Page 7 of Before Broken Vows

Slim legs wrapped in tight jeans. A beautiful sight as she bends slightly over the windshield.

For a moment, instinct kicks in, fast and easy. My cock stirs as admiration flickers in my brain. She's got nice legs. A nice ass.

Oh, the things you can do to make up for hitting my car, sweetheart.

I open my mouth to throw out a line. I'm not sure, something about exchanging insurance information over dinner or a sly line about how I'm sure we can work something out, but then she straightens.

And turns.

The world stops moving.

The air rips out of my lungs.

Those damn hazel eyes with gold flecks. The face I've seen in my dreams and nightmares. The woman who disappeared four years ago without a fucking word.

Anastasia.

My Anastasia.

Well, she was anyway.

She freezes when she sees me. Mouth parted in shock.

"Stassi?"

Her name falls from my lips before I can stop it. My body goes cold then hot, rage and shock rising within me.

She looks different. Thinner. Hair shorter. But those eyes, I'd know them anywhere.

Panic flashes across her face.

Then she bolts.

No thought. No hesitation.

She runs like she's seen a ghost.

My body moves before my brain catches up.

I go after her. Anger, confusion, disbelief crashing through me like a tidal wave.

She sprints toward the far side of the lot, dodging between parked cars.

I pick up speed.

Four fucking years.

Four years thinking she could be dead. Four years swallowing rage and betrayal like broken glass. Four years convincing myself I didn't need to know why.

And now she's here. Alive. Breathing.

Running from me like she has a right to.

Not a chance.

"Stassi!" I roar.

Heads turn on the street. I don't care.