Page 24 of Flirting With Disaster

“My wife?”

“Yes.”

He paused, eyes lowered to his scarred hand. “I killed her six years ago.”

Jude chuckled. “Stop. Tell me the truth. Maybe it will make you feel better to get it out.”

He brought his gaze back to hers, the shadows misting through his eyes like dark clouds before a thunderstorm.

“You’re telling me what you believe. Now tell me what happened.”

He crossed his arms and backed to the opposite counter a few feet away, putting virtual miles between them. “She died a year after we were married because I was a drunken asshole who’d deserted her when she needed me to stay and work things out.”

There was more to the story. She’d bet her life on it. She reached out, pulled him closer then touched the scar on his cheek. “You loved her.”

He shrugged. “And I killed her. I keep a gun and a bottle of whiskey by my bed. Reminders of how quickly I could change my life if I chose.”

Every part of her wanted to touch him, hold this shattered man, find out the whole story. “Let’s hold off on those kind of changes for a while, hmmm?”

Beck smiled. “You’ve changed things. Some.”

“For the better, I hope?”

He laughed. A wonderful, rusty chuckle. “The jury’s still out.” His features sobered. “You’re dangerous to me, Jude.”

“And the scars on your face and arm? How did you get

those?”

He stood there, never taking his eyes from her, reading her, deciding…something. “All just reminders of the people I’ve hurt.”

Jude ran her finger along his hand—puckered, filled with peaks and valleys to trap the pain. “My parents died in a plane crash. I know what it’s like to feel guilt and sorrow over things said or unsaid before those we care about leave us. Some bad things just happen, Beck. Through no cause of our own.”

He lifted his hands to her face, his eyes riveted to her lips. “Very dangerous.”

His features hardened—in anger, fear, regret…she didn’t know. But the intensity of his need enveloped her like the warmth of a steam shower as he lowered his lips to hers.

And she was done.

Done with worrying, done with researching, done with calculating, done with thinking. All she wanted was to feel.

His kiss was soft, yet demanding. His tongue warm and commanding as he tasted her lips. She opened for him and his tongue swept inside like a marauder conquering his most arduous rival.

He pulled back abruptly and rested his forehead against hers. “Jude, the things I want to do to you. God, do you know how bad I am for you?”

She knew.

“I can’t resist you. All I can think about is being with you, knowing you, fucking you.”

She gasped and he smiled.

“Does that scare you?”

She shook her head. “Actually, no. Your dirty talk is…stimulating. I’ve never been with a man, Beck. My whole life has been on the outside looking in. I want to be inside that world. If only for a night, I’ll take it.”

His eyes narrowed. “But you don’t want me. You want Fantome.”

“I was hoping for a more clandestine affair. One where I didn’t…know so much about my despoiler. An affair strictly of the body.”

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