AStrangersTouch

by Lacey Savage

  She touched the back of her head, where she’d pinned her long locks in place this morning. She started slipping out one of the pins before she caught herself and straightened her spine. “I like it this way. Less maintenance, and it didn’t fly every which way when we were on your motorcycle.”

  He scowled, apparently not used to being disobeyed. “You don’t need to be so plain, Roxana. A new hairstyle, an exercise regime, and you could be worthy of being on my arm.”

  The shock careening through her system jerked her to her feet just as the waitress came around the corner carrying a tray with two plates balanced precariously. One of the plates held a souvlaki dinner that could feed a family of four, while the other was about half the size and consisted of a pile of leaves with a sliced tomato on top. She could guess which was hers.

  She turned around and stormed to the exit without another word or a glance back. Kastor followed. She knew he would.

  Outside, winter submerged the city in a gray fog. The cold slapped Roxi’s cheeks and she burrowed into the collar of her coat as she took off at a light jog down West 44th Street. Tall buildings stretched up far into the sky, and her reflection shimmered back at her from myriad mirrored windows up and down the block.

  Kastor gripped her arm and brought her to a halt. “You do not walk away from me.”

  She shook off his grip and turned, glaring at him. “And you don’t get to be an asshole. Not with me. Touch me again and I’ll scream.” She looked pointedly at the people rushing by them. Even on a Sunday, she could count on New Yorkers to fill the streets.

  He fisted his hands at his sides, his eyes shooting daggers at her. “This is not over.” With a final glare, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  Roxi watched him leave. She held her breath until she was sure he’d vanished down the street, probably back into the restaurant so he could finish his meal. He’d been her ride home, but she wasn’t worried. There was a subway station just three blocks down.

  Huddling against the cold, Roxi quickened her steps. She wanted to get back to her warm, cozy apartment and spend the evening watching a girly movie with her roommates while she tried not to think about Donovan.

  You are beautiful.

  Donovan’s words rang in her head, so different from Kastor’s hurtful remarks. He’d called her plain and implied she was fat. There’d been disdain in his gaze when he looked at her, while in Donovan’s eyes she’d seen only desire and the kind of honesty that shook her to the core.

  Five minutes later, she turned from Lexington Avenue onto 41st Street. Lifting her gaze from the slush on the sidewalk, she pinpointed the neon sign lighting the subway station. And beyond it—

  “Donovan.” His name was a mere breath on her lips, and it misted in the frigid air.

  Her pulse picked up speed. She wasn’t even sure it was him. She saw his back, large and broad-shouldered, and she recognized the cut of his dark hair and the lines of his face when he turned his head. But a moment later, the man disappeared behind a set of massive steel doors. Roxi paused to catch her breath.

  The place he’d walked into looked like a dance club of some sort. It had no windows, and the dimly lit sign over the top of the doors read The Wolf’s Den. A smaller sign claimed it was “by invitation only”, which Roxi supposed meant it was an exclusive hotspot, open to celebrities and other important people.

  So the man she’d spotted couldn’t have been Donovan. He was a bodyguard, not a superstar. No way would he get his name on a list to party with New York’s elite.

  Obviously her disastrous date with Kastor was to blame for her mind summoning Donovan on a random street corner. And no wonder. She’d cast him in the role of protector, the kind of man who’d come to her rescue when she needed him. Except this was New York, and more than eight million people lived here. Donovan wasn’t her guardian angel, ready to sweep down and defend her from all manner of evil.

  She shook her head to clear it and promised herself that, for tonight at least, she was done with men.

  Chapter Four

  Two nights in a row spent at The Wolf’s Den had left Donovan in a worse mood than he’d been when he left Moderne on Saturday. His search for a suitable mate had proven fruitless…again. Then he’d witnessed another triumphant display of mating prowess on the Mating Stage, which hadn’t helped improve his mood. A second solo session in the men’s bathroom sealed the deal, and Donovan left early, heading home with his proverbial tail tucked firmly between his legs.

