I turn to the left and look into the same deep brown eyes. "I'm fine. He just shook me up."
"He may have torn something in your shoulder." He presses it lightly with his fingers. "I'd get it checked out if it's sore tomorrow."
"Are you a doctor?" I know he's probably on a date with someone. The dark suit he's wearing doesn't hide his muscular frame.
"No." A small grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. "I’m a firefighter. I'm Dane."
"Bridget," I say with a wince as I try to move my arm to shake his hand.
"I'm taking you to the ER now." He pulls on the back of my chair. "Come with me."
I don't protest. Why would I? He's a fireman and he wants to rescue me. I may actually have to thank Zoe for this date, after all.
Preview of VAIN – Available Now
Featuring Noah Foster
"You're staring at my dick."
I am. I can't even deny it. I guess I can come up with some excuse. Maybe I can pretend to be my best friend, Sadie, and say that I'm studying to be a doctor and I'm doing a thorough, visual exam of his enormous, erect penis. Who answers the door naked? He must have been masturbating. Do people do that? Do they masturbate while they wait for a sandwich to be delivered?
"Sweetheart. Up here." His hand floats past his crotch and my eyes slowly drift along with it, like I'm a fish dangling on a hook.
"What?" My voice isn't my own. I sound all breathy and aroused.
"How much?" He motions towards me and I reel myself back into the reality of the moment. After I finished my dinner with Sadie and her husband, I offered to deliver the sandwich for them when their regular delivery guy went home sick. Knowing the owner of Axel Boston certainly had its perks. I got a free dinner and now this. No tip required at all. Thank you, sir with the naked cock.
"You already paid," I say as I try to keep my gaze focused on his dark brown eyes. The hair on his head almost matches the color of his eyes, which matches the hair that surrounds his…
"No." He walks towards a large round table in the foyer of his apartment. Technically, it's the penthouse since I had to ride the elevator with the doorman and his special key. I wonder what this guy does for a living that affords him the luxury of living here. Maybe he's a porn star. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Alexa," I offer. "What's your name?"
He turns quickly as he stops dead in his tracks. I was admiring his perfectly sculpted ass until he turned back around and now I get to stare at his cock again. I might have to take that job delivering sandwiches after all.
"My name is none of your fucking business," he barks at me.
I take a step back when I realize that I've offended him. The fact that I'm practically drooling all over his naked body doesn't bother him at all, but when I ask his name he flips out? I'll just pretend that I can't hear him and use the rest of the time at the door to soak in his body before I go home and tease myself for hours until I…
"How much?" His voice interrupts me yet again and I wonder now if maybe he doesn't understand English.
"I said," I speak loudly and slowly. "You. Already. Paid. For. It."
"Get your pretty little ass in here." He grabs me by my arm and yanks me into his apartment. I turn and stare as the door flies shut behind me.
"I have plans." I tap my black stiletto impatiently on the marble floor. I was supposed to drop off this sandwich and then meet some sorority sisters for a welcome back party. This is only my second night back in Boston after being in Paris for months. I need some good, old-fashioned American fun.
"You're going to bail because of it, aren't you?" He turns and stares right through me. "I'm paying you to fuck me. It's going to be worth it, Alexa."
"What?" I steal one more glance at his cock before I decide that being called a two-bit floozy isn't worth the chance to get fucked by that. "What the hell is your problem?"
"Women like you always bolt when they see it." His voice is deep and low. It bites right through me. "The agency said you'd be fine with it when I requested a blonde."
"I brought you a sandwich." I throw the bag at him and it bounces off his muscular chest before it falls to the marble floor. "Your hooker isn't here yet. I'm not her."
"You brought me a sandwich?" He stares at the crumpled mess on the floor. "I thought you were someone else."
"Obviously," I shoot back as I turn on my heel to leave. "For the record, I wouldn't bolt seeing a cock like that normally."
"I wasn't talking about my dick," he growls.
I pivot back and stare at him. "What then?"
"The scar," he hisses as he tilts his head back. "Women always run when they see the scar."
"What scar?" I've stared at his cock long enough to realize that it's perfect and scar free.
"This scar." His hand jumps to his face before his index finger traces a line down a scar running the length of his cheek.
"Is that why you walk around with your cock flying every which way?" I turn the doorknob in my hand. "It's a good tactic."
"Alexa," he says my name just as I'm stepping over the threshold into the hallway. "Stay."
Preview of RUIN – Available Now
Featuring Ben Foster
"I keep a room at a hotel in mid-town. We can go there."
The words are decisive and seductive. The subtle hum of his voice catering to the need that is inside of me. The same need that drove me away from Boston and back into the uneven clutches of Manhattan.
I glance at my watch. Fifty-nine minutes. It's been fifty-nine minutes since he sat next to me on this flight. Thirty-one minutes since he told me he's always been attracted to brunettes. Twenty-five minutes since I knew that having his cock inside of me would chase away all the deepest memories of the man I left behind.
"I have a driver meeting me." The assumption is there. He's moved effortlessly from asking if I'm interested to expecting it. He knows how utterly attractive he is. The eager glances of the flight attendant who tried to divert his attention from me spoke of the pull that is there within him, whether he's consciously sending out signals or not.
I nod. It's not unlike me. He's not the first man I've slept with within moments of meeting. It's always filled a temporary hunger. This time is different though. This time I'm doing it to numb the ache.
"I'm Ben, by the way." He extends his hand in a graceful, yet misplaced, greeting.
I reach for it, entrusting my own in his. "I'm Kayla."
"Pretty," he says.
I take the compliment along with the gentle touch. He won't be like this in bed. I can sense it already. There's a darkness behind his eyes that promises skill, pleasure and a bite of flashing pain. It's everything I need all wrapped into a six foot four inch, muscular, brown haired, brown eyed stranger.
"Is anyone expecting you?"
My eyes flit across his face pulling nothing from his stoic expression. He's asking if there's a complication waiting for me when the plane touches down at LaGuardia. There's nothing waiting for me here. No one knows that I've run from my life in Boston. I haven't told a soul that the man I loved left me beneath the shadow of an excuse about chasing his own happiness. He'd changed overnight. The once beautiful, confident soul that held me in his arms and promised me a lifetime has been replaced with a cold, distant selfish asshole.
"No," I whisper the word as if that will lessen the pain that is attached to it. "There's no one."
"I need to make a few calls once we land." His hand dives into an inner pocket of his Armani suit jacket to retrieve his smart phone. "I'll do that while you grab your luggage."
I pull my hands over the smooth denim of my worn jeans. I look ordinary next to him. I'll disappear into the crowds of the airport the moment we depart from the plane. He'll command the attention of many. He wants that. It's part of who he is.
"I don't have any checked bags," I begin before I realize the words sound comfortable and intimate in a way that I don't want them to. "I'll wait outside for you."
H
e flashes a grin. "You won't run away on me?"
I'm not Parker. Parker, my piece of shit boyfriend, ran away on me. He told me he loved me. He promised me forever and then he ran away.
"I promise I won't." I exhale. "I'll be right there waiting for you."
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About the Author
Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.
She cherishes her family and believes that each day is a gift for writing, for reading, and for loving.
Chance Page 18