Page 2 of Second Draft

“Is she okay?” The little man strings his hands together, sweat beading on his brow.

“She’s fine,” my hero answers for me, then practically growls at the crowd, “Move on. There’s nothing to see.”

The command has people scattering, carrying on with their day as if they hadn’t just witnessed a twenty-one-year-old woman walk directly into oncoming traffic because she was nose deep in chapter twenty-two of Vi Keeland’s newest book. A book that now lays scattered across Main Street.

Damn it. I was only halfway through it too.

“What the hell were you thinking?” My inked savior is staring at me, all dark and broody, like it was my plan to almost be run down. “You could have been killed.”

I wince, knowing he’s right, but I barely get any time to read. Not with juggling two jobs, and trying to get my GED certificate at night.

He grunts, still watching me with a heaviness that makes my skin warm, and my insides knot.

Unsteadily, I stand, and dust off the pieces of gravel that stick to my jeans. “Thanks for pulling me back.”

His mouth quirks up, in the first semblance of a smile he’s given me. But I’m not fooled. I know what’s coming. I can see it in his eyes, in the way his body leans closer to me, drawing me to him like a magnet.

The guy has danger written all over him. Yeah, I wouldn’t doubt it’s written in ink somewhere on that beautiful, sculpted body.

His blue eyes twinkle, despite the intensity in his gaze. Slow, and predatory-like, he closes the distance between us, and I can feel the heat he produces like a flame on my skin.

“I can think of a way you can make it up to me.” His tone is both playful and dripping with promise, and I can’t help the shiver of anticipation that races down my spine.

“I’m sure you can,” I mumble sarcastically, even though my body is begging to find out just how many ways Icanmake it up to him.

“Have dinner with me.” The slant of his mouth, the look in his eyes, is so self-assured, so confident, it’s clear that he isn’t used to being turned down.

“Just dinner?” I raise an eyebrow, knowing there’s always a catch. A man like him, would never wantjustdinner.

He pins me with a full out smile, one that shows off the dimple in his cheek, and leaves my knees turning to jelly. “Unless you’d like breakfast too.”

There it is.If I wasn’t so damn hot and bothered right now, I’d probably chuckle at the predictability.

He leans in closer, his smile confident, almost arrogant, as if he’s used to getting whatever he wants with just a single request.

To be honest, if I was any other person, one who wasn’t completely terrified of what a man like him could do to a woman like me, I’d probably take him up on his offer.

“Thanks again for helping me.” I start to turn, but he reaches for my wrist, and a thousand bolts of electricity race through my veins, sending a stabbing heat straight to my core.

Damn him. And damn the way my body responds. All warm and tingly, and willing at any second to throw itself into his arms.

His thumb strokes my skin, and his eyes search mine. His touch is like a taser, making it impossible to move, or even speak.

“At least give me your name.” His tone, dark and deep, skates over me like a rugged caress.

My mouth parts, and it takes me a few seconds to find my voice, “Layla.”

“Layla.” My name rolls off his tongue. His gaze filled with wicked intent.

Another shiver races down my spine, and I sear he knows it, because his grin only broadens.

This man would destroy me. The small, unbroken fragments that are left of my heart wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

Electricity.

Fire.

Those things destroy. I’d already been burned once, and I wasn’t about to let it happen again.

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