  In a city of millions, he couldn’t find a single shifter to lure his inner wolf. And yet the moment he pushed through the door into Moderne on Monday, the beast reared. When the first whiff of Roxi’s sweet smell reached his senses, Donovan felt his cock harden. His chest swelled and his heartbeat hammered an insistent rhythm against his rib cage. His wolf howled—a low, grumbling, possessive sound only Donovan could hear.

  Damn the creature. If Donovan didn’t know better, he’d think the wolf was doing this to mock him.

  “You are scowling.” Roxi leaned against the far wall of the harness room. She wore a red silk robe that did little to hide her luscious curves. “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” She blanched at his bark and he cursed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to frighten her. “Didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”

  “Ah.” She gave him a small smile that made his heart melt and his dick turn to tempered steel. “All play and no sleep makes Donovan a grumpy man.”

  “I’m not grumpy.” She raised an eyebrow, and he realized he’d pretty much growled the words at her. “Ill-tempered, maybe,” he conceded with some difficulty.

  She took a few steps toward the harness and gestured to it. “The doors will open in a few minutes and Brad is not here yet. Care to strap me in?”

  Brad was particular about the way he wanted Roxi displayed, but Donovan had done the honors once before when the artist had been stuck in traffic. Today, the thought of having his hands on her caused his wolf to buck hard against his chest. The urge to shift rippled over his skin. He gritted his teeth and forced a smile to his face. “Of course.”

  Roxi’s hand went to the strip of silk belting her robe. “You were out last night?” She asked the question casually, but he saw the flicker in her gaze and suspected she wasn’t just making polite conversation.

  “For a while.”

  “Down on 41st Street?”

  He arched his brows. Had she followed him? “How did you know?”

  She looked just as surprised and shook her head. “I did not think— I mean, I thought I saw you, but I was not sure. You were entering an exclusive venue.”

  “The Wolf’s Den.”

  “What is it?”

  “A club.” He took a deep breath, released it slowly. He’d never had to explain a shifter gathering place to a human before, and he sure as hell didn’t want to start now. “Exclusive, just like you said. They turn almost everyone away at the door.”

  “But not you.” Her fingers trembled slightly as she tugged on her belt. She suddenly looked shy, lowering her lashes while she toyed with the strip of silk. A silvery laugh slipped from her throat and she gazed up at him, eyes sparkling. “I almost asked you to turn around while I do this. Silly of me. You have seen so much more.” A delicate blush crept up her throat.

  Donovan had to keep his hands at his sides to keep from sliding them into her hair, pulling her to him and devouring her mouth.

  He turned around anyway, as much to keep from starting something he wouldn’t be able to stop, as for her modesty. Frustration mingled with shame at the memory of the way he’d acted the last time he’d touched her. He’d made assumptions about her that hadn’t been fair. Pushed by his wolf’s excitement, he’d nearly forced himself on her.

  God, if she hadn’t stopped him—

  “Donovan.”

  He shivered at the sound his name on her lips. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing it. She could utter it every which way she pleas
ed…in anger, joy, in the midst of an explosive orgasm, and it would always be the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

  He turned around—and forgot to breathe.

  She was ravishing, standing there naked like a Greek goddess from another century, a statue come to life. The pale skin covering her full, lush curves gleamed in the harsh overhead neon light. Her plump breasts lifted slightly with each breath and her firm nipples pebbled, daring him to suck them into his mouth.

  He told himself he wouldn’t glance down to stare at the fascinating hollow between her thighs. No way. He had enough control to keep his gaze where it belonged—fixed firmly on her beautiful face.

  So he did just that, only to have an image of Roxi on her knees, her cheeks and chin covered in his cum, flash before his eyes. Whatever restraint he thought he had fled as fantasy filled his vision.

  He didn’t have a chance in hell of muffling his groan.

