Her Beast

He moved toward her, staring into her eyes. “You’re eighteen.”

“I know.”

“I have to keep remembering that.”

She tilted her head to the side, watching him. He didn’t look away from her. The warmth seemed to radiate off him, and if she could, all it would take was putting her hand against his chest.

He’s older.

Much older.

She didn’t care.

There was something about Beast Carson that had her thinking about him at really inappropriate times. One of those being when she was standing in the shower, water dripping down her body, and she imagined him there with her, holding her, touching her.

She took a deep breath, knowing she had to get out of there. None of the guys at school had ever made her feel this way. Beast looked at her as if he really saw her.

He’s an uncle.

Still, as she tried to think of all the reasons she should probably be grossed out, nothing came to mind. He was older, but again, she didn’t care.

She didn’t want to think about what his words meant. “Dwayne is doing really well with his studies. I think a few more lessons and he’ll have cracked algebra. Yay!” She did a little fist pump, and saw his lips quirk a little as if he was suppressing a smile. “You can smile. It’s good. Your nephew is doing great.”

“That’s good to know. Why don’t you make new memories?”

She paused, hoping he’d forgotten about their little conversation. “Memories are hard to make. I miss my mom.”

“Find someone to make new memories with.”

She chuckled. “You make it sound so easy. Like it’s not difficult to find someone to share your life with.”

“Everyone has a price.”

“I’m not going to force someone to share memories with me.” A gust of wind rushed over her, pushing her hair onto her face. She went to move it out of the way. Beast’s touch stopped her. He pushed her hair off her face, and she couldn’t move, not that she wanted to. Staring up into his eyes, she was struck once again.

She loved that shade of blue more than anything in the world.

You’ve got a crush.

Yeah, just to add to another of her freakish tendencies, she had a crush on a guy’s uncle.

“Why are you walking home?” he asked, holding her hair to her face.

His touch felt so good, his hands warm against her skin.

Licking her lips once again, which she couldn’t seem to stop doing, she shrugged. “I, erm, I always walk home.”

“I’ve told you before these streets are dangerous.”

“It’s late, Beast. I’ve got to be getting home.”

His jaw twitched. Was she pissing him off? She didn’t mean to. Was he worried about her? He’d be the first guy who worried about her in a long time.

“You’re not walking home. Come on.”

He released her hair, and she missed his touch, wanting him to hold her again, or at least touch her.

Get a grip, Hope. Nothing is happening here.

It’s all in your pathetic imagination.

He opened the door, and she climbed inside.

Beast leaned in, securing her seatbelt in place and pulling back. “You need to start learning to take care of yourself.”

He was so close, his breath fanning across her face.

Sitting back, she closed her eyes, waiting for him to get in the car. She had to get a grip. This wasn’t good for her at all.

Opening her eyes, she stared out as he climbed in.

“You know, everyone is afraid of you,” she said.

He started the car, and she chanced a look at him, seeing the smile on his face. “Fear can be a great motivator.”

“It can also cause a lot of people a lot of pain.”

“I’m not here to hold anyone’s hand,” he said.

“Are the rumors true about you?” she asked.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Did she want to know the truth? Was she ready to go down that road?

No, she didn’t want to know. For once she wanted her little bubble to remain intact, and that was exactly how she was going to leave it.

****

Beast should have left. He shouldn’t have gone to see her, or stayed behind to wait, knowing she didn’t have a ride.

With Dwayne having his little pool party, the house was off-limits, every single door and window locked. Beast didn’t mind his nephew using the pool house, but he wouldn’t allow any little shits into his home. They weren’t invited.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hope twisting her fingers together, and he wondered what she was thinking about. He liked the way she looked at him. The haunted look in her eyes, the way she held herself, in her mind and body she was a lot older than her eighteen years.

“Have you ever been back to your old house?” he asked.

She tensed up. She shoved her hands between her thighs, pressing them together. He turned on the heat, not wanting her to be cold.