Blood Type (Blood Type 1)

She stared up into his drawn face, wanting so much for him to understand. But he didn’t. He had said that he wanted this to stop. She was attracted to him of course. It was pure physical lust for a man who didn’t even want to touch her. Yet she couldn’t shake the memory of his hands and lips and body.

“Feeling what?” he prompted, stepping closer to her.

The temperature spiked in the room with him so near. She knew she needed to step away from him…but they were like two magnets.

She reached out, took his hand in her own, and then placed it over her heart. “Feeling this.” Her heart thrummed under his fingertips.

“And how is that?” he asked, his voice strained. His free arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her closer. Her breathing stopped as he held her with his hand still pressed against her heart, which was now beating furiously. She swallowed hard and wet her lips.

“Torn. I want to kiss you,” she confided, “but I don’t want to end up in some ridiculous love triangle.”

“I cannot give you what you want, Reyna.”

“Which part?”

Then his lips were on hers again and the rest of the world slipped away. Her mind grew fuzzy. Their previous arguments disappeared. Even the thought of Penelope dissolved at the feel of Beckham’s lips.

It was as if she were sinking into the ocean and never had to come up for breath. She was drowning in him. Lost in the eternity sea.

They stumbled backward until her knees connected with a chaise. Beckham’s body immediately covered hers. His hand rode up the slit of her dress and bunched the material around her hips. She groaned into his mouth, only urging him on further.

There was a fever to their movements. She had thought about this moment ever since he had first kissed her. Wanted a repeat of that night. Wanted to feel his rough hands on her skin. Now that she was, she kissed him back with a ferocity she hardly knew existed within her.

“Beckham!”

They both heard his name called, and a wall of ice soaked through their skin. Beckham jumped back from Reyna. A look of horror crossed his features for a second and then was immediately replaced with his cool outward appearance. By looking at him, she would have never guessed he had just been furiously making out with her.

She wasn’t sure she could say the same about herself. She was human after all. Slower to stand and attempt to adjust her dress. Her lips were swollen, her skin flushed, and her hair slightly tangled.

“Yes,” Beckham called back. “Just a moment.”

Penelope walked in through the double doors a second later. She took in Reyna’s disheveled appearance and Beckham’s apparent nonchalance.

“Harrington wishes to speak with you. I wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

“Fine, Penny.”

“Right,” she murmured and then retreated.

Reyna’s hand flew to her mouth. She couldn’t believe what had just happened…that she had instigated it. She didn’t know what was going on between Beckham and Penelope, but surely it wasn’t right for Reyna and him to do this. She wished she had some answers from Beckham rather than this hot and cold.

“I have to go speak with my boss,” Beckham said curtly.

“So that’s it? You said you’d never kiss me again…and now you have.”

“A mistake,” he said callously. “Your emotions run high, and they send my…baser instincts into overdrive.”

“It couldn’t just be that you’re a man desiring a woman?”

“No. It is an animal enjoying the hunt. The monster within struggling to get out. Nothing more.”

Reyna shook her head and started toward the door. She didn’t have to stay and listen to this. When she reached it, she looked at him one last time.

“How boring your life must be to have no one fill you with passion and make your emotions run high. I’ll take my chances with the monster over complacency.”

Chapter 20

“What are you doing out there?” she mused aloud to herself. Reyna tapped her foot impatiently.

She had been waiting in her bedroom all afternoon for Beckham to leave the apartment. He should have already gone to work or done something. It wasn’t like him to adjust his perfect schedule, but he hadn’t left. She could still hear him moving around and she hadn’t heard the elevator.

After she had walked out of the lounge last night, Beckham had caught up with her and ordered her back to the car. She had waited thirty long minutes for him to finally show up. The drive home was tense and uncomfortable. She hadn’t wanted to talk to him any further about what happened, and he clearly felt the same way. As soon as they had made it back, she had stormed into her room and hadn’t left since.

The last thing she wanted to do was run into him in the living room and make some meaningless small talk. She wasn’t going to be the first to break that was for sure.