Page 79 of Honey Bee Hearts

I lose my breath at his words, unsure of what exactly I’m getting myself into, but just tipsy enough not to question things. I want this. I want Trent so badly, it hurts. Trent takes the stairs slowly, purposely, his hand on my ass to keep me steady where he has me thrown over his shoulder. Colt follows behind and when I meet his eyes, he winks at me.

“Welcome to Circle Bee, Annie Oakley,” he teases.

I think I stop breathing entirely.

Chapter 42

Trent

This is a mistake, but damn if I don’t want to make it over and over again. I’ve had one too many beers, and the reasons to resist Fable are muted right now. Despite knowing that, despite still being completely coherent and aware of what I’m doing, I decide I don’t want to fight it tonight. I want her. But I’m not Colt, or Rhett, or Gunnar. I’m not easy to digest, and my tastes aren’t exactly vanilla. She has no idea what she’s gotten into by kissing me.

She has no idea how badly I want her.

I carry her over my shoulder up the stairs and into my large room. It’s sparsely decorated, only because I prefer to decorate my skin rather than this room. Still, there’s evidence that I live here. A small pile of greasy clothing I need to spray with degreaser sits in the corner. A small metal bee I sculpted sits on the bedside table. Other items lay scattered across the vanity in the bathroom.

The large, iron, four-poster bed I’d made takes up most of the space. I’d made the thing when I couldn’t find one I liked, and I’d been showing off a little bit. Small metal leaves decorate the curling iron, giving it a fairytale look. All it’s missing is somehanging silks, but that seemed too girly for my taste. Now, I’m regretting not going for them. Fable would look like a goddess lying in the middle of the bed if it was draped.

I kick the door shut behind us and lock it when Colt follows inside. I point to the chair against the wall and Colt immediately goes over and takes a seat without a word, the perfect, silent watcher. He’ll make noise at some point, but he’ll never come forward and touch if I don’t invite him. And I don’t plan to.

Moving over to the bed, I carefully deposit Fable on the edge of it. Her pretty hazel eyes stare up at me in both excitement and nervousness. She’d kissed me. I’m not nearly through with kissin’ her. Leaning down, I capture her lips with mine, tasting cake and beer. It’s intoxicating. She’s intoxicating, this woman I should be resisting. But fuck it. If no one else is, why should I torture myself so much. She’ll leave, but at least I can remember her this way, lookin’ up at me like I’m not as worthless as I feel half the time.

“Last chance,” I croak when I pull back.

“For what?” she asks, her chest rising and falling with her breathing. Her breasts strain against her t-shirt, begging for me to free them.

“To leave,” I answer, bracing my arms on either side of her so that I’m right in her face. “If we do this, you should know my. . . tastes. . . aren’t quite the same as the others.”

Colt straightens in his chair, his hand inching toward his cock where it strains against his jeans. He knows what I’m talkin’ about, though not because I told him. Colt has a way of findin’ information that should be worrisome.

“What does that mean?” she rasps, her fingers reaching up to smooth through my loose hair. The way she gently combs through it makes me want to arch my back and growl at the same time.

I meet her eyes. “If you want to stay here, you’ll have to wait and see.”

“And if I stay?” she rasps.

“Then I’m going to brand you into my soul, little ironworker,” I rasp.

I can see her thinking, can see her wondering what it is I’m warning her about. She’ll never come close to figuring it out, not until she realizes, not until I reveal it. I should probably disclose more. Not all women are into the same things I am. Fable could be one of those women, and if we get to that point, she’ll have the option to say no. Until then, I plan to enjoy what little time I have with her.

Until she realizes I’m the hornet I warned her about.

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Okay?” I clarify, just to make sure.

She nods. “Okay. I’m staying.”

“That’a girl,” Colt murmurs from his seat against the wall.

I glance over at him, and he settles deeper into his chair, readying himself for a hell of a show. This isn’t typical. I don’t know why I told him he could watch, but it’s too late to back out now. I’m sure I could tell him to leave, and he would, but part of me doesn’t want to be in here alone when she realizes that. . .

“So what now?’ Fable asks, leaning back on her elbows. “Do I just. . . wait?”

She’d lost her hat somewhere between downstairs and here, probably because of the way I’d picked her up. Her cheeks are flushed from the bottles of beer she’d drank while we’d played UNO. She’s beautiful, but nothing comes close to the way she’d looked when she’d realized what was in the box I’d given her.

I bet you’d make an amazing sword.

I did. From the moment she’d spoken those words to me, I’ve been working on that sword downstairs, painstakingly molding and shaping metal until it was as good as I wanted it to be. Theone I’d given her is the third attempt. The first two hadn’t been good enough, perfect enough, for someone like her. She’d been right.

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