Page 20 of Beast

“We’ll go slow.” I took her hand and guided her back to the house. Next time I’d bring a damn flashlight and leave the lights on.

“Watch your step,” I cautioned.

She made a noise of protest but kept her hand in mine, and I resisted the temptation to pull her in my arms and kiss her. It would be so easy to lay her down on the sand, make love to her under the moonlight and stars. My dick hardened and I debated ripping her clothes off right here. But I had to keep her at arm’s length. She was my job... nothing more.

We were a few feet from the house when her foot caught in a divot and she tripped. I grabbed her, keeping her from falling.

Her breath stuttered and her nails dug into my shoulders. All I had to do was lean forward an inch and I’d crush my lips over hers. Claim her. Make her moan my name and ruin her for any other man.

I was a fucking bastard because I fought the urge to give in to my passion. To do whatever I wanted with her and fuck the consequences.

“You okay?” I asked, knowing she wanted me too. The scent of her arousal tempted me, but I also knew my breaking the spell would piss her off more. So I set her on her feet. She was a job, and I needed to keep my head on straight.

“Yeah, fine. Thanks.” She pushed off me and headed inside.

I clenched my fists, counting to fifty. All of me wanted to take her right here and now.

My blood pumped hot and hard through my body. I needed her. Badly. More than just someone to fuck. I wanted her because she evaded me. I hated not being in control. But she had me off balance.

Instead of going inside the house, I spun around and headed back to the beach, taking off my clothes as I did. I needed to run. To clear my mind. To get my thoughts off her.

When I was far enough from the house that I was certain she couldn’t see me, I shifted into my wolf and raced across the sand.

She had been right when I first brought her here. I was a bastard and I needed to remind myself that I had a job to do.

8

NATALIA

Iate too much that I ended up going to the bathroom at least four times during the night, or maybe it was that Tomas’s and my conversation on the beach last night had affected me more than I wanted to admit. I woke up with a stomach ache and was in dire need of a shower. I didn’t remember how I ended up in bed, nor did I care if I was wearing my nightshirt. And I was pretty sure of one thing—I wasn’t the one who changed my clothes.

After I headed to the bathroom, I looked around, and as far as I could tell, I was alone. He wasn’t here, and I should be grateful, or at least worry-free, about him not seeing me in my nightshirt.

It was silly because he was the one who changed my clothes. The idea of a man seeing me naked made me feel self-conscious about my body. All the flaws, which I assumed were part of growing up, were observed by another. It was weird and exciting at the same time.

As I entered the bathroom, I locked the door. And then didn’t hesitate in getting the shower running. Once the hot water came on and the steam filled up the room, I hopped in. A habit from living in Russia. The house wasn’t cold, but I was used to alwaysmaking sure that the shower heated as much as possible. I tilted my head back as the water ran over me. It felt like heaven as it tickled my body and memories of the night entered my mind.

As soon as he left the house for his jog, I tried to eat as much of the ice cream and brownie as possible, and I had more red wine. I'd just finished the last glass when he came in from his jog or wherever he'd been doing outside.

I staggered to the sofa, where he caught me in his arms. Then he held on to me and helped me to my room.

Yes, I made a fool of myself, and if anyone was there that I knew, I would be embarrassed. But no one was there. It was just him and me. I shouldn’t even be thinking that way when I was here against my will.

Something I had to keep reminding myself.

I turned off the water and hopped out of the shower. I dried myself, then I wrapped a towel around my body. With my hair damp and forgetting to bring my clothes into the shower, I opened the door abruptly.

Boredom.

That’s what I was feeling right now. That’s what happened when I was up and found myself having nothing to do, which was why I preferred to be sleeping or, even better, eating.

I never understood the term “comfort eating” until now. I left the bathroom, turned the corner, and slammed right into him.

“Oww!” I cried out because the force of his body against mine not only hurt me but my towel fell, leaving me naked in front of him.

He looked at me with hungry eyes that froze me in place and heated me all at the same time.

He wanted me. Craved me. As much as I did him. Not to pass the time, but he baked the brownie and made me a special meal. I wasn’t an expert on kidnapping, but it was clear he was attracted to me.

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