Kept By the Beast by Hallie Bennett
CHAPTER FOUR
ASA
Poppy looks like a fucking pinup for a special flannel edition of Playboy ﹘ one specifically made for me. And I’m ready to turn to the centerfold.
The shirt she’s wearing is mine, and it’s knotted at her waist, showcasing an exaggerated hourglass shape I want to lick until my name’s a plea in her throat. Not the first time today I’ve envisioned that particular fantasy either. An image of her from this morning is burned in my memory. Outlined by glowing light and framed perfectly in the window, Poppy had been a vision ﹘ still clothed in my shirt but her legs exposed under the hem.
It had taken all of my strength and resolve to walk past her bedroom door instead of breaking it down to fall on her like a hungry wolf. Instead, I made do with jerking off in the shower which was a sad substitute for the warm woman in my bed.
Stealing another peek at Poppy across the truck console, my knuckles turn white as I clutch the steering wheel in an effort to not reach over and hold her hand. The innocent gesture is a marked change from my filthier thoughts but no less appealing.
“So, when you’re not visiting High Ridge, what do you do? I know Everton’s known for its tech companies. Is that something you’re interested in?” I ask, thirsty for more information about her life. It occurs to me that she could have a boyfriend back home, but if she did, he’s clearly not worth a damn after leaving her so helpless and unprotected.
Doesn’t matter now. She’s mine. Finders keepers and all that shit.
“Not really. I’m a freelance editor for authors, so at least I won’t be required to show up at an office Monday morning if this ordeal drags on that long.” Her body stiffens as she immediately apologizes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh. You’ve been great; I just hate ruining your weekend.”
“Trust me, you haven’t ruined anything.” Quite the opposite. She’s upended my world in the best possible way. Inexplicably and with no effort. There isn’t a logical explanation for the way I feel about Poppy ﹘ just a primal knowledge she belongs to me. All I need to do is help her realize that truth.
Preferably before she has a means to escape me.
“What about you? High Ridge is pretty small. Do you commute somewhere?”
“Not often. I’m part owner in Olson-Keller Lumber & Construction. Our lumberyard is about fifteen minutes from town, and most of my responsibilities lie there.” The hard, physical labor comforts me ﹘ a holdover from my youth spent doing similar work with my dad.
“That explains so much.”
“It does?”
Poppy stammers out an explanation as I park at the diner. “Oh… Um… It just makes sense that a lumber company would be successful in a small mountain community, that’s all. And the need for materials or crews to build never really fades either.”
“Neither does a supply of authors needing editors, I suppose. Plus, you’re free to work wherever.” Like here with me when we’re not busy fucking.
“That’s one of the reasons I moved to Everton. I thought it’d be good for me to live somewhere with more social opportunities to make friends, since my work life is so flexible. It’s nice being free to work when and where I want, except it usually means staying home ninety-nine percent of the time.” A dejected note creeps into her voice, and sympathy for her plight crowds my chest. Hearing her unhappiness strengthens my determination to keep her.
I’ll care for Poppy. Ensure her satisfaction. I may not have any experience keeping a woman, but I’ll learn damn fast to assure her needs are met.
“No boyfriend to take you out for date nights?” I probe, body suspended in apprehension.
A self-deprecating laugh bursts from her. “Definitely not. I barely have any friends to hang out with... Actually, forget I said that. I’m not sure why I’m sharing so much; it’s not your problem.” She struggles unbuckling the seatbelt, fidgeting in her seat, and I stop resisting my instincts.
Reaching across the console, my hand engulfs hers in a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. I like the insight into your life and appreciate you entrusting me with such vulnerability.” Doubt darkens her expression; it’ll take more than words to convince Poppy. “The same can be said for me. Micah and Rhett are the only people I rely on, and our bond formed after being branded as the town’s dark sheep.”
“How does an entire town decide that?”
“When you don’t fit their mold, it’s fairly easy. So, I understand feeling left out or lonely.” Something I’d never admitted out loud ﹘ the depth of the emotion previously unexplored. While I ignored most of the locals’ opinions of me, it left a mark being an outcast.
“I’m sorry that’s been your experience here. It sucks, doesn’t it?” Her hand turns over, fingers lacing with mine. “What a pair we make.”
A mated pair.
I lift our entwined hands to rub the back of hers along my cheek before reluctantly letting go, so we can head inside the diner. Fancy’s is one of the few places I frequent in town because the old-timers and regulars don’t give a shit about town politics and mind their own business. If a hankering for social interaction arises ﹘ a rare occasion ﹘ visiting the diner soothes the need even if I’m sitting alone in a booth. Just the act of being around people is enough.
Leading Poppy to my usual spot, she slides over the cracked plastic seat while I settle across from her. Sticky menus lay in front of us, and it’s not long before our orders are placed and delivered. We stick to lighter topics after the conversation earlier, content with learning about the other in a less serious way.
Bells ring as the diner door opens to reveal Mindy and her posse. What the fuck are they doing here? Part of the country club set, this place seems below their snobby standards. My jaw clenches when Mindy notices me, her narrowed eyes travelling over my tense shoulders before landing on Poppy. Ever since high school, she’s led the charge of naming me Beast and encouraging others to do the same.
I recognize the calculating gleam in her eyes and brace for an attack. Eventually Poppy would encounter my moniker, but I wish she would’ve had a little more time getting to know me beforehand.
“Ladies, be careful. The Beast left his lair.” The trio of women titter in amusement as they walk past our table. “Should we warn his prey to run while she can?”
A low growl vibrates in the back of my throat at the threat.
“Is she talking about you?” Poppy asks in disbelief, following the path of the women as they find a table near the back.
“Yeah, it’s their stupid pet name for me.”
“But why?”
I sweep a hand down my chest ﹘ encompassing my large form ﹘ hating having to explain to her. I don’t want her to see a beast, but it’s inevitable. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m an ugly fucking giant. Have been for years. Women either run in fear or revulsion. I’m just thankful you haven’t.”
Yet.
She releases a shaky breath, and a flush spreads from her neck to her cheeks. “You’re not ugly. And you don’t deserve that kind of treatment.” Her words vibrate in anger, and the fierce reaction surprises me. Fury seems like a foreign emotion for Poppy with how concerned she’s been about not causing me trouble this weekend. But I guess everyone has their limit, and we might’ve reached hers.
“Just ignore them; I usually do.”
“I don’t want to. They can’t come in here and insult you for fun. It’s like a scene from Mean Girls.” She bites her lip in contemplation before a steely look glimmers in her eyes. “Two questions: Do you want to really give them something to talk about? And do you trust me?”
“Unequivocally yes, but I’m not sure what you ﹘”
Poppy scrambles out of her seat and rounds the table before plopping down beside me, practically in my lap. Wrapping a hand around my neck, she pulls me down until her lips press hard against mine. I immediately open to the advance ﹘ partly in shock but mostly in greedy acceptance ﹘ and her tongue pushes forward, tasting of maple syrup from her waffles.
Fucking delicious.
Any thoughts of Mindy and her gang fly out the window as all of my senses focus on Poppy. Sucking the sweetness from her tongue. Reveling in the heat of her body. The curve of a breast bumps my arm, and I long to slip between the buttons of her shirt to cup the heavy weight in my palm. But we’re in public.
Would a beast care when his mate’s so close?
No, he fucking wouldn’t.
Resolve disappearing, my fingertips graze a button before Poppy retreats ﹘ returned as quickly to her seat as she left it. And a rumble of displeasure rolls around my chest.
Come back.