Page 35 of Beautiful Beast

“You literally have no mirrors,” I accuse.

“There isn’t anything I want to see.”

His statement makes my throat burn because he clearly has no idea what others see when looking at him. A scar can’t take away from all his absolutely gorgeous perfection.

But there will be no convincing him, at least not tonight.

“How am I supposed to do my make-up?” I demand.

“You don’t need any make-up,” Adam returns. “You look fine, trust me.”

“Just fine?”

Adam is the only man I’ve ever come across who is completely immune to me. Beauty is something I always get noticed for, but he could care less.

I always say that I wish guys just wanted to talk to me instead of being too busy staring at my breasts or commenting on how apparently hot and sexy I am.

But now that I’m experiencing indifference, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

I definitely need a combination of appreciation and chatter.

“Don’t tempt me, princess.”

He’s staring into his wine glass, not even looking anywhere close to my direction to confirm how “fine” I look.

And it’s goddamn infuriating.

Normally, I don’t even have to make an effort and men fall at my feet. It’s not me being a bitch or conceited, it’s just what has always happened ever since I was a little kid.

Too little for men to take notice of me, and yet they did.

It’s made me shield my face and body in a desperate attempt at self-preservation, and I’m still working through the ripple effects.

“Can you even be tempted, Adam?” His head jerks up when I say his name, and his hooded gaze locks on mine. “I was starting to think you were made of stone.”

He sets the wine glass down with a loud clunk that I’m surprised doesn’t shatter, and closes the distance between us so quickly that I can’t even process what’s about to happen.

All I know is that my heart is racing in my throat, and I might have just woken the beast.

One of his big hands grabs the back of my head, his fist roughly twisting in my hair. The other drops to my ass and pulls me against him while he walks into me, pushing me backward until my back roughly hits the wall.

His hips grind into me when his mouth takes mine, and I can’t help the desperate and needy moan that escapes. It doesn’t make sense, but I have wanted this moment so badly.

He pulls my hair back to further tilt my head, leaving me open and vulnerable to the onslaught of his mouth. There’s something totally hot about giving up control, so I submit to it, clenching his shirt as an anchor.

His free hand takes full liberty and roams my body, touching and squeezing everything that interests him – my breasts, my ass, the column of my throat.

The hard as stone ridge pressing between my legs lets me know that he’s just as into it as I am, and all I want to do is climb this man like a tree and let him do whatever he wants to me.

When he pulls back, we’re both panting. If he took me to his bedroom right now, right this minute, I wouldn’t object in the slightest.

I’m about to suggest it when he speaks.

“You need to go home now, Belle.”

“What? What are you talking about? We haven’t even…” I’m about to say gotten naked, but decide to go with something more appropriate. “…had dessert.”

His eyes are burning hot embers. “If you don’t leave, the only thing I’m going to be eating is you.”

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