Beau
“Quit looking at me like that, Beau.”
I arched a brow. “And how should I be looking at the man who kidnapped me from a bar just because I didn’t bow down to kiss his feet?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a slick mouth?” He looked over at me for a moment, smiling. Man was enjoying this way too much. “That someday it just might get you in trouble?”
“Never,” I deadpanned, and he chuckled, the action making him seem less formal.
“Find that hard to believe, nymph. You - ”
“Why do you continue to call me that? My name’s Beau. Use it, please.” To deal with him, I had to continue to have my wits about me.
There was no denying the fact that around him, I lost common sense.
No advertising the blast of ardor he evoked in me.
It’d be so easy to say yes. To take his offer and let him lead me down a path that would only end in pain. My pain.
For a second, he was caught off guard by my question. Stiffened in his seat, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.