Page 21 of Protected By the Sinner
“I don’t like unfinished business.”
“Maybe from your perspective, I’m unfinished business, but I’m sure you can find someone to take my place.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. According to the instructions, I should be happy and eager to see him again, but right now, my survival instinct is louder.
It’s telling me to run from this man whose eyes seem to invite me into something both terrifying and thrilling.
“I don’t want a replacement. I want you. Let me in. I have a proposition for you.”
Despite what he says, Beau doesn’t force his way in, which calms me just a little.
I can see the dark SUVs behind him, parked with tinted windows.
His eyes scan me from head to toe, and without meaning to, my body leans toward him.
He seems to notice, and those blue-green eyes darken.
Facing Beau without the dim lighting of the club is intimidating. He’s huge, and he redefines the word “masculine.”
Seeing him in a suit now instead of the sleek casual outfit from before sets off a fantasy in my head—of ripping it off, layer by layer, until I reach his skin.
“How did you find me?” I don’t even pretend I left the apartment for no reason. He clearly knows.
“That’s not the right question, Amber. The question is: why did I bother coming after you when you ran?”
I swallow hard. “Why?”
He steps forward, and I instinctively take a step back. “Because I don’t usually deny myself pleasure.”
“And I’m a pleasure?”
“Not yet,” he murmurs, twirling a lock of my hair around his fingers, “but I intend to fix that quickly.”
I feel like I’m strapped into a rollercoaster, waiting for the drop, equal parts terrified and desperate for it. For the freefall into the kind of man whose raw sexuality knocks the air from my lungs.
“You said you had a proposition,” I manage, forcing my focus away from his absurdly sexy mouth.
“We’ll talk about that later. I’m taking you to dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”
I try to hide my surprise but probably fail. “How do you know that?”
He ignores the question, letting his eyes travel over me again. “You don’t need to change. You look beautiful like this.”
Cocky bastard.
“I wasn’t planning to change anyway.”
“Then let’s go.”
It sounds like a command, and some stubborn part of me I didn’t know existed steps backward, deeper into the room.
I must be crazy. I’m supposed to be sweet and agreeable.
It takes me all of half a second to realize I made a mistake by challenging him. Beau is far too experienced not to know the effect he has on me.
He moves in, invading my personal space. The fingers that were gently—if that word even applies to him—twisting in my hair now tighten. “Does challenging me turn you on?” His voice is low and rough.
Deny it,logic warns, but I can’t resist. “Maybe.” I can feel his heat. Smell his scent.
