Page 23 of Cherry Beats

Another three knocks.

Then it sounded like a head slamming against the door, followed by a familiar, gravelly growl of frustration.

“Cherry,” he said roughly. “It’s me. Open up, will you? I need you.”

Presley.

He was back.

And he was standing right outside my door.

Chapter Eight

“Cherry, I know you’re in there. I’ve been out here for fifteen minutes, listening to you shout at the television in my defence.”

“What the fuck,” I mouthed to myself, no sound coming out.

“Please, Tess.” He paused, his voice dropping lower. “Please.”

I moved without thinking, sucking in a very shaky breath before I reached for the door handle and peeked through the peephole. It was him. The top of his head was the only thing I could see as he kept his forehead pressed to the door.

Was I dreaming? Was all this some kind of hallucination?

I opened the door slowly, despite my frantic heart, not wanting him to fall forward or lose his balance. He did so anyway, probably still drunk from the night before. The waft of alcohol mixed with tobacco and topped off with his aftershave sent me dizzy in one hit.

Presley leaned forward, correcting his footing quickly before he looked up at me through devilish eyes.

“Fuck. Still so quirky beautiful,” he rasped.

“Presley?”

“Hey, Cherry.” He smiled lazily, his body swaying.

My eyes fell to the now infamous leather jacket hanging from his shoulders, and I shuffled nervously on my feet, pulling down on my T-shirt. Presley’s eyes fell to my midriff, slowly creeping down my exposed legs before they trailed back all the way up my body and landed on my boobs. I wasn’t even wearing a bra, and I had one of the hottest, most wanted men on the planet in front of me, looking like he wanted to eat me alive.

My God, he was gorgeous. More so now than ever before, and that was saying something. Experience and life shone back at me through his hazy eyes, leaving my heart to fend for itself as it galloped furiously and begged for me to regain control.

I quickly crossed my arms over my chest.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He swayed again and reached up to grip the doorframe, leaning closer. “Hoping I can come in.”

There was power in those eyes of his—in that self-assured smile, too.

“Okay.” I swallowed and stepped to one side, holding the door open for him.

I suddenly felt like I lived in a mouse hole, and I was trying to house a giant. Everything I’d worked hard for now seemed small and insignificant withthePresley West inside it.

Which, of course, was ridiculous considering the places he’d already been inside of…

Me.

Presley straightened himself upright as he walked forwards and took a good look around. It must have taken him all of 4.2 seconds to register everything I classed as my worldly possessions. The door banged shut behind us both, and I went to stand in front of the purple sofa I owned, defending my small space while watching him as he took it all in.

Folding my arms over my chest again to cover my obviously-aroused nipples, I tilted my head to one side and waited for him. My hair was a straggly, wavy mess. My green eyes still had last night’s mascara framing them with charcoal smudges. My lips were dry, and I hoped he couldn’t see the rapid flicker of my kneecaps as my nerves got the better of me.

“Nice place.” He whistled, nodding his head and tucking his hair behind both ears.

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