His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Yeah, I know you.”
She wet her lips. Why had she just done that? Why was her head tipping back and her toes pressing against the floor as if she wanted to get closer to him? Did she want him to kiss her?
Utter madness.
“I know that you used to come into my place because you liked to run your little experiments.” His gaze lifted to meet hers. “But you stopped doing that. I told you the bar was off-limits, and you stayed away.”
“I…that wasn’t in my notes.” Her heart lurched. “When did you tell me to stay away?”
He swallowed. “What notes?”
He’d just answered a question with a question. There couldn’t be a more obvious diversionary tactic.
“What. Notes?” Ramsey pushed.
“I was able to recover some observational notes that I had created on an old computer. Some info about my trips to this place.” She would be as honest as possible. “Unfortunately, the files were corrupted so I couldn’t read everything.” If only. “Just bits and pieces. But they are bits and pieces from the time in my life that I lost.”
“I see.”
Did he? “I don’t think you do.” Anger hummed in her voice. “I don’t think you see anything at all about me because you don’t know what it’s like to be me. You don’t know what it’s like to have a giant hole in your life. A blank space during which anything could have happened. I lost time. I lost my life. I want it back.”
He leaned in even closer.
He’s going to kiss me.
And if he did, his mouth would be hot and hard and so sensual. He’d tug on her lower lip. Thrust his tongue past her parted lips. He’d have her moaning and arching against him, and she wouldn’t care who was outside of his door.
“Have you ever thought…” His voice had gone lower. Rougher. “That you’re better off not knowing what happened?”
Then, before Whitney could respond, he shoved away from her.
“It’s my life,” Whitney told him grimly. “I think that means I should make that decision.”
He’d turned his back on her. “And it’s my bar. So when I say that you won’t be allowed entrance here again, I mean it.”
“You are a bastard.”
He didn’t look back at her. “I’ve been told that before.” He headed for a desk. Ran his fingers along the edge. “Go back to your quiet, safe world, Whitney. You’ve always been too obsessed with danger. It’s time to put that obsession to bed.”
She didn’t move. “I have some questions for you.”
“And I don’t have answers for you.”
“You don’t even know what the questions are!” she exploded.
Slowly, his head angled toward her. His gaze met hers. And once more, she had the wild thought…
He looks like he wants to eat me up. His stare seemed to burn with intensity as it raked over her. There was too much knowledge in that stare of his.
“I’ll answer one question. Just one.”
“Oh, wow, aren’t you the super generous one.” She stomped toward him.
“No, I’m not. No one has ever accused me of being generous. Or kind. Or any of those other annoying and useless traits. I’m dangerous. I’m deadly. I’m the bastard you don’t want to face in the dark.”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“Is that your one question?” Mocking.
Maddening.
“No!” She stopped in front of him. Straightened her spine. “I want to know…”
One dark eyebrow rose. He was all cocky and confident and arrogant and she wanted to shake him because there was so much more beneath his surface, Whitney was sure of it.
“What do you want to know?” His hand rose, and his fingers curled under her chin as his thumb brushed gently over her cheek.
She stared straight into his eyes. She wanted his control to shatter. She wanted to see the real man that he was hiding beneath this cold mask. “How do I know what it feels like when you kiss me?”
The darkness of his eyes seemed to get even deeper.
“If I don’t belong here, if I’m supposed to stay out of your bar and your world, then how come when you were leaning toward me just a few moments ago, I suddenly knew exactly what it would feel like if your mouth took mine?”
Chapter Two
Observation notes: I don’t think Ramsey Hyde is as bad as the stories say.
Or…is he? Maybe I just hope he’s not that bad…
***
Whitney Augustine stared up at him with her gorgeous, green eyes. Her lashes were thick and dark, and her gaze seemed to bore straight into him. Her hair—blond, silky—teased her shoulders, and her lush red lips were parted.
She seemed fragile. Almost breakable. Back when she’d first started coming to his bar, she’d just strode right in as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She’d always smiled. Laughed freely. She’d gone toe-to-toe with him and showed no fear.
But now, fear clung to her. And she was too fucking pale.
His thumb slid over her cheek again. Beautiful Whitney. The woman who damn well haunted him. All he wanted to do was drag her closer. Hold her tight. Never, ever let her go.
She had no idea how close to the edge he was. Had no idea that for once in his miserable life, he was actually trying to do the right thing…for her.
“How do I know how you taste?” Whitney whispered.
His cock shoved hard against the front of his jeans. He’d been turned on ever since he’d seen her. Whitney had that effect on him. He saw her, he wanted her, and, usually, he took her.
Not that she remembered any of that. If she’d remembered all the times—all the ways—they’d fucked, she wouldn’t be staring at him with faint confusion on her face. She had no clue that he’d had her against the door. On the nearby couch. On the desk.
No matter how many times he took her, Ramsey always wanted more.
She’d become his obsession.
A weakness that he could not afford.
“How do I know?” she pushed in that sensual, husky voice that haunted his dreams.
He wanted her mouth. Wanted to drive his tongue past her plump lips and take and taste and have her giving that little moan in the back of her throat that always drove him insane. But if he did that, if he crossed that line…
It’s taking all of my strength to give her up. I can’t taste her again.
Because…he’d just want to keep her.
Fuck me, I already want to keep her.
“Have we been lovers?” Whitney searched his gaze. “Were we involved?”
“You’ve asked a lot more than just one question.” His voice was too gruff. Her scent had wrapped around him, and it flooded him with too many memories. Raspberries. She still smelled like sweet raspberries. Whitney must still be using the same scented soap. He’d bought her a ton of that stuff one day because he loved the way it smelled on her body and—
“And you haven’t answered any of my questions.”
No, he hadn’t. “Pick one. I’ll answer it.” He shouldn’t. He should be walking her outside. Sending her away. This was too dangerous. His life had always been too dangerous to include someone like her.