He dipped down faster than I could process it, his lips brushing mine. Chills zapped and energy flashed and a rush of dizziness swept through my head.
“It would be a very, very bad thing.”
He edged back, and I could feel the space between us simmering with something mysterious.
“I’m not scared of you,” I murmured, wondering just who it was that I was tryin’ to convince.
“You should be.”
A frown pulled at my brow. “You just saved me. Stepped in and stood up for me.”
“I touch you, and you won’t ever forget it. I’ll wreck you, beautiful. Looks to me like your heart is banged up enough.”
“I’m not broken,” I whispered in a rush.
“Are you looking to be?”
“I . . . I . . .” All I could do was blink at him, trying to make sense of this. Of this attraction.
Because he felt like instinct.
I believed in love at first sight. With all of me.
But this wasn’t close to being it.
This was fascination. This was climbing a mountainside with the sole purpose of diving off a cliff. Risking everything to experience a free fall.
“I don’t think my coming here was a mistake.”
His voice lowered. “Watch yourself because those are the only kind of choices that I seem to make.”
I peered at him in an attempt to see through the veil of words he kept tossing at me. “I don’t understand.”
He angled his head, that black hair falling to one side, his gaze so severe my heart rate spiked. “That’s because you’re too good to see what’s staring back at you.”
“Or maybe it’s you who sees himself all wrong.”
A roll of coarse, dry laughter escaped him. “Precious girl.”
He said it like an insult dipped in affection.
God, this man was too much. Too forward and too compelling, and I was contemplating all kinds of things that I didn’t do. Maybe he was right. This was a very bad idea.
“I should go,” I told him.
“Yeah, you should.”
I started to fumble for my credit card in the zipper pocket of my dress, thanking all the stars I sang to that I actually had one along with my hotel key. The last thing I wanted was to have to go crawling back to my brother.
The stranger set a tattooed hand on my wrist.
My attention dragged down to where we were connected. The muscles of his forearm were twitching, the skin covered in shadowy ink that looked like some kind of ripped-up, intricate treasure map interwoven with landscape and faces. It shifted into the portrait of a king on the back of his hand, the image surrounded by roses, fading into the pawns stamped on his knuckles.
The entire scene screamed power and still somehow felt incredibly sad.
I suddenly had the devastating need to climb inside of this man. To touch him and feel him and know him.
He was right. I was a reckless, careless girl.
“I’ve got this,” he grated.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
He looked at me with something in his expression that I couldn’t quite make out. “It’s the least I can do.”
He handed the bartender his card, and I was whispering a wispy, “Thank you. I’m Emily, by the way.”
A twitch of something that looked like disgust pulled at one side of his mouth. “Royce.”
He said it like his name was an issue of condemnation, the man staring me down for a beat, as if he were waiting for something, for a fallout maybe, before he turned to the slip the bartender handed him and signed it.
He returned the card to his wallet and tucked it into the back pocket of his pants.
Unable to remain under the potency of him for a second longer, I fumbled to stand, swaying a bit when I got to my feet.
His hand shot out to steady me. “Watch yourself, Precious.”
A shiver raced over my arms. “I’m fine . . . I’m just . . . going to use the restroom. It was nice to meet you,” I managed, taking two steps as if I possessed an ounce of calm, and then for the second time tonight, I rushed through a crowd to get away.
Though this time it was because I wanted to stay.
Because I wanted to experience those dark waters washing over me.
I shouldered through the crush, fighting the sting of tears.
God, I really was pathetic. But I couldn’t help it. The only thing I wanted was for someone to see me for me. All I needed was one second of truth. A taste of freedom. To be loosed of these chains.
Maybe then I would be willing to give it all away. Stand up and be brave.
Forget and remember.
Accept all the possibilities and reject what had been haunting me.
A surge of power rustled over me from behind, and I sucked in a staggered breath when I realized he was there, right behind me, following me through the crowd. My pulse raced in anticipation, though I increased my pace.