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“Pay attention to what’s going on around you, and trust your gut. Always.”
“What else?”
“Surround yourself with people who are willing to kill for you, who are willing to die for you…”
His voice trails off as he swirls the bourbon in his glass, watching me intently.
“Can I count on you, Beast?”
“I’m Carter’s second in command.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“He hired me to look out for you, so that’s what I do.”
“But being paid to look out for someone, and doing it because you care about them are two very different things. Which side do you fall on, Beast?”
“Does it matter? I’ve got your back either way,” he replies.
“It matters to me,” I say, taking Beast’s glass from him and resting it on the coffee table alongside mine. “You said I need to pay attention. I already do. I see how you look at me.”
“Princess, listen,” Beast begins, but I take his hands in mine. He tenses, but he doesn’t pull away.
“No,youlisten. I pay attention. You were going to stab the King tonight because you were angry at the way he was eye-fucking me. You brought me here because you didn’t want me to get blind drunk and spend the evening with Hudson. Youcare. Why?”
“It’s my job to care.”
“No, it’s more than that and you know it.”
“Princess, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again,nothingwill happen between us. Understand?”
“No?” I ask, dropping his hands and reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, ripping it over my head. Cool air rushes over my skin and my nipples pucker under his attention as my hair falls over my shoulders, brushing against the tops of my breasts.
“Princess, what the fuck?!” he exclaims, his gaze lifting from my bare breasts as he glares at me. “Put the fucking t-shirt back on.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t be that man.”
“What man?”
“The one who takes advantage. Now put the t-shirt back on.”
“No,” I shake my head, my fingers curling into the material of his t-shirt that I’m still holding. “You want to touch me, just like I want to touch you. I’m eighteen in a few weeks. I’m an adult.”
“The fact you even need to say that tells me you’re not. Stop fucking around,” he warns, licking his lips as he resolutely keeps his gaze fixed firmly on my face.
“Earlier you said I was theperfect vision of beauty and badasserywhich, by the way, was pretty fucking poetic.”
“I was trying to make you feel better. Christ, what the fuck is this?”
“Touch me,” I whisper, shifting closer, dropping the t-shirt and resting my hands on his knees.
When he doesn’t shove me away, I decide to just go for it and clamber onto his lap. With my knees pressing either side of his hips, I grip his shoulders, looking down at him.
“Princess, this is what playing with fire feels like.”
“I don’t care. Make me burn.”
