by H. M. Ward
“I’m a New Yorker.”
“I can tell. I feel like you might castrate me if I answer incorrectly.”
“There is no wrong answer at this point—only the truth. And don’t lie to me, or this is over. I want to know what I’m walking into.”
He grins again, his blue eyes darting to the side and back as if he’s considering telling me something.
“Fetishes—not tonight. Warrants—none. Criminal record—none. I’m not a colorful person in that regard.”
I’ve been tracing his cheek while we talk. Nothing is setting off my crazy-o-meter, which makes me realize that this is going to happen. I don’t have to go home and cry. I won’t have to relive this night again. My eyes glass over as the thought flashes and fades.
Hot guy notices. He leans in and takes my face between his palms and rubs his thumb over my cheek.
“I noticed you outside and can tell we’re in similar positions this evening. I don’t do this—at all—and honestly you’re somewhat intimidating, but I feel drawn to you.” The confession startles me, as does the affection in his voice.
My chest tightens and I want to wrap my arms around him and hold on tight. He seems like an anchor in a storm, a safe spot. Leaning in slowly, I close the distance between us and brush my lips against his. The result is immediate. Shocks cascade through my body, electrifying my skin and torching my insides. My heart slams into my chest so rapidly I can’t breathe.
We both pull back and stare with mirrored expressions of shock and that four-letter dirty word—hope. I see it in his eyes and felt it when we kissed. There was a connection that’s deep and pure. It startled both of us, and hardly anything does that anymore.
I sputter out, “This isn’t going to happen.”
He stares at me, wide-eyed. His lips part, but Emily cuts him off.
She perches on the seat opposite him and reaches out for his tie. Grabbing it, she yanks the guy forward.
“Listen, if you hurt her I will track you down, and feed your balls to my cat—while they’re still attached to your body.”
I bury my face in my hands. “Emily, stop.”
“Good to know.” Hot guy pulls his tie back and glances at me. “This one should come with a wick warning.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “That’s on her other shirt.”
Emily frowns. “Fine, go off together and have hot, hairy sex. See if I care.”
“Hairy?” We both say in unison and look at Emily, then each other. She leans back in her seat and looks over at the bar.
“If you end up dead under a bridge, it’s not my fault. I warned you.”
I put my hand to the side of my mouth and say in a loud whisper, “Is she talking to you?”
“I thought she was addressing you. Unless you have something dangly to tell me about, of the hairy variety—”
My jaw drops. “No!”
“Well, you mentioned a wick once already. I wouldn’t want to get you home and find that you really DO have one under that dress.”
Emily laughs. “Straight people are weird. If you’re not into her, I can take her home tonight instead.” Emily winks at me.
I want to punch her, but instead I squirm in my seat. To my surprise, hot guy takes my hand, helps me up, and hands me my purse before addressing Emily.
“As much fun as it is chatting with you, Emily, I need to take your friend.” He cuts off like he was going to say more, but didn’t.
“Uh,” I babble, “that meant something else since you didn’t finish the sentence.”
“I think you caught my meaning.”
He looks down at me, intense once again. The sensations shooting through my body originate at the point of contact. His touch is electric and all consuming to the point that I shiver.
“Here, take my coat.” Before I can protest, he has it wrapped around my shoulders. Damn, it smells good—like him. He presses his hand to my back and guides us to the door. Emily’s laughter rings out from behind me.
“Remember to use protection,” she shouts across the pub. A few male voices snigger. Before I fully realize what happened, we’re outside.
“Your friend is very, unique.”
Rubbing my arms, I look up and down the street. “That’s one word for it.” Hot Guy turns me toward him.
“I like you. I want to see where this goes. Come with me.” His confidence is contagious, and I find myself nodding, even though my mind is screaming for me to run the other way.
A sleek black Bentley pulls up to the curb, interrupting my thoughts. I glance at him. “Who are you?”
“No names tonight, American Girl. We both know that’s not what we want.”
