Standing on the sidewalk outside her building was rather stupid, especially since he had no way of knowing if she was even home. Most people weren’t. Not on a Saturday during Mardi Gras. The party raged right outside her front door and she was probably lost somewhere in the crowd, enjoying it.
While he was staked out here staring at her apartment like he might suddenly develop X-ray vision.
He’d wanted her last night when she’d given him a glimpse of herself. And he didn’t just mean the smooth expanse of her skin. The fever of her desire. The way she’d reveled in his eyes on her. Her teasing and tempting. Bold and sensual. Daring.
It was the siren beneath her prim and proper exterior that held him captive. Instinct told him it was something she didn’t share with many. He craved the moment she’d surrender and give in to the need snapping hot and dangerous between them.
Being pulled along by the frenzied atmosphere, Beckett had joined in, donning the same mask from the night before. A cup of beer clutched in his hand, he settled back against the wall. And forced his gaze to focus on the crowd instead of the apartment across the way.
He was mentally arguing with himself, trying to convince himself that he should leave, when she was suddenly there. Pausing just outside the door that protected her building from the madness, she stared into the throng, getting her bearings.
A small smile tugging her lips, she pushed through the crowd, heading for Canal and the Endymion parade that would roll through soon. She was too late to get close, people had been camped out for hours to save spots, but she didn’t seem to care.
Unlike last night, she was no longer weighed down by exhaustion. An answering bubble of amusement rippled through his chest. He wanted to see her happy.
He wasn’t sure why, but that realization surprised him.
Although that joviality didn’t last for long. Not when, following her and debating whether or not to approach, he watched another man push into her personal space. The guy, most likely a college student—and from the looks of him an underage one, drunk off his ass—slammed into her.
Worry and anger twisted in Beckett’s gut. Ignoring the glares and shouts, he started shoving at the wall of people blocking him from Alyssa. But he couldn’t get to her fast enough.
His gaze never strayed, though. Huge clumsy hands wrapped around her hips, jerking her closer. Alyssa rocked back, going up onto the heels of the turquoise cowboy boots that hugged her calves. Who owned shoes that loud? He definitely wouldn’t have expected it of the cool-and-collected Alyssa he’d faced off with across the table today.
Now the minx who’d teased him last night...those boots fit her perfectly, all wild and outlandish.
Drunk Frat Boy ran a hand up her naked arm, from wrist to shoulder. He squeezed, urging her against the wide expanse of his chest. Beckett had spent the past several years of his life watching men and women dance around each other, playing the attraction game. It was clear to him this guy wanted Alyssa. He wouldn’t put it past the dude to have bumped into her on purpose.
Beckett’s teeth ground together. His hands balled into fists and he shot forward ready to intervene.
But her reaction stopped him.
Tossing her head back, Alyssa laughed. The sight literally stopped him in his tracks. It...changed everything about her. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized just how wistful her gaze had been. It was as if someone had flipped on a switch. It made his chest tighten and ache.
He’d seen the same pensive expression in his own mirror more times than he cared to remember.
Frozen, he watched her light green eyes sparkle. Her wide, luscious mouth stretched and opened. Instead of pulling away, she wrapped her long, elegant fingers around the guy’s shoulders and went up on tiptoe as she leaned into him. Her mouth brushed close to his ear. Beckett could see her lips moving, but there was no way to hear what she was saying above the din of music and noise.
Whatever it was, Beckett didn’t like it. The guy’s eyes, already glassy with too much alcohol, went completely glazed.
Alyssa patted Frat Boy’s shoulder before slipping away. The guy stood there staring after her with the kind of expression that would make a devoted puppy envious. His friends snagged him and pulled him away, but his gaze stayed glued to Alyssa’s retreating back until the mob swallowed him whole.
She wove in and out of the flood of humanity. Beckett couldn’t look away. Unlike Frat Boy, he didn’t have friends ready to pull him in the opposite direction. Somehow, he found himself behind her, watching the sway of her hips, as if the sight was water and he’d been crawling the desert for days.
A tight skirt—this one entirely different from last night’s and this morning’s—swished against the back of her thighs. The denim pockets were encrusted with a mess of rhinestones in matching fleur-de-lis. It hit a couple of inches above her knee, so wasn’t indecent, especially compared to some of the other outfits on the street.
A filmy, almost see-through shirt the same color as her boots floated around her body, loose, breezy and falling off one shoulder. It bared a large expanse of her creamy skin. Beneath it, a black tank clung in all the right places.
Even casual, she managed to be sexy in an understated way that was more tempting than any blatant display of skin. He knew her secret, though. Beneath the facade she hid a wild little wanton.
Slipping into one of the bars, she grabbed a drink and then came back outside to wander. Even when she reached the parade, she didn’t really pay attention to it. Instead, she watched the people.
He paid attention to what drew her notice, collecting details she most likely wasn’t aware of revealing. Watching for years from behind the barrier of his office window, he’d become rather adept at reading body language and people.
A family. A mom and dad with their arms draped around each other. Two kids, a boy and a girl, both teens, shoving at each other, bickering and bantering. Until someone knocked into the girl, and the boy went immediately into protective mode, pushing her behind the wall of his gangly, developing body. The parents exchanged an indulgent glance.
Alyssa let out a deep sigh, her expression making him curious. A half smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes were full of disappointment, longing and hurt.
He didn’t like that at all.
There were plenty of men on the streets. Beckett watched quite a few of them turn to stare as Alyssa passed by. But she was completely oblivious to the scrutiny. And not once did her gaze sweep across any of them with interest.
However, she noticed the couples. Their heads bent close. A guy whispering in his lover’s ear. A couple with their hands lodged in each other’s back pockets. She took it all in, ambling along as though she had nowhere to be and nothing more weighty on her mind than what her next drink would be.
Finally, she turned a corner to a side street that was a little less crowded. About halfway down the block she stopped. Around her, people streamed by, but she didn’t notice. Her gaze was riveted to something in the shadows of a deep alcove between two buildings.
Chancing discovery, Beckett moved closer until he could see what had caught her attention.
Something dark and hot surged through his blood when he realized she was staring at a couple blatantly making out. They weren’t trying to cover up what they were doing. Actually, they gave every impression of being completely oblivious that anyone else in the world existed.
The pale expanse of a leg wrapped tight around a denim-clad male hip shone in the light from the streetlamps. The man’s hands were pressed against the wall on either side of the woman’s head, but his entire body touched her from lips to chest to hip. Her fingers gripped his hair, holding him tight to her mouth.
They were devouring each other and, if they didn’t pull away, would eventually be giving anyone walking by a free show.
Beckett