  Roxi’s lip quirked in a half-smile she tried to hide. She darted a glance at the erection tenting his suit pants. The scent of her arousal wrapped around him like a foggy aphrodisiac, heady and compelling.

  He grabbed the harness, steadying it as Roxi climbed onto the satin body pillow. Not trusting himself to be anywhere near her legs, he started by positioning her right wrist in the leather cuff.

  She looked up at him and he couldn’t help but stare back. Her dark eyes shimmered with curiosity. “What happened to you?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  She placed the fingers of her free hand on the side of her neck. “You have been scratched, right here.”

  He swallowed hard, weighing honesty against the slew of questions she was likely to ask. He settled for an explanation that was mostly truth. “Got in a fight. It happens.”

  “Sure.” She frowned, and he had to fight the urge to smooth his thumb over the lines etched just above her pert nose. “It happens.”

  He didn’t miss the sarcasm in her voice. She obviously wanted to say something else, but footsteps ringing out in the next room brought them back to the task at hand.

  They’d wasted too much time. The gallery doors were open and they had work to do.

  His inner wolf growled, sending another dart of need straight to his groin. Donovan gritted his teeth. It was going to be a hell of a long day.

  * * * * *

  Every part of Roxi ached. The muscles in her arms and legs had started cramping about an hour ago, and no matter how much she tried to wiggle in the harness, she couldn’t get comfortable again.

  Had Donovan latched the cuffs too tightly? She usually felt at ease all the way through her shift, but today was different. Her body was restless, taut with tension and eager to move. Normally she could relax even while people fondled her most intimate bits, knowing Donovan wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. And yet all evening she’d stiffened the moment someone came near. The urge to tell whoever it was to back off lingered on her tongue, and she’d had to swallow it down repeatedly as the endless hours dragged on. She sighed, wondering if perhaps her date with Kastor hadn’t rattled her more than she’d realized.

  The sound of Donovan’s shoes rang out against the tile floor. She recognized his steps now, steady and sure, and when he stopped just beside her harness, she held her breath. Would he touch her again like he had last Saturday? Part of her wanted it.

  God, who was she kidding? All of her wanted it. Her pussy creamed at the thought and her skin broke out in goose bumps of anticipation.

  But Donovan went straight for the cuffs. He untied her in silence, his steady fingers never straying from their task.

  Disappointment lodged like a brick in her stomach. She stumbled out of the harness and yanked off her blindfold. Donovan held her robe out for her.

  She met his gaze. His gray eyes darkened with unmistakable lust. His lips parted slightly and he leaned in. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Roxi thought he was going to kiss her.

  But then he simply placed the robe over her shoulders and stepped back. The thin layer of silk might as well have been a metal shield, creating a solid barrier between them.

  “Would you date me?” She blurted out the question before taking even a fraction of a second to think about what she was saying, and now the words hung between them and she couldn’t take them back.

  Donovan’s eyes widened. For a long moment he only stared at her, and the silence between them stretched into infinity, making Roxi’s skin itch. If he said no, she’d have to find a hole to crawl into and never come out, because she was sure she’d never be able to face him again.

  He closed the distance between them and reached out to trail the backs of his fingers across her cheek. “You’re not meant for me.”

  Regret lingered clearly in his tone, but the words broke her heart. “Why not?”

  He sighed, and his eyes softened as he looked at her. “It’s complicated.”

  “Explain, then. I am a good listener.” When he didn’t say anything, she stifled the urge to grab him by the lapels of his black suit jacket and shake him so he’d talk to her. “You want me, yes?”

  He stood close enough that when he expelled the breath he’d been holding, it warmed her lips. “God, yes.”

  “Then why not more?”

  Donovan opened his mouth to answer but she didn’t think she could take another excuse, another rejection. So instead, Roxi pressed a finger to his lips. She wound her other hand around his neck, careful to avoid the deep red gouges. His skin was impossibly warm. Aware that there was still too much space between them, she pressed her body against his.

