Forbidden Flaws

by Pepper Winters

  "Back. The. Fuck. Off."

  Both the creep’s head and mine shot up, searching in the direction of the growled command.

  My heart instantly tripped over itself; my eyes drank in a man wearing a white terrycloth dressing gown with the hotel’s emblem on the front. He was tall—taller than the asshole pestering me—and towered over my dainty size. I noticed all the usual traits—grim full mouth, dominant blue eyes, and bone structure bordering on the rugged line of perfection—but it was the things I felt that froze me to the spot.

  Something strong and eager unfurled inside me.

  He wore an effortless cape of violence, cascading off his shoulders like some superhero. His bare feet were gorgeously formed and symmetrical. His hands were fisted by his sides, while every muscle stood out in preparation for a fight. Not to mention the shaggy dirty blond hair or the minor bruising on his cheekbone, turning him from roughly delectable to dangerously unpredictable.

  I clutched my magazine harder as his eyes landed on mine. Time slowed to a never-ceasing whisper as his gaze trailed from my mouth to my breasts to my stomach and swept down to my toes.

  I forgot all about the creep as I remained locked in his powerful stare. He stood as if he were used to the world bowing at his feet. He moved as if he had every right to be smug and self-assured because he’d beaten life into submission and won.

  I wished I had that confidence. I wanted to steal it from him. I wanted to duck under its protection.

  Shit, get a grip.

  Blinking, I glared at the newcomer. He glared right back, sending shivers down my spine.

  "Who the fuck are you?" Creep asked, facing his newfound opponent.

  The man didn’t tear his blue eyes from mine; his nostrils flared as if seeing past my choice of undergarments and seeing the real me.

  The real me!

  In a split second, I shed everything I knew and stepped into a new role. The role of a woman who belonged to the man breathing shallowly and oozing with violence—the woman who’d been waiting for her lover in the corridor on the fourteenth floor.

  "David! Damn, you took long enough." Throwing the magazine at Creep, I strode confidently and purposely toward the man I’d decided would be my ticket to freedom. He didn’t blink as I threw my arms around his waist.

  It was like hugging granite.

  The dressing gown gave no comfort or softness to the insane strength and rigidness of masculine muscles beneath.

  Damn, what did this guy do for a living?

  He didn’t move for an interminable second, then, as if we’d scripted and played this part all our lives, his arm came up and wrapped lovingly around my shoulders. "Lace, I told you to go back to the room." The weight of his hold pinned my head in place, trapping my blonde hair.

  I fluttered my eyelashes, looking up into his deep blue gaze, while cursing my racing heart. "I know. But then this gentleman decided to detain me."

  Swallowing, I commanded my nervous system to calm the hell down. My stomach was a riot of frothy bubbles, my heart full of moth wings and palpations.

  He affected me.

  I wanted to hate him for that. But I couldn’t. How could I hate someone who gave me back a smidgen of life just by existing?

  His fingers dug into my arm as his embrace tightened. It wasn’t romantic or protective—purely possessive and aching with the urge to harm. "Oh, did he now?" His eyes narrowed at Creep. "Care to tell me why you detainedmy woman when she clearly said she wanted nothing to do with you?"

  My woman.

  I’d always hated the caveman mentality of mine, yours, belonging—so why did my knees feel a little less substantial than they did three seconds ago?

  Creep scowled. "Look, man. Any woman wearing shit like that attracts attention." His eyes landed on my thigh, searing into my skin like a brand. "It’s a fucking invitation."

  Oh, shit.

  I didn’t know this man I clung to—I had no idea of his temperament or morals, but I knew not to antagonise him. I was just a stranger to him, yet his entire body stiffened with undiluted rage.

  "What the fuck are you implying? That every woman caught in a fire alarm wearing sexy as hell lingerie has a sign on her forehead saying ‘please fucking rape me because I’m gagging for it?’"

  My heart stopped beating. His voice dripped with menace and threats.

  I squirmed under his heavy arm, trying to get free. The pressure of an imminent attack clouded the corridor with testosterone.