I press my lips together and look up at him. Hot Guy opens my door and waits. Part of me wants to run—the attraction to this guy is too strong—but the other part of me knows I can’t go home. Heart racing, I reach for his outstretched hand and slip into the car.
CHAPTER 3
As soon as the car pulls away from the curb, Hot Guy pulls me under his arm. His lips brush against my ear when he speaks.
“Have you and Emily been intimate?”
“No!” I pull away. “I’m not gay. Why do people keep asking me that?” Oops. I said too much. I stare at the seat in order to avoid his gaze.
“Interesting.”
“No, I’m not. It’s not interesting at all. I’m plain, normal, and totally uninteresting.”
He’s smiling again. That look makes my chest tighten and my skin flush. He lifts his hand to my cheek and brushes the back of his fingers over my smooth skin. “You are anything but uninteresting.” The touch makes me shiver, but I try to hide it. The result has me sitting ramrod straight.
He touches my arm and slips the jacket away, letting it fall to the floorboard. I wait, heart pumping, wondering what he’s going to do. The way he lets his eyes linger and the way he moves his hands makes me want to lean into him and get lost in his lips.
Hot Guy lifts his finger and touches my shoulder lightly. The soft touch is amazingly sensual as he glides his hand down my arm, tracing the curve of my shoulder all the way down to my wrist. When he’s done, he takes my hand in his and lifts it to his lips. The warm pressure of his kiss on the back of my hand ignites an explosion in my stomach. The result is a breathy gasp that turns my face red.
He glances up at me from under his dark lashes. “If a caress is that powerful, I can’t help but wonder what the rest will be like.”
I’m lost in his gaze, drowning in twin pools of blue. I smile hesitantly, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. Shyness is sucking me into its clutches, but I’m fighting it. There’s something about this guy that is so intense, something from deep within that’s calling me to him so I can’t pull away. When he touches me, it's like my mind gets fried. Rational thoughts become hazy, and I feel how lonely I am and how much I want him to hold me. My eyes fixate on his lips, wanting to taste his kiss and feel the exquisite pressure of his touch.
It’s as if he can read my mind. He reaches for me and gives me a soft kiss, gently brushing his lips over mine. It’s light, like his touch, but it leaves me breathless and wanting more. I shudder, gasping, when he pulls away. The car stops, and I look out the window.
“What are we doing here?”
His car door is suddenly opened, “This is where I’m staying. Come up with me? I want to find out what makes you smile, American Girl.”
I can’t help it, I grin. Putting my hand in his, I slip out the car. We’re at one of the insanely expensive Victorian-styled buildings. I’ve always looked through the windows of this building on my way to work. It’s a beautiful combination of modern and ancient, melded together into breathtaking splendor.
“You live here?”
He nods and looks at his feet for half a second. “For now, yes.” When he looks up, our eyes catch, and I know there’s a painful story beneath his beautiful eyes. I can still feel the sting of betrayal and a memory that wants to wither away into dust, but it can’t.
&
nbsp; I understand him all too well.
A doorman in a top hat and tails pulls open a massive door for us. We pass through and head toward the lift. It has a lavish gate that closes on both sides of the shaft. He presses the button for the penthouse and then glances at me. “I’m not trying to impress you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” For a moment, he seems unsure.
It’s endearing. I step toward him and press my body into his, taking his tie in my hands as I do so. “That’s not what I’m thinking about at all.”
His voice catches in his throat. “What are you thinking about, then?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. There’s something about him, and once we’re touching, it’s like two drops of water—the pull toward him is consuming me.
My gaze remains locked on his lips until the elevator dings. He looks away and pushes the gate open. When he steps out, he offers his hand. “Follow me.”
We walk down the hallway and stop at a set of double doors. He takes out his room key and touches it to the lock. The light flashes green, and we push inside.
“Oh, my God.”