  The length of his throbbing erection was unmistakable. Her pussy answered with a pulse of its own. The muscles of her belly tightened as arousal swirled in her sex.

  He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just closed his eyes and gave a low, sultry growl, as though resigning himself to his fate. At that moment, he was the art. A marble sculpture from ancient times, strikingly beautiful, every line carved to perfection.

  She wanted nothing more than to strip that suit from him and simply stare at the wealth of masculinity. Maybe Brad should consider adding Donovan’s stunning male form to his interactive art display. She’d bet her last dime that women would line up around the block for a chance to fondle Donovan’s assets.

  The thought sent a surge of jealousy through her. All right, so she wouldn’t be dropping that particular idea into Brad’s suggestion box anytime soon.

  “Woman, you don’t understand what you’re playing with.”

  She hardly recognized Donovan’s voice. It came out guttural and hoarse, with a growling timbre beneath each word. The sound caused a shiver to run down her spine and burrow into her sex.

  Roxi tightened her grip on his nape. Her lips were a breath away from his mouth now. “I am asking you out on a date. That is what single people do, no?” A forgotten thought struck her, and she sucked in a breath. “Tell me you are single.”

  He cracked open an eyelid. On anyone else, it would have been comical. On Donovan, it looked both menacing and sexy as hell. “I have no mate,” he said, sounding sadder than she’d have expected.

  Her heart picked up speed. “Then you can give me a single, solitary date. Just one.” He didn’t protest, so she took that as a good sign and continued. “Coffee, tomorrow morning, 9:00 a.m. at Mocha Time, between Lexington and 3rd.”

  He still didn’t say a word, so Roxi lifted herself on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on his lips. The brief contact made her head reel and her pussy heat, but she forced herself to pull back.

  Donovan’s silence ended the moment their lips met. A grunt and a feral growl were her only warnings before he wrapped his arm around her waist, yanked her closer and claimed her lips in a punishing kiss.

  He kissed her fast and deep and hard, his tongue sliding against hers and filling her with the flavor of him. She tasted his heat, his need, and couldn’t get enough. Shivers shot across her nerve endings. Her body arched against Donovan’s, needing fu
rther contact with every part of him. She wanted to drown in him, to kiss him until she ran out of air, and then kiss him some more.

  She gripped a handful of his hair and held on while he ravaged her mouth. His hands slid down her back and cupped her ass, pulling her closer so her mound pressed against the hard length of his erection. The rough way he handled her only heightened her lust.

  When he finally tore his mouth away, she was panting. Her body had turned soft and pliant, quivering with need.

  “One date,” Donovan said, setting her away from him.

  Roxi was glad to hear his voice tremble just a touch. She nodded, because that’s all she was capable of.

  Donovan shook his head. “It’s a bad idea.”

  Chapter Five

  He wasn’t coming.

  Roxi sat at her usual table, a newspaper spread out before her, a milky latté in a yellow mug within easy reach. She took a sip of the frothy concoction and forced her attention to the paper, and not to the street where it had been glued for the last ten minutes.

  Her gaze strayed anyway, this time to the coffee counter. A barista moved quickly, expertly balancing the syrups and myriad flavor shots as she filled orders. The clock above her head read nearly a quarter past nine.

  Roxi tapped her nails against the table. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to tell her he wouldn’t be showing up this morning. He’d said as much when he claimed dating her was a terrible idea. And yet here she was anyway, looking out the window like a lovesick puppy, hoping against all odds he’d change his mind.

  But he wouldn’t. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear he was only interested in sex. No doubt insanely mind-blowing, phenomenal sex, but still just sex.

  She was the one who’d pushed for more, and she’d obviously been an idiot to think he was interested in anything other than her body. Most size-fourteen women would have probably been thrilled to have a guy like Donovan admiring their curves. And she was…but was it so horrible to yearn for something more meaningful?