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How it would feel to touch her and not have her turn away. To taste her lips.
No.
Reality came barreling back into his brain. He’d only come here to look, to be close to her. He had no business talking to this woman…laughing with her…flirting with her. His hands were damn-near stained with blood. He was broken.
Beneath her.
And if Sucre ever got wind she had caught his eye, it could be a death sentence.
Only her ignorance about his real life allowed her to look at him as though he might be a normal guy. A mistake he needed to correct quickly.
Why the hell would she be thinking about me?
“You shouldn’t.” He pushed his empty glass away and swallowed against the gravel in his throat. “You shouldn’t think about me at all. I’m not a good man, Olivia. Probably the worst you’ll ever meet.” He dropped a ten-dollar-bill on the bar, then snagged a handful of plastic cups. “You’re better off staying far away from me.”
He allowed himself one last look into her wide blue eyes, then returned to his crew. One more drink, then he would leave. And he would not look at Olivia again.
Of course, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep the promise. The image of her face had burned in his brain whether he liked it or not.
Fuck it. I’m leaving now.
