone even darker. Avalon knew desire when she saw it, and it was sure as sin raging back at her from the depths of Beau’s dark and deep gaze. In that instant, he looked at her as if he could eat her alive.
Go right ahead.
“You, ah, have that meeting coming up soon, remember?”
She should look over at the man speaking. And she would. Eventually. At the moment, her gaze was too busy being stuck to Beau. “You remember me.” Her hand slid down and over his right shoulder. Just to be sure. And…
Yes.
She could feel the faint ridges of his scars beneath the thin t-shirt.
“It would be better for you if I’d been able to forget.” Rumbled. Beau lowered her until her feet hit the floor.
Avalon sucked in a breath. Then another one, deeper this time. Did Beau understand just how sexy his voice was? Deep and dark. It was the kind of voice a woman could imagine coming from the hottest part of the night…
As the man thrust deep and hard into her and sent them both racing to oblivion. The kind of voice made to say naughty, wicked things.
Her tongue swiped over her lips, and she swore she could still taste him.
“Do you always go around kissing every man you meet?” Beau asked her.
Was that anger in his voice? Her brows rose. “Considering I met a serial killer yesterday and chose not to kiss him?—”
Beau’s eyes narrowed.
“Because he was absolutely terrifying and as close to a demon on earth as I think you can get,” she continued determinedly, “then, no, I can say with utter certainty that I do not, in fact, go around kissing every man I meet.” A pause. “You’re special.” Incredibly so. Special to her. “But I believe you already know that. Or are you going to pretend that you don’t recognize me?” Her hand slid over the scars beneath his white t-shirt. A careful caress. “Because these scars say you do.”
He backed away, fast.
Her hand was left hanging in the air, and her body suddenly felt very, very cold.
The nearby bartender cleared his throat. He seemed to do that quite a bit.
“The meeting is delayed,” Beau snapped. “Tell Saint that we will catch up again soon. The past decided to step up and explode in my face tonight.”
Was that what she’d done? Explode? When she’d kissed him, desire had certainly exploded within her. But Avalon didn’t exactly like the way Beau had worded things. She hadn’t exploded in the man’s face.
His fingers curled around her wrist. Right over her tattoo, and he had to feel the sudden leap of her pulse. “Come with me.” A curt order.
Her free hand flew back and grabbed the bag she’d dropped on the bar before she’d, ah, gone over it. In a fit of passion and all that.
This is not me.
But, sometimes, she didn’t know exactly who she was.
Beau was tugging on her, the young bartender was gaping, and she couldn’t very well turn and run away. Not when she’d come in the bar in order to get answers. And I found my hero waiting for me. She sent Beau a bright smile. “Since you asked so nicely…”
He growled.
