Page 7 of Taken Away

Aubrey didn’t have to turn around. That low, gravelly voice was already etched into her brain. She turned, finding Bennett leaning back against a heavy timber post. The fire from the stone pit threw long, dancing shadows across his face, catching on the hard line of his mouth and a slow, infuriating curve of his lips. He looked like trouble wrapped in flannel and three days of dark stubble.

“What are you smiling about?” she challenged, her voice a little breathier than she intended.

“I’m smiling at you,” he said simply.

“Oh, really? Why?”

“I find people like you amusing.”

Aubrey’s blood boiled. “People like me? What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

She pushed away from the railing, intending to poke a finger into that broad, flannel-covered chest, but the wooden slats of the patio had other plans. Her heel caught on a groove, and the world tilted.

Before she hit the boards, Bennett was there. He moved with startling, predatory speed, his hands snapping out to catch her shoulders. She slammed into him, her chest hitting his with enough force to knock the air from her lungs. He didn’t let go, keeping her pinned against the solid heat of his frame.

“Careful,” he muttered, his breath warm against her temple. “You may have had a couple too many of your perfect margaritas.”

Aubrey’s pride flared, even as her heart hammered against her ribs. “Oh yeah? Well, I can tell you need a couple more bourbons too. Maybe then you’d be less of a⁠—“

Bennett raised an eyebrow.

“Less of a what?”

Aubrey folded her arms.

"An arrogant ass who thinks he’s the only one with a valid opinion in a fifty-mile radius."

Bennett studied her for a long second.

“Yeah, well,” he cut in, his voice dropping into a dark, quiet register. "Hell, you need to be kissed."

Aubrey went still. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She swallowed, heat and outrage tangling in her chest. “Oh? And why is that?”

His gaze swept over her face, lingering on her mouth before coming back to her eyes. “Because you’re wound so tight you’re about to snap,” he said softly. “Because you need to be in control of every conversation, every drink, every damn detail.”

Her breath caught. She’d been holding herself together for days, and he was the only solid thing in reach.

“And I suppose,” she managed, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and something far more dangerous, “you think you’re the man for the job too, huh?”

Bennett leaned in, close enough that she could see the gold flecks in his tired eyes, close enough that the heat radiated off him.

“No,” he murmured. “I don’t think it.”

His mouth curved, slow and sure.

“I know I am.”

Aubrey meant to say something biting. She meant to push him away. But her defiance melted into a hazy, shimmering heat.

Bennett didn’t give her a second to change her mind.

He claimed her mouth—hard, demanding, tasting of smoke and bourbon. He pulled her flush against him, all heat and corded muscle.

Aubrey went liquid in his arms, her hands tangling in the front of his shirt to stay upright. He pulled back for briefly, taking in the dazed look in her eyes, and then he went back in. This time it was softer, a slow, deep exploration that made her head spin.