Page 31 of Beautiful Beast

Me in my current state.

And, damn, it feels really good.

“You couldn’t handle me, princess.”

It’s a true statement. She’s young, naïve, and – I’m guessing – inexperienced.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I sure as hell want her to try.

Chapter 8

Belle

Blood-redrosesarethefirst things I notice when I walk into Adam’s apartment.

Either they weren’t there yesterday, or I was in such a state of shock that he actually let me into his place that I was unable to fully absorb what was right in front of me.

Probably the latter.

I mean, he finally showed me his face and let me into his apartment. Amazingly, I didn’t faint.

“You don’t strike me as a rose guy,” I note.

He tenses, and it appears that I’ve found another sore spot. Or it could be that he isn’t used to having someone else in his space commenting on the surroundings, especially post-injury.

But at least he didn’t resist my presence today. He just opened the door and stepped aside to let me and Buster inside without a word.

“What kind of guy do I strike you as then?”

I pucker my lips while I think about it, slowly walking around the room so I can take everything in this time.

“My vote is for tiger lilies. They’re orange and all manly and shit.”

“Roses are… important to me.”

“Do you always speak in such eloquent sentences?”

“Especially around librarians.”

Adam’s place is open concept, which only serves to make it appear more spacious. I’m tempted to yell and see if it echoes, but the man already thinks I’m weird enough.

It’s easy to figure out where the kitchen is, so I head that way and dump all the bags I’m carrying on the gigantic island that’s as big as my old apartment.

“What are you making?” Adam asks.

“Chicken quesadillas with Cesar salad.”

“Sounds awesome. I love food that I don’t have to cook.”

“Is that why you decided to let me come in?”

He chuckles. “You’re relentless. I figured it was easier on everyone if I just surrendered.”

“Smart man.”

He keeps his left side averted so the scar isn’t in view. It isn’t as bad as he seems to think it is, and certainly no reason to hide away in a penthouse raging at nice neighbors who stop by to introduce themselves.

The scar is still red, angry, and fresh-looking, but it will heal in time. And I’m sure living in a pad like this one means he can afford the best plastic surgeons in the world. But until then, he can’t just stop living.

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