  I didn’t want to be the cause of anyone’s pain—regardless if Creep had been a douche-bag. He was partly right, I supposed. Strutting around wearing practically nothing could be seen as inappropriate, and to those with loose convictions, an invitation.

  Guilt swarmed me for causing this mess.

  "David, it’s fine. Just a misunderstanding." I patted my saviour’s chiselled granite chest, shaking out the tingles in my fingertips from touching him.

  The man never tore his attention from Creep’s.

  "No, Lace," he growled. "It’s not. He disrespected you and any other woman wanting to wear something hot. That’s not fucking okay."

  My stomach tangled with my heart, turning me into a pretzel. His voice sounded as gruff and thick as any Neanderthal, but intelligence shone bright in his eyes.

  Interest and fascination spread fast through my body.

  Who is this man?

  Creep took a step back, his hands flying up in the universal sign of surrender. "Fuck it, man. Keep the slut. I can get plenty more."

  My eyes closed. Fantastic. There was the line, and he’d just waltzed right over it.

  David’s arm crushed my shoulders, moulding my form to his until I was sure I’d be forever glued—like a piece of lichen clinging to unmovable rock.

  "Don’t—" I said, fighting against a mouthful of dressing gown.

  David didn’t pay any attention. This was no longer about keeping me safe—but winning. He bristled with the urge to hurt, and Creep was his target.

  "Let it go, man. You don’t know who you’re messing with." Creep walked backward, one hand fumbling in his pocket for a room key.

  David chuckled, the baritone echoing through his chest straight into mine. "Funny, I was just going to say the same to you." He dragged me forward, stalking Creep down the corridor. "You don’t know who you’remessing with."

  I did.

  David was a man intent on pain. A man who was an expert at delivering it.

  How did I know? Instinct mainly, and the sight of bruised and scraped knuckles. He’d been in another fight this evening.

  I inhaled sharply. His smell trickled up my nose, clouding my lungs with all things peril and ferocious. He smelled of soap and…was that watermelon?

  I wriggled, pushing against him.

  Every step of his, I took two, awkwardly skipping by his side, closer and closer to Creep. I wanted to close my eyes, but morbidly, I couldn’t look away.

  Creep turned sharply, stabbing his plastic key into a lock and pressing frantically on the door handle.

  He wasn’t fast enough.

  David tapped him on the shoulder, and never letting go of me, ploughed his fist right into his face. "Don’t harass another woman who says no, you fucker."

  I winced as the crunch of a broken nose and the wet splatter of blood sprayed across David’s dressing gown.

  "Ow, you motherfucker!" Creep swung up, his eyes watering with pain. The fist swung in my direction. I squeaked, burrowing into David’s chest.

  The strike never connected.

  The stomach curdling sound of another fist hitting home sent Creep from consciousness to dream world. He sprawled in a suit-tangled pile at David’s naked feet.

  Oh, my God.

  "What did you do?" I breathed, looking frantically up and down the corridor. "Hotel security will have seen that. We better go."

  Squirming again, I said, "Let me go."

  His grip tightened, then released—his large arm draping off my shoulders
, leaving me feeling tiny and cold without his immense strength and heat. "Stay."

  Stay? Like a well-trained poodle?

  No chance.

  What other choice do you have? Stroll nonchalant to the lift and ask reception for a spare key? What if I came across Creep Number Two?

  While my brain charged after useless thoughts, David stooped down, pinched the key card laying beside his unconscious victim, and inserted it smoothly and unhurriedly into the lock.

  The light turned green, and he opened the door, backing in and keeping it wide with the aid of his foot.

  With an effortless yank, he pulled Creep’s body inside and left him in a crumbled heap.

  I stared at the bloody man on the floor as the closing door hid him from view. "Don’t you think we should tell someone what happened? He might need a doctor."

  David didn’t reply.

  Instead, he checked the door was locked, then in a flash grabbed my wrist with extremely long and exceptionally powerful fingers.

  "Hey!" I tugged on his hold. "Let me go."

