Virgin Daiquiri - Elise Faber Page 0,3

and my default expression was scowl, especially when I had to haul some rowdy fucker out of the bar. Brooke even liked to tease that my resting bitch face was more powerful than hers.

Still, I’d had the bite more than coming, and not just because of the kiss.

But because I’d let her think that I hadn’t wanted to kiss her.

Because I’d been warring with myself, thinking that I didn’t deserve to have my hands on such a beautiful, sweet angel, my lips, my tongue—

And then the angel had shown me a slice of the devil.

With her teeth.

Hard enough to surprise, not hard enough to really hurt.

I glanced back down at my arm, saw the marks had already faded, then looked down the hall, the flash of her blond ponytail disappearing into the front room. I followed slowly, intending to lock the door behind her, but about halfway down the hall, I kicked something.

It clattered across the floor.

I looked down, saw it was a cell phone, then bent and picked it up, just as the beautiful angel-devil rounded the corner, muttering to herself about idiots.

She skittered to a stop, eyes going from the phone in my hand up to my face.

“This yours?” I asked, holding it out.

Silence.

Then a begrudging, “Yes.”

I waved it lightly. “You going to take it?”

Her lips pressed flat, which I knew was a fucking shame because I’d kissed that luscious mouth and if it was pressed flat against anything, then it should be pressed flat to some part of my body.

And then I was thinking of all the parts she could press that mouth to.

And then my dick twitched.

Fuck.

She stepped forward and snatched the cell out of my hand.

And maybe the devil that had her biting me invaded me for a minute, because as she turned away, starting to stomp back into the front room, I couldn’t help calling, “You’re welcome.”

She froze.

Spun slowly to face me.

Fuck, she was beautiful with her eyes blazing like that, the color high on her cheeks, her hair fanning out behind her. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice that she was curved in all the right places, that my hands itched with the memory of briefly having those curves under my palms.

She strode toward me and jabbed a finger into my chest. “I don’t know what your problem is,” she hissed. “But—”

I captured that finger, brought it up to my mouth and nipped at the tip. “You’re my problem, darlin’.”

A shocked gasp paired with her trying to snatch her finger back. “You—y-you—”

“You’re beautiful, darlin’,” I whispered. “And I liked kissing you way too much. That’s the honest truth,” I added when it looked like she would argue. “But I’m not a good man and that— I shouldn’t—” I shook my head, cutting off the words as familiar guilt came over me again. I hadn’t been able to save Brooke’s brother, hadn’t bothered to look after Brooke. I hadn’t even been able to fulfill my military contract because I’d been injured and—

Fuck. Enough.

But just like so often over the last year, I wasn’t able to quiet the thoughts and insecurities.

Because at the end of the day, all I was good for was mixing a mean Cosmopolitan, pulling a beer with just the right amount of head from the tap, and running the occasional troublemaker from the bar.

Booze.

Bouncing.

Not infiltrating beautiful, innocent women’s lives.

The anger faded from her face.

She went quiet for a long moment, that finger in my grip relaxing. But then she shocked the shit out of me by turning her hand and resting it along my jaw, cupping it gently. “You rescued my purse,” she murmured. “You can’t be that bad.”

My breathing stalled at the gentle touch.

It was almost more intoxicating than the kiss. Almost.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” I murmured, unable to believe the words were coming out of my mouth. “You don’t know what I’ve seen. What—”

Sympathy in her blue-green eyes.

Then she rose on tiptoe, and her lips were on mine.

Heat.

Sweet as sugar.

Then the sugar disappeared.

“Dinner’s at seven p.m.,” she murmured, dropping back down to her feet. “72 Star Ridge. It’s the yellow house on the corner with white trim.”

She strode away, leaving me with my jaw dropped open, no doubt a shell-shocked expression on my face. But I managed to recover enough to ask her, just before she moved around the corner, “What’s your name?”

Her feet stopped moving, those blue-green eyes drifted over her shoulder. “Iris.”

I was still staring after her, thinking that was the absolute