Page 32 of Beni

“Hey,” she said.

Beni stuffed his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the doorjamb. “Hey, yourself. How’re those hands of yours, huh?”

She flipped her palms up, showcasing cleaned scrapes, and despite what he thought … no bandages. It really wasn’t that bad.

“Maybe I overreacted in having you come in,” he said.

“Maybe?”

“Better safe than sorry.”

August’s smile softened. “Yeah, I guess. So, hey …”

“Hmm?”

Her cheeks flushed again.

Beni grinned.

He knew what was coming.

Better for this woman to just ask for it. Or demand it, whatever.

He was up for both.

“Is your place still up for—”

“Absolutely,” he said, “as long as you’re up to it, August.”

She peeked up again through those dark, thick lashes of hers. At some point, she must have removed the band from her braids keeping them back in a pony, because now they hung loosely down her back, nearly reaching the bed.

She really was something else.

So fucking beautiful.

“Well, I am free to go anytime,” she said.

Beni laughed. “Don’t need to tell me twice, baby.”

Beni barely remembered entering his apartment. He couldn’t even recall how he managed to get August down the hall to his bedroom without hitting a wall, or shit, falling. He was too focused on her, how she kissed him, and the way she sounded when he bit that racing pulse point on her throat.

Her lily and sugar scent felt like a perfect mix of her—sensuality, and sweetness. A dichotomy, if there ever was one, but damn him, if it didn’t fit her amazingly. He took the chance to admire the soft lines of her delicate shoulders, and the peek of her collarbones under the silk cami when she pulled the leather jacket down her arms, and tossed it to the chair in the corner across from his bed.

She needed to be appreciated.

Admired.

Even when dressed.

Because look at her.

God, look at her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Beni tipped his head to the side, taking in the slope of the anticipation he could see in her inviting smile. “Memorizing you.”

“Why?”