Her bright eyes blinked, seeming to hold tiny, scattered stars within them.


    "Vonnie, don''t look at me like that." One of Bet''s hands still held the towel, while the other covered her eyes.


    Yvonne''s vision was obscured, and she instinctively pulled his hand away.


    The moment she could see again, Bet was already leaning in, his lips pressing against hers.


    He had just showered, washing away the smell of alcohol. His skin carried the faint, clean scent of body wash, mixed with something crisp and masculine—it was intoxicating.


    Yvonne''s arms slowly wrapped around his waist as they kissed. When it ended, Bet held her and sat down on the living room sofa, trying topose himself.


    Yvonne sat on hisp, her arms draped around his neck.


    The lights were off, and only the moonlight and the city glow filtered in from outside, filling the quiet room with an unspoken intimacy.


    Yvonne tilted her chin up, her gaze meeting his deep, eyes, which seemed to burn with an inner fire.


    "Bet, do you want me?" she asked, her voice a husky, alluring whisper.


    Thest thread of Bet''s self-control seemed to snap. He rolled over, pinning her beneath him on the sofa.


    Kisses and caresses turned desperate, frantic.


    Yvonne was only wearing a thin, white slip dress, and it was nearly in tatters from his ministrations.


    Bet, afraid of hurting her, tried his best to hold back. A fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead; he felt more nervous now than he did during his most dangerous missions.


    Just as he was tentatively about to cross the final line, the doorbell rang―once, then again, and again. The charged, intimate atmosphere in the room shattered instantly.


    The two bodies, tightly entwined on the sofa, both froze.


    Yvonne


    to ice.


    She shrank back slightly,


    O at the man still pre1


    against her with a dazed


    sed


    expression


    Bet''s face was a thundercloud. After a moment''s hesitation, he pushed himself up.


    The doorbell finally stopped, but then Bet''s phone, sitting on the coffee table, began to ring.


    The screen lit up, showing a call from Emma.


    She was right outside the door. When no one answered, she had resorted to calling his phone.


    Bet nced at the phone, his brow furrowed deeply. He stood up, re-buckled his belt, and picked up the shirt he''d tossed on the carpet.


    "My mother''s here. Do you want to meet her?" he asked, buttoning his shirt as he looked back at Yvonne.


    "Can I be seen like this?" Yvonne''s dress was disheveled, and her neck, shoulders, and the white expanse of her chest were covered in a series of dark love bites.


    Bet looked at his handiwork and gave a wry smile. He bent down, lifted her from the sofa, and carried her into the master bedroom.


    "Be good. I''ll be back to keep youpany in a bit," Bet said, cing a light


    kiss on her forehead before turning to leave.


    The phone had rung several times, and now the doorbell started again, persistent and unyielding.


    Bet walked to the door and pulled it open.


    Emma stood outside, looking impatient. "What took you so long? I was starting to think you weren''t home."


    Without waiting for an answer, she brushed past Bet and walked into the apartment.


    "What are you doing here?" Bet asked coolly, following her in.


    ??


    "It''s the holiday and you didn''t evene home. I found out you went to the Jones''. She said you left their ce a while ago, so figured you be at Cherry Bay and came to check on you."


    Emma''s voice wasced with disapproval.