I stop in the foyer. Yeah, it’s got a freaking foyer with walls that stretch up forever. Gold gilding, mirrors, moldings, and a massive bed make up the space in front of me. To the right, there’s a white marble bathroom with black accents and the biggest soaking tub I’ve ever seen. I blink at the chandeliers—they’re glittering from the bathroom and above the bed.
I walk inside a little bit more and stare at the huge bed. It has a taupe comforter that looks like raw silk with a matching canopy. The carved wood headboard and bedposts are massive and masculine. The soft glow of the chandeliers makes the room feel warm and intimate.
Hot Guy acts like it’s nothing, but I know this room is bigger than most flats in London. Hell, the bathroom is bigger than my bedroom.
I’m still hovering in the doorway, shocked. Either Hot Guy has money or he killed someone who did.
“How long are you going to be here?”
He turns toward me and the expression in his eyes makes me sorry I asked. “I’m not certain.” He walks over toward the bar and lifts a decanter. “Would you like a drink?” I nod and kick my heels off before walking over to him. He pours amber liquid into a crystal cup and hands it to me.
After pouring his drink, he turns to me and lifts his glass. “To a bit of luck on an unlucky day.”
We clink our glasses together and then drink. I swallow and the burn catches up with me, making my eyes water.
“Wow.”
“Yes, it’s something, isn’t it?”
I walk over and stand next to him, following his gaze. To the side, in the garbage is a black bottle with a name brand that I recognize from work. I blink rapidly and look at my empty glass and then back at the trash.
“Was that? Is that? Wuh?” I stutter and point at the bottle.
He understands me. With a sorrowful smile he nods. “Yes, it is and this bottle was just under ten thousand quid. I saved it for a special occasion that never came.”
The lost look in his eyes kills me. My stomach falls into my feet, and I stare out the window at the street below.
“I know how that feels.”
His gaze slides to the side as he looks at me. He smiles slightly then resumes his stance, staring outside.
“What’s with the look?”
He’s quiet for a moment, and then turns toward me to speak.
“Nothing, this is an anomaly, that’s all. I don’t typically do this, but when I do there’s non-stop talk about expenses and investments, about money and what it can do.”
Nodding, I say, “Everyone wants a piece of you.”
His gaze narrows and he takes my hand, turning me toward him. “Except you.” He studies me, watching my eyes as he asks, “You really don’t know who I am?”
“Should I?”
There’s no reply. Instead, he slowly lowers his mouth to mine. His hands travel down my bare arms and up to my shoulders before cupping my face. His kiss is slow and soft, building in pressure with each pass of his lips.
Heart racing hard, I hold onto his neck as he pushes me into the sideboard. The decanter is behind me. I break the kiss, worried about spilling the bottle. “Wait a second. The bottle.” I manage to tell him between kisses, but he doesn’t want to stop.
When my words penetrate, he pulls away. In a husky voice, he rasps, “You’re worried about breaking the bottle?”
“I don’t want to spill that. It cost a fortune.”
He nods and then lowers his eyes, letting his gaze ravage my body. Leaning in he whispers, “Then let me spill it all over your naked body and lick it off.” He watches my reaction closely, keeping that beautiful face on mine.
I feel heat rush to certain places when he says those words. I’m not sure what does it—his willingness to blow that much money on a stranger or the compassion in his eyes—but those few words push me over the edge. I know he’ll do it, and I can’t say it doesn’t sound fun. Grabbing his tie, I pull his mouth down on mine and kiss him hard. Butterflies erupt inside of me, fluttering through my stomach with every touch of his hand.
Before I know it, I’m up on the sideboard with my legs parted, allowing enough room for him to stand in the middle. His kisses drop from my mouth to my neck as his hands find the zipper on my dress.
He freezes for just a moment before letting my dress slip down. I haven't kissed anyone a long time, and I’m surprised I want more.
"Are you certain about this, love?" he asks, voice full of concern.
“Yes,” I take hold of his tie and pull him down, smashing our lips together. Heat rises through me, flooding my body in all the right places. The dress drops and suddenly there’s nothing between us from the waist up.
