Page 42 of Flare

I nodded again. “Don’t hate me. I said it was complicated.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then asked, “But if you hadn’t liked me in that way, you would’ve fucked me?”

I winced. “Quite possibly.”

“Aha.” He appeared to think about that for a moment. “Okay.”

My brows crunched. “Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay. No kissing then.”

I stared at him. “And so...?”

He shrugged. “We talk.”

“Right, talk.” I turned my attention to the view beyond the window instead of the heat in those hazel eyes. Because if we weren’t going to kiss, then he really needed to turn those suckers down a notch or two before he frazzled all my good intentions.

“You know, considering this is just down the road from my flat, I’ve only been here a couple of times. Sad, right?” I broke the awkward silence. “Even in winter the view is pretty special.”

“It is.” Beck leaned forward on the high table, his arm settling against mine, and for a minute we said nothing, just looked. “This is nice, this talking shit.” He turned to grin at me and we both laughed.

“Yeah, okay. I’m weird. I get it.” I raised my beer and we clinked bottles.

“Not weird,” he said. “Just different. And different is good. I mean, I read poetry for fuck’s sake. I have to believe different is good, right?”

I grinned. “You said it, not me. Go on, recite something for me.”

“What? No!” He gasped, looking horrified. “I can’t just parrot stuff out on a whim, you know. I have standards. I need atmosphere: music, a fire, a pair of soft eyes.” His gaze lingered on mine and the heat went straight to my balls.

“Nope.” I poked a finger into that hard chest. “I want poetry and I want it now. After all, I showed you my creative work.”

His gaze narrowed. “All right. But close your eyes.”

I did as instructed. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Beck gave a soft snort and then he was right fucking there, the heat of his body pressed close to my side, so close I could feel the beat of his heart against my arm.Fucking hell.A flush of panic rose in my chest, but when his deep, buttery voice brushed my ear the panic subsided.

This was Beck.

“‘So doth thy Beauty make my lips to fail, / And all my sweetest singing out of tune. / And as at dawn across the level mead / On wings impetuous some wind will come, / And with its too harsh kisses break the reed / Which was its only instrument of song. / So too my stormy passions work me wrong, / And for excess of Love my Love is dumb.’”

His breath stayed hot on my skin as he added, “Courtesy of Oscar Wilde, 1881, Silentium Amoris.”

I swallowed hard as his lips brushed my ear, every nerve in my body screaming for attention, the wash of his words like a hot river through my brain.What the actual fuck?That should not have been as sexy as it was.

“Jesus Christ, Beck.” My eyes popped open to find him back in his seat, a nervous smile playing on his lips. “That was freaking hot.”

He coughed out a laugh. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Holy fuck. They need to change how they teach that stuff in high school. Kids would be running to class.” He looked so pleased that I couldn’t take my eyes off him. “If that’s what you do with your students, I bet more than half of them are in love with you.”

A red stain crept up his neck. “I, um, obviously don’t dothat... with my students. Just so we’re clear.”

He was pretty fucking adorable. “Good to know.” And if I’d thought I’d been in trouble before, things had just taken a turn for the worse.

Beck appeared to feel the same as we turned to the window at the same time in what felt like an awkward attempt to forget what just happened. The sky was now a dismal evening murk and pedestrians were collared against the stiff northerly. But the lights in the historic ferry building at the base of the hill cast a sparkling welcome mat for commuters heading home and laid a balm on my still thundering heart.

“Rafe drags me here on occasion.” Beck broke the silence. “He knows I like the books and the smallness of the place. I’m not much for big social outings, as you’ve probably guessed.”

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