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 isBlue?”
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...
I could always...
I down the rest of my drink. Fuck it. I’m going to act impulsively for once in my life. Before I chicken out, I take his hand and lead him to my dressing room.
The space is small, cluttered with costumes and makeup, but it’s private. As soon as the door clicks shut behind us, Blue pushes me against it, his body pressing into mine. His lips crash against my neck, beard tickling my skin as he trails kisses down to my collarbone.
“Tell me,” he groans against my skin, “what’s a beautiful girl like you doing with a man like me?”
I laugh breathlessly. “Looking for trouble, it seems.”
He pulls back, his gaze connecting with mine. “That’s the answer I was hoping for.”
In one swift motion, he lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his waist. He carries me to the small couch in the corner, laying me down with surprising gentleness. But there’s nothing gentle about the way he looks at me, like a predator eyeing its prey.
I reach up, running my fingers through his beard. “So, Mr. Blue, are you going to show me if the carpet matches the drapes?”
He smirks, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. “Patience, my songbird. Good things come to those who wait.”
As he reveals more skin, I see tattoos peeking out from beneath his clothes. Intricate designs that seem to shift and move in the dim light of the dressing room.
He’s marking every single box on my must-need sexy checklist.