  All thoughts of thanking him for his help flew out of my mind. What the hell was he doing?

  He cocked his head. "I’ve seen a lot of women in various states of undress this morning, but none as fine as you."

  I narrowed my eyes at his messy blond hair and the five o’ clock shadow bristling on his jaw. His eyes were rich—a blue that seemed depthless—like a puddle that led to hellish temptation. "I appreciate what you did for me and for playing along, but I need you to let go."

  "No."

  "No?" My heart bounced uselessly around in my chest. "What do you mean no?"

  He scowled, striding down the corridor, further and further from my room. "I mean exactly that. No, I will not let you go."

  Shit.

  I looked over my shoulder, willing another Good Samaritan to appear from the emergency exit and save me. This damn underwear. Never again. I would stick to tatty t-shirts and torn shorts.

  "You can’t do this."

  He just kept walking, carting me away as if I were a balloon drifting demurely behind him.

  Slowing, he pulled a key card from his pocket and slotted it into the reader. The instant the green light flashed, I snapped. Twisting in his grip, I used the element of surprise to break away and bolt.

  "Fuck," he muttered. The soft footfalls of his steps gave chase. I didn’t get far.

  In a second, he caught me, yanking me to a stop and clamping his large hands on my shoulders. "Stop, will you?"

  Breathing hard, I struggled in his hold. "Just because you saved me from that guy, you think you can get what he was after?"

  His lips pursed, leaning over me until his face was mere inches from mine. "No, I’m not a fucking cunt like he was."

  I stopped breathing as ferocity rippled around him. I preferred it when that anger was directed at someone else. Taking a deep breath, I tried to stay calm. "What do you want then?"

  His thumbs moved, tracing circles on my shoulders where he held me. "Do you want a truthful answer or a lie?"

  I froze. What sort of response was that?

  He watched me as if he could see past my smoke and mirrors. Did he sense I wished I had more of what he did? More of his confidence? His commanding control?

  What does he want?

  "The truth. Give me the truth."

  One hand fell from my shoulders, moving upward to sweep the messy hair that’d flopped over his forehead. His other thumb never stopped its ceaseless torment of caressing circles. "First, you can answer some of my questions. Then I’ll decide if you deserve the truth."

  I swallowed hard as he inched closer, his bare legs flashing beneath the wrap of his robe.

  Oh, God. Was he naked under that thing?

  Dropping his voice from angry to alluring, he murmured, "Where exactly were you running off to in your—I must admit—sexy as fuck underwear?" The corner of his lips twitched, showing a side I hadn’t seen. A side that had the potential potency to sweep the world from under my feet and deliver me into corruption.

  "Fire alarm," I breathed. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "You know—the loud shrieking noise that promised our imminent doom if we didn’t flee the building?"

  His lips twitched a little more. "I heard it. And I get that part." His eyes trailed from mine to my cleavage, a steely glint entering their blue depths. "What I was asking was, why are you practically naked?"

  My mind went blank, eyes landing on the hotel emblem on his robe.

  He followed my attention, his voice dropping to gravel. "It was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I’m guessing every room has one." The intense interest in his gaze pinned me to the floor. "Either you didn’t see it, or decided against it. In which case, that leads me to believe two things about you."

  My heart stole all my energy with its over beating thrum. "Really? And what’s that?"

  He smiled lopsidedly. It transformed his face from scary fighter to charming seducer. "That you’re either unobservant or secretly wanted men to look. Wanted to see how badly they’d react to a fucking gorgeous woman when blatantly faced with nipples as tight as yours and a pussy as inviting as the one hidden behind that ridiculous lace."

  My breath caught at such crude conversation. It flowed from his mouth like aged port, reeking of time-mellowed barbarianism.

  He licked his lips, running his hand expertly from my shoulder to the nape of my neck. His fingers closed around the base of my spine, keeping me in place, sending shockwaves of need right to my toes.

  I’d never been held like that and never by a complete stranger. I’d never been talked to that way or watched like I was delicious prey. And I certainly never thought I’d stand by and permit it.

