Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I turn, coming face to face with the stranger. Up close, his eyes are even more mesmerizing—dark and cavernous. There’s a scar running underneath his right eye that makes me wonder what stories his body could tell. Yes, he’s older than me, but in the sexy mmmm . . . daddy way.
My father would have chased him off with a shotgun if he knew his little Sara was having the kind of dirty thoughts I’m having now.
I raise an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips. It’s a façade, I know it, I just hope he doesn’t. “Buying a lady a drink? How quaint.”
He chuckles, but it doesn’t lighten the darkness and shadows that engulf him. “I assure you, there’s nothing quaint about my intentions.”
The bartender slides our drinks across the counter. I pick mine up, swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip. The whiskey burns pleasantly as it slides down my throat.
“And what exactly are your intentions?” I ask, my voice a purr. I don’t even sound like me, but my body and mind seem to be taking over, and I’ve lost all sense of control. Saylor is in charge now. Sara would have already run.
He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. “To unravel you. To see what’s beneath the perfectly polished exterior.” His hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me closer. The heat of his touch sears through the thin fabric of my dress.
Who in the hell says things like this?
I should walk away. I should end the night now. I should . . .
I pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. My body constricts, but I try to remain cool and collected. I’ve played this game before, but something about this man tells me the stakes are higher. I can already tell he’s three steps ahead of me, and I find it slightly infuriating.
“Bold of you to assume there’s anything beneath the surface. I am perfect. Always polished,” I counter, taking another sip of whiskey to aid in the courage I need to continue this banter. The scald in my throat matches the fire igniting in my veins.
His laugh is dark, almost menacing.
“Oh, I think we both know that’s not true. I saw you up there, singing. I know there are flaws—delicious imperfections.”
“And what makes you think you’re the one who gets to unravel them?” I ask.
I focus on his beard and, with the light cast from the neon signs peppering the bar area, I see now that it’s meticulously groomed, the edges sharp and precise. It’s not just a beard, it’s a statement. A mask, perhaps, hiding secrets I’m suddenly desperate to uncover. And then I see something more.
There’s a hue to the blackness of the hair. A midnight blue that catches the light. His beard is so black that it somehow breaks the color spectrum and now shimmers with an otherworldly blue tint.
“Blue,” I say.
“I never told you my name.”
“Your name is Blue?”
He lifts my hand and kisses it, an oddly old-fashioned gesture that somehow fits him perfectly. “Nice to meet you.”
I laugh at the absurdity of the name, and yet it also somehow seems so right. “Blue what? Blue . . . Beard? What’s your last name?”
His eyes flash with amusement at my question. “Just call me Blue. And what should I call you? Little songbird? Girl in the red dress who could very well send me to the gallows by the end of the night?”
I surprise myself by leaning closer, my lips brushing against his ear. “Tonight, you can call me whatever you want.”
Who. Am. I. Right. Now?!
He growls low in his throat, his grip on me tightening. “Dangerous words, love. I might just take you up on that offer.”
I pull back, meeting his intense stare. “I’m counting on it. I’m curious now. Is all your hair blue?” My gaze lowers as I lick my lips suggestively.
Oh dear god, did I just say that? I’ve lost my mind. I’ve completely lost my mind.
“I don’t usually do this,” I say, surprising myself with my honesty. “Mix business with pleasure, I mean.”
He leans in closer, his presence overwhelming in the best possible way. “And what makes tonight different?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe it’s the music. Maybe it’s the whiskey.” I meet his gaze. “Maybe it’s you.”
Blue smirks, finishing his whiskey in one smooth gulp. He sets the glass down with a decisive clink. “Shall we take this somewhere more . . . private?”
This man could be a psychopath. I’m actually on the run from killers. So while some people would go home with their one-night stands, there is no way in hell I’m going to, no matter how strong this man’s pull is on me. I need to be smart. I need to—
However . . .