“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t be walking out here alone,” he said, his voice low, gravelly. “Haven’t you heard there’s a psycho on the loose?”
The words hit her like a shiver. Images of the murdered women flashed through her mind: the news reports, the locks she’d installed afterward.
“I know, so why are you sneaking up on me like that? What kind of sick joke is that supposed to be?”
“Hey, calm down. I wasn’t trying to scare you.” He stepped closer, the scent of crisp air and cedar curling around her. “I just wanted to make sure you got to your car safe.”
“Who made you my body guard?”
He didn’t answer but moved closer still, his heat cutting though the cold.
“Maybe I just worry about you.”
“You shouldn’t. You don’t even know me.”
“Maybe I want to.” His voice softened, but it still had that edge—rough, intimate, dangerous. His gaze dropped to her mouth then back to her eyes. “You keep pretending you don’t feel this,”—he waved his hand from her to him—“but I see it every time you look at me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He chuckled under his breath, then came closer, his arm wrapping around her waist. His lips brushed over hers, barely a touch.
She tipped her head back. “And another thing, you shouldn’t have paid my tab. I can pay my own damn bills.”
“I know that.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to. It’s no big deal.”
“I bet. There’s always strings attached with men like you.”
He pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Fuck, babe. Who burned you so bad you can’t tell the difference between a favor and owing someone?”
“Let me go, Rags. I want to go home.”
But he didn’t move. His jaw flexed; the air between them pulsed. Then he kissed her hard and hungry, nothing unhurried or soft about it. The taste of him was whiskey and heat, rough and consuming. Her body betrayed her, leaning in when every rational thought screamed to pull away. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back fervently, his heartbeat thudding against hers.
Then reason clawed its way through the haze. She tore her mouth from his, breathing hard, cold air burning her lungs.
“Baby, you’re on fire. Let’s go somewhere more private,” he rasped, peppering the side of her neck with soft nips.
The chill pressed in, sharp and cold, and with it came clarity, a reminder of the line she couldn’t cross. Her body hummed, reckless and wanting, every nerve alive with him. She could still taste him, feel the heat rolling off his body. For a heartbeat, she wanted to let it happen, to lose herself in him and deal with the consequences later.
But reason sliced through the fog. She shoved him gently but firmly, stepping back as the cold nipped her cheeks.
“I… I can’t,” she whispered, turning toward the open car door.
He caught her arm and leaned into her, the hard line of his body pressing against hers.
“Don’t do this,” he whispered against her ear, his breath hot and uneven.
Her pulse throbbed in her throat. For a split second she almost gave in again, then the image of her ex—his hands on another woman, the humiliation, the sharp burn of it—flashed behind her eyes, cutting through the heat pulsing low in her belly.
She drew a ragged breath and shoved him back, the cold biting into her as she stepped away. “I have to go now,” she muttered.
“Come on, baby. You know we both want this… need this.”
Her heart kicked hard. For a moment she almost melted into him again—almost—but the flash of betrayal still burned at the edges of her thoughts.
She shook her head, her voice unsteady. “I have to go. Thanks for the drinks.”
He stared at her, chest rising and falling, eyes darkening. “You’re gonna leave me like this? Fuck, that’s cruel.”