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He’s a dream. An absolute dream, I think as we pull up in front of the bar. Soon, I’m going to wake up and find I’m still sleeping in a filthy riverbed, and this whole thing was a product of my poor, delirious mind.
I expect Beau to roar off again, but he shuts off the engine and strolls inside the bar with me. He looks around, takes a seat in the farthest corner. “I’m just gonna work here for a while,” he says. “You won’t even know I’m here.”
Not true.
All night long, Beau’s presence blazes through me like wildfire. My eyes keep drifting to his ruggedly handsome face. Every nerve in my body cries out for him. I long to feel the sexy scrape of his beard against my skin. His firm, plush lips crashing against my own. Those big, callused hands wrapping around my body. Possessing me.
Now I understand what he means when he says his wolf is a difficult one—he’s warning me not to fall in love with him.
But it’s too late.
I’ve already given him my heart.
* * *
Two more dayspass like this.
Beau takes a copy of my roster and Meredith’s, and he watches me when she’s not around. She grumbles, but I think she’s secretly glad he’s there. A free security service.
Because there are a lot of shady characters on these streets, shuffling in, looking for people who don’t want to be found. But one look at Beau, and they never come back again.
He’s leaving his scent all around town.
Letting everyone know he’s with me.
“He’s a real possessive one, that man of yours,” Meredith comments. Her elbows are propped up on the bar, eyes lingering on Beau’s broad shoulders and tight buns as he leaves to run an errand.
“He’s not mine,” I say.
She slides me a sideways look. “Not from where I’m standing, hun.” She sighs luxuriously. “I’d kill for a guy like that.”
So would I.Because he’s not mine.
After work,Beau brings me home and we have dinner, watching the sun go down or staring up at the stars. And we talk. He asks me everything about my life before him, my dreams for the future. I didn’t even know I had dreams until he teased them out. I told him how I liked to make little handicrafts and sell them at the local market. When I told him how much I was selling them for, he shook his head in disbelief and pulled out his laptop. Turns out there are Internet sites where you can sell them for five times the price.
“You make ’em, I’ll get them sold for you,” he says.
He encourages and probes me until I admit I always wanted to make clothes, and he says he’ll get me a sewing machine and all the things I need to go with it. I can take a course to learn the techniques.
It’s pure bliss here—just him, me and our little bus. And all these dreams I never dared entertain before.
Except he hasn’t so much as kissed me since that first night. He barely even touches me.
And it’s driving me insane.
My panties are soaking wet, all the time. My nipples ache, hell, my clit throbs. I feel like a cat on heat. Hungry for him, and only him.
And the worst part is, I know he feels the same. I catch the yearning in those fierce blue eyes when I come down the steps in the morning; see his cock swelling beneath his zipper.
But he pushes it away.
Ever since that first night, he’s insisted on sleeping outside. And sometimes I hear his wolf prowling around. Feral, anguished.
Suffering.
How long before this gets too much for Beau and he leaves me?
My wolf howls at the thought.
I think she’d curl up and die if he left me.
