Page 36 of Beautiful Beast

Now that doesn’t sound like a half-bad idea.

Assuming that I know where his head is at, I take a few tentative steps toward him. When I’m close enough, I stand on tiptoes and gently kiss his scar.

His eyes close, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I don’t care about it,” I whisper.

“It’s not just the scar, Belle. My face isn’t the only thing that broke in Syria.”

Chapter 9

Adam

SendingBellehomelastnight left a pit of unease in my stomach. Leaving a beautiful woman wanting my dick is most definitely not my standard MO.

But it’s not just my dick she wants, and that’s the problem.

After spending the day with Uncle Dennis, all I can think about is going downstairs to her apartment and apologizing.

She’s pushing through my defenses quicker than I imagined possible, and I’m not ready to be vulnerable. There’s no way I can date the girl, but I also don’t have to be an asshole or continue to lead her on.

Her lips were completely intoxicating, and I doubt I’ll be able to stop thinking about kissing her for a long time.

But it would be selfish to take her, to ruin her, and there are so many reasons why being together is a terrible idea.

We can be neighbors and nothing more.

So, what I need to do is apologize, tell her not to come to visit me anymore, and continue the plan of hiding away in my apartment until I can claim my life back.

Even though leaving the house for any reason is the exact opposite of what I want to do, at least no one should be roaming the private hallways.

I don’t bother to grab a hoodie or tie a bandana over my face – she’s already seen everything anyway – before heading into the elevator that will take me to the lobby. As soon as the doors open, I sidestep out and immediately enter the one leading to Annie’s place.

Despite getting to Belle’s place seemingly undetected, my heart still jackhammers in my chest and my organs are locked in a vice grip. My breathing is ragged and painful, and I can’t help but glance over my shoulder just to be sure that no one saw me.

When Belle opens the door with Buster at her side, her eyes widen and her mouth drops comically open.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she squeaks.

Apparently, the princess likes showing up uninvited at people’s doorsteps but doesn’t like the same treatment back.

“I came to talk to you.”

“I’m dressed like a bum! You didn’t even call or text me first!”

If dressed like a bum means looking like a dream, then I’d agree. She’s wearing yoga pants and a white tank top, her ample cleavage spilling out and the curves of her ass fueling my spank bank.

My resolve of saying goodbye to her permanently is already snapping.

“I don’t have your number,” I say, even though all I’m thinking about are her breasts.

“Okay.” She steps aside to let me come in and grabs her phone from the side table. “Program yours in here, and then I’ll text you so you have mine, too.”

“Not a chance, princess. Why would I give you another means to annoy me?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll just keep showing up then.”

Scowling and pretending to be annoyed, I comply with her request. “Don’t post it on TikTok or anything.”

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