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I roll my eyes. “What are you going to do, make me a cup of cocoa and put me to bed like a good little girl?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” he replies, climbing out of the car and slamming the door behind him. When I don’t follow him he strides around to my side of the car and yanks open the door.
“Out.”
“Just call me a cab. I’ll head over to Macey’s Bar. You don’t need to babysit me anymore. I’ll give Hudson a call when I get there. He’ll keep me company.”
He scowls. “Yeah, not happening.”
“Look, I got this. I’ve had my mini meltdown. I’mfinenow. I just want to blow off some steam,” I say, letting out a light laugh in an attempt to convince both Beast and myself that my dad’s insults and the weirdness this evening hasn’t thrown me through a loop.
“Not tonight you won’t, because you’ll be spending some quality time with me,” Beast says as he leans over and unclips my seatbelt before grasping my elbow and guiding me out of the car.
“Don’t you have better things to do? You really are taking your job responsibilities one step too far,” I say, pulling out of his hold and wrapping my arms around myself.
“Just get inside.”
“No.”
“Do you really want me to sling you over my shoulder? Because I will. You know I will,” he warns, raising his eyebrows. I almost,almosttest his threat, then I remember I’m not wearing any underwear and I really don’t need the added humiliation of anyone else seeing my lady garden tonight. What the fuck was I thinking?
“Fine,” I retort, striding towards the front door so he can’t see how red my cheeks flame.
Beast locks the car then jogs to catch up with me, opening the front door and leading me inside. The communal hallway is blandly decorated with a black and white tiled floor and white walls, he stops briefly to pick up a pile of post resting on the hall table before striding towards the end of the corridor.
“Mine’s the garden flat. You’ll have to excuse the mess. I’m not exactly used to visitors.”
“Really? I thought you were like the Don Giovanni of East London.”
“Don Giovanni, who’s that?” Beast frowns as he opens the door to his place, and ushers me inside.
“You mean you don’t know the story about the world’s greatest lover?” I ask, with a smirk.
“Funny. Just make yourself at home,” he replies, turning on the light switch and illuminating his small but surprisingly tidy flat.
“I thought you said it was a mess,” I say, kicking off my stilettos and groaning as my feet sink into the carpet. It’s a very minimalist space, with a big brown leather couch in the centre of the room and a large wall-mounted TV, a coffee table and a bookshelf filled with books. I wander over to it, passing french doors on the right and a small, but perfectly adequate kitchen on the left.
“Looks like my cleaner came today,” Beast replies from what must be his bedroom. He’s left the door ajar and I can see him shucking off his jacket and shirt, pulling on a t-shirt and hoodie. He’s got his back to me, and I’ve got the perfect view of his broad shoulders and tattooed back. When he reaches down to undo his trousers I drag my gaze away from him and to the bookshelf in front of me, running my fingers over the spines to distract me from the fact that my nipples have hardened and my pussy is doing her best impression of a butterfly’s wings quivering in the sun. Jesus, even my skin feels hot.
“I didn’t know you were a big reader,” I say, pulling out a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover and flipping it open.
“They’re not my books,” Beast says from behind me.
I turn to face him, my mouth drying at the way he studies me. “Who do they belong to then?” I ask as he approaches me with a pair of boxer shorts and t-shirt. He takes the book from me and hands me the clothes. I clutch them to my chest, almost lowering my head to the material so I can breathe in his familiar scent, but manage to stop myself.
“My mum was an avid reader. She loved all of that romantic shit, not like those weird as fuck fairy tales you read,” he replies, running his fingers over the cover before leaning over me and sliding the book back into its spot on the shelf.
“They’re not weird. Well, maybe a bit…” My voice trails off as he looks down at me, his gaze meeting mine. There’s a whole host of pain in his eyes and I want so fucking badly for him to open up to me again.
“Well, it ain’t no Disney shit, that’s for sure.”
“That’s why I like it. Life isn’t like a fairy tale and neither are the books I read.”
“You’re not wrong there, Princess.” He nods, a faraway look in his eyes.
“Do you want to tell me some more about her…?” I ask, my voice trailing off when he lifts his other hand and grips the shelf behind me, trapping me between his body and the bookcase.
“No point in talking about ghosts. It doesn't do anyone any good.”