  The urge to scream wasn’t there. The instinct to run mysteriously absent. He’d tied me up with mystery and sex appeal.

  When I didn’t respond, he murmured, "Which is it? Innocent or temptress?" The muscles in his neck tensed as he swallowed, giving away a flicker of knowledge that his words were weapons, but I wasn’t the only one turned on.

  What did he hide beneath that robe? How affected was he standing so close to me with no one around and no rules to obey.

  My mouth opened but no sound came out.

  He tightened his hold on my neck, moving me closer until my body pressed against his. "Want to know what I think?"

  I bit my lip as something hard and most definitely male pressed against my lower belly.

  "I think you’re completely clueless. You have no idea what you’re doing, or how you look dressed like that. You’re more afraid of yourself and what others think of you than how much danger you could invite being dressed like an untouchable whore."

  Fire flashed through my system. "I am not a whore."

  He nodded. "I know that; I’ve figured you out."

  No, you haven’t.

  His eyes gleamed; a pink tongue ran over his bottom lip. "You ran from your room when the alarm woke you up, probably more focussed on your belongings rather than safety or dress code. You bolted without thinking of taking your key, and now have the dilemma of being stranded with no way of hiding and trapped by a man who has no self-control, decency, or the pretence of being a gentleman."

  I should’ve been scared, terrified—but instead, I felt exposed and desperate for more of his insight. He read me so well. I couldn’t permit that with my new world. I couldn’t let others see past my projection and guess what a fraud I was.

  "What gave me away?" I honestly wanted to know. For some reason, I lost the sense of danger and sought his help to hide the things I wanted to keep hidden.

  His eyebrow rose. "What?"

  Looking into his deep blue gaze, I said, "You were right. About everything. How did you know?"

  He chuckled—the sound existed between sin and seduction. "Okay…" His fingers massaged the back of my neck, drawing me back a little to look at my breasts. "This is how I knew. You don’t have storage for a key, and as perfect as your tits
are, I don’t see a key card stuffed between them." He smirked. "You wear uncertainty like a perfume, you move as if you’re only just getting used to being a woman, and you’re scared shitless of being seen."

  Leaning closer, he whispered, "I smell it on you. The doubt. The lack of confidence."

  My heart broke. "Really?"

  Shit, everything I thought I’d achieved in the past few days came toppling down in lies. How did I land the lead role if I’d been so transparent?

  His fingers released me, dropping from my neck and leaving me bereft. He nodded. "It’s a gift. I sense others’ weaknesses." Lowering his voice, he added, "I catalogue them, so I can use them against my opponent. No one is what they seem."

  He’d shown my biggest fear. The terror that I would get to Hollywood and someone would point and expose me. That my dreams of living other characters’ lives and not having to confront mine would explode in my face.

  Something fierce and hot glowed in his eyes. "By the way, my name isn’t David."

  The switch of topics slammed me back to reality. I laughed quietly. "It was the only name I could think of at the time." Suddenly wishing for the protection of the magazine I’d thrown at Creep, I added, "My name’s not Lace."

  "Pity, it would’ve been rather convenient if it had." His gaze narrowed, temper etching his face. His voice turned husky and dark. "It suits you, though. That lacey bra is doing my fucking head in." He ran a hand through his hair again, trying to tame the mess of blond. "You can’t see past your issues, but I can assure you, you have more power than you think."

  Something sparked and tingled in my belly. It was beneath me to fish for compliments, but after what’d happened, I needed to hear something good.

  "What power?"

  He made a guttural noise in the back of his throat. "Fuck, woman. You might be naïve, but you’re not stupid. Do you want me to describe the affect you and your barely usable lace is having on me, or would you rather see evidence?" His hands shot to the white belt wrapped around his hips. "After all, fair’s fair. I see you. I should return the favour."

  I gulped.

  Oh, my God. He was naked under that thing.

  The image of his muscular body being on display, along with the tantalising guess of whatever equipment he had between his legs, stole my breath.