In Bed with the Beast (Naughty Princess Club 2)

“I can’t believe you just did that,” I mutter.

“You’re welcome.”

“I wasn’t thanking you! You can’t just show up here like this when I’m on a date! Especially after the way you behaved tonight. You are such a jerk!”

I shoulder past him, making my way through the crowd of people until I finally get outside, pausing on the sidewalk to close my eyes and take a few, much-needed deep breaths of fresh air.

“I’m sorry.”

My eyes fly open when I hear Vincent speak behind me, so quietly that I barely hear him, but I refuse to turn around. I hear his footsteps thump against the concrete and a few seconds later, feel the heat from his body as he stands right behind me. My own stupid, traitorous body shivers. When he’s standing so close I can smell his soap and feel his warm breath against the top of my head.

“You drive me crazy,” he mutters.

Holding my breath, I remain perfectly still, waiting for him to say more.

“I never expected someone like you, and it’s . . . fuck!” he curses.

I can hear him slide his hand through his hair, and I slowly turn around to face him.

“It’s what?” I whisper, looking up at him.

“It’s confusing. I don’t trust people very easily. I know you aren’t a liar. I never should have said that to you,” he admits quietly.

“I shouldn’t have broken one of your rules. I’m so sorry, Vincent,” I tell him softly, not breaking eye contact so he can see how truly sorry I am.

He lets out a deep sigh, reaching a hand up between us and tucking a strand of hair that fell out of my messy bun behind one of my ears. His fingertips gently slide down over my cheek and then he shoves both of his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

“Maybe some rules are meant to be broken. Come home.”

The way he says the word home makes my heart stutter in my chest. I should tell him I’m finished taking orders from him, but at least he apologized. I never thought I’d ever hear those two words out of his mouth. I know a sane woman would probably be scared to death of this man and his hair-trigger temper, but I’m clearly not sane when it comes to Vincent Adams. And even though I haven’t known him for very long, I do know he would never hurt me. Not physically, at least. My heart is a whole other matter.

“Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”

The corner of his mouth twitches and he pulls one of his hands out of his pocket, holding it out for me to take. I slide my small hand into his large warm one, and he laces his fingers through mine, pulling me down the sidewalk to his truck parked against the curb.

Chapter 19: This is Me Refusing to Share

It’s been three days since Vincent’s outburst and him “saving me” from my date with Dusty. Once again, we’re like two ships passing in the night, except the ships are listing to the side with holes in them, taking on water and everyone is drowning.

Okay, maybe I’m being a bit dramatic, but to say things have been awkward and strained between us is putting it mildly. He’s been overly polite with me during the few minutes each day we see each other, which I’m quickly realizing I don’t like one bit. I’ve actually grown to kind of like his surly, overbearing nature. And ever since our quiet, uncomfortable ride home from the bar that night, the door to the library has remained unlocked and wide open. Yet, I can’t bring myself to walk in there no matter how much that room screams to me to come inside, curl up by the fire, and read a book.

It feels like an invasion of privacy now. There’s something about that room he feels very strongly about, and even though he’s clearly left it open for me, I just can’t do it. Not until he tells me why. Not until I can understand what it is about this room that pushed him over the edge when I went in without his permission.

On top of all of this confusion, I don’t even know where we stand on the whole teaching me how to be sexy and flirty thing. Does he still want to do it? Do I still want him to teach me how to do it? Does coming after me, apologizing, and being sweet mean he really does like me, regardless of what he said? And do I still like him and want to see if anything more could develop between us?

“You can go in there, you know.”

I jump when I hear Vincent’s low voice behind me, whirling around guiltily to find him standing behind me right outside the library, his hair damp from his recent shower, wearing his usual pair of well-worn jeans, black motorcycle boots and a T-shirt that fits him like a glove. Since it’s early morning, I thought for sure he’d be sleeping the day away after working so late last night, but I guess not. The scent of Irish Spring overwhelms me, and I have to squeeze my hands into fists and lock my knees together to stop myself from taking a step forward to smell him.