Hot Guy’s gaze drops and drinks me in. The way he looks at me makes my stomach twist. I yank the hem of his shirt free and run my hands up his sides. He sucks in and closes his eyes before tipping his head back.
It’s a rush of adrenaline, that’s all. There’s no other explanation for the effect I have on him or how his touch lights me on fire.
I trace my hand over his toned muscles and smooth skin, wishing his shirt was gone. I tug at the tie, freeing it from his neck and tossing it aside. I pull at his shirt, unbuttoning it as his lips work the spot on the side of my neck. His hands remain on my waist, which is driving me nuts. I wiggle, trying to get him to touch me, but he doesn’t.
Hungry for his touch, I find his hands and place them over my chest, letting him feel my curves. His hands are smooth and strong, gripping me softly, rubbing his thumb. His kisses have become ravenous as he trails his way down my neck with his lips.
I arch my back wanting him to free me. The images behind my eyes fight to be seen, but I’m close to sensation overload. It’ll chase the shadows away, and the nightmare will cease for now. I shut my eyes tightly, not wanting him to see.
Today it happened. My mind flashes back to the moment before we left for the hospital. Elation fills me, followed by dread.
My stomach flips when he touches me, pulling me from the memory. I gasp and finally get his shirt open. I rake my nails over his chest and pull his waist to my hips. Hot Guy lets out a wonderfully deep, sexy sound as he presses against me.
Tugging at his hair, I want more. In a breathy voice, I utter a word I haven’t said this way in years, “Please.” I want him to free me, to let me escape for a little while.
He presses his eyes closed and lowers his face that last little bit, which puts his lips right in front of my breast. Breathing hard, I watch my chest rise and fall, waiting for him to kiss me there.
Hot Guy leans in painfully slow, and just as his lips brush against my skin there’s a knock at the door. Startled, I jump back and slam my head into the wall behind me. The result is like cold water. He darts back and runs his hands through his hair. Breathing hard, he looks over his shoulder at me, conflicted.
I remain seated on top of the sideboard,
unable to look away from him. My arms slowly come up to cover my chest as a second knock follows the first.
He turns and looks at his shirt on the floor, dips over and picks it up. He drapes it over my shoulders and pulls it shut in front. When he does so, I notice his hands are shaking although he tries to hide it.
“My apologies, but I’m afraid this isn’t going to work. I can’t do this.” He presses his lips together and turns toward the door. In a few long strides, he’s across the room, and no longer in sight. I hear the door open, but I can’t move. Shock holds me in place for a few seconds.
When the door closes, Hot Guy returns with a wicker basket filled with clothes. “I owe you an explanation—”
My shoulders come up to my ears, and I shiver. Slipping off the sideboard, I turn and toss him his shirt. “No, you really don’t.”
“I really do.”
I pull up my dress while he’s talking and yank up the zipper, mortified. “Think nothing of it.” As I dart passed him, he reaches for me, grabbing hold of my wrist. We both spin around and face each other. He’s breathing hard, shirtless, and beautiful—with pity in his eyes. “Don’t.” It’s one word, a command to stop.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you…”
I grab my purse and then slip my shoes on one at a time. It feels like it’s taking me forever to get out the door. I want to cry, and I can’t let him see me. I keep my gaze on the carpet as I tug on my shoes. “You didn’t.”
Before he can say another word, I’m gone.
CHAPTER 4
Sleep eludes me. I spend most of the night regretting Mr. Sexy Pants, especially with the way things ended. His wife was probably at the door. God, I’m so stupid.
Needing to clear my head, I impatiently wait for Emily to leave the flat before heading out. I can’t face her. She’s going to want to know what happened and I can’t tell her he tossed me out on my butt after getting a peek at my boobs.
When I creep out of my room, she's still sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea, engrossed in whatever she's reading on her tablet. There goes that idea. Trying for nonchalance, I walk through the room, grabbing my bag and a pair of sunglasses before heading for the door.
