“Me.” His overt nonchalance was far too nonchalant-y for her to believe it. He cared that she was going to be touching him.
As he started the bike and pulled out of the garage, she wrapped her arms around his waist. He flinched under her touch yet tolerated it. From Severin Leduc, tolerance felt like a small victory. She wished she dared to slide a hand under his shirt to feel all that muscle bared to her, but she knew better than to try it.
As he drove, the cold made her glad she could use him as a human windshield. The man threw off heat like a blast furnace, but she still wished she’d brought gloves. His proximity and the low growl of the bike between her legs kept her on edge all the way into town. He parked in the mall parking lot and walked toward the building without glancing back to make sure she was following. She trotted along at his heels like a good service human, and tried to dispel the sexy mental image of being on the end of this man’s leash.
He strode through the crowd milling around the entrance. People automatically melted out of his way. Handy. Maybe the next time she went to a concert she’d bring him along so she could get closer to the stage.
A shoe store had a BOGO event, and she gazed into the window just long enough to collide with Severin’s chest when he unexpectedly stopped and turned to face her. She bounced off, and he had to steady her so she didn’t end up on her ass.
“Ow.” She rubbed her forehead. “Do I have an imprint of your nipple ring on my forehead?”
He arched a brow in mocking amusement. “You should be paying attention to me, not sales. Service humans aren’t supposed to get distracted.”
“I’m poorly trained.”
“We’ll have to fix that.”
They stared at each other, and the flutter in her lower belly amplified.
Don’t think about leashes, Minnow. Don’t think of him training you to his own specifications.
“Why are we here?”
“Sutton thinks I need new clothes.”
“Oh, do you?” she asked innocently. “I thought you dressed like this on purpose.”
“How do I dress?”
“It’s a hardcore shabby chic...without the chic.” She gestured at the worn leather jacket and ripped denim, but refrained from including the wild hair escaping its braid and the goggles on his chest. Then there were his cold blue eyes. His uncivilized air. His height. His build. There was no way to make this man blend in.
“I detest shopping, so I brought you to do it for me. Be grateful I don’t wander around naked.”
“Grateful isn’t the word I’d use,” she murmured.
“What did you say?”
“What kind of clothes are you looking for?” she said quickly.
He shrugged. “What I have, but newer.”
“Where do you normally shop?”
A couple unwittingly walked too close, and Severin straightened where he stood, then angled himself to shield Minnow, looking ready to deal with a threat. The couple glanced up then hurried off.
“I don’t know. I think I got these from Church for Christmas a few years ago.”
She snorted then realized he wasn’t joking. “Don’t rich people shop at boutiques rather than the mall?”
“How would I know? I never got lessons in how to be rich. It’s surprisingly unintuitive.” His tone was joking, but there was something jagged at the heart of it.
“Well, if you’re looking for help spending money, I’m your girl,” she said lightly. “Let’s start with a jeans store. What size are you?”
“I’d have to look at the tag on these.”
“Those don’t fit!” Minnow laughed and led the way into the store behind him.
He looked down at himself. “They stay up fine with a belt.” He tapped the buckle, and she had trouble dragging her gaze away.
“Can I help you?” a young saleswoman asked, looking directly at Minnow. From the stiff way she held herself and the way she ducked her head she was more than aware of Severin, she just knew better than to look a beast in the eye.
“There’s nothing wrong with belts,” Severin continued, as though he hadn’t noticed the saleswoman walk over to them. “You seemed to like mine just fine the other day.”
The saleswoman turned a violent shade of crimson.
Was it hot in the store? It was hot in the store. Minnow resisted the urge to fan herself, and noticed the saleswoman wouldn’t meet her gaze anymore either. Great.
Minnow frowned at Severin, and the corner of his mouth twitched. The bastard.
“My friend here needs jeans, and he has no idea what size he is.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice low. “My service dog here probably knows better than I do.”
Was that innuendo? The saleswoman sure thought it was.
“Stop it,” Minnow warned under her breath. “You’re embarrassing the poor woman.”
“What?” he whispered back in that non-whisper men with big voices thought was quiet but really just drew more attention to what they were saying. “What did I say?”
She smacked his arm and his expression grew menacing.
Shit. No touching. She grabbed her own offending hand, feeling as if it had gotten away on her. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“Don’t forget again or you’ll be punished.”
Punished? She shivered. Hell, this man was deliberately fucking with her submissive tendencies. He had to be.
Before she could think of something to say, he stalked off after the saleswoman, who grabbed a pair of jeans off a pile and held them out to him like an offering to a wrathful deity.
“Why is this woman trying to sell me jeans that have holes in them?” he called to Minnow as she approached. “I already have jeans with holes. I’m here to get jeans without holes.”
“It’s the style, s-sir,” the saleswoman stammered. “There may be some that aren’t as distressed.” She scurried off, doubtlessly to flee for her life.
The saleswoman calling Severin ‘sir’ made Minnow want to claw her eyes out. Like she had any right to be jealous, or reason to be from this poor woman?
“Hear that? We can go home. Tell Sutton I’m in style,” he grumbled. “Distressed is in.”
“Hey, that means I’ve been emotionally in style since I started working for you.”
“Ha.”
Minnow held up a T-shirt to check the size, wondering if anything in the store would even fit him.
“Not that.”
She looked at the blue T-shirt. It had a paler blue logo on it. “What’s wrong with this?”
“It’s too...busy.”
“There’s one little logo on it.”
“Yes. It’s fussy. I don’t like it, and it’s too cheery.”
“It’s dark blue.”
He grimaced. “Black or gray only. Not white. White gets stained.”
“The blood of your enemies doesn’t wash out well?”
“No. Then Sutton gets all pissy about it.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Usually.”
She piled her arms full of clothes he only seemed to dislike rather than loathe, then shooed him into a fitting room.
“I’m not trying this shit on.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’ll just buy it, and if it doesn’t fit I’ll give it to Sutton to get rid of.”
“Quit being a weirdo and try on some clothes.”
The tension in his body increased dramatically. He didn’t like this idea, apparently, or he didn’t like her getting bossy.
“Come on, just the jeans?” she asked, holding up three pairs. “Whichever ones fit best we’ll buy a bunch of, and you won’t have to come back for a while.”
He glowered at her, and she was pretty sure if he’d been able to breathe fire out of his nostrils she’d have been incinerated.
“Just try on these three pairs of jeans and we can go look for the next thing.”
“If I do this, you owe me.” He moved closer, crowding her but not touching.
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“Oh, do I? And what exactly will I owe you if you agree to try on jeans...for you?”
“You have to wear something I buy you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
He grunted and walked into the fitting room, kicked off his boots, then started stripping out of his jeans. As soon as she could drag her gaze away from his taut stomach and the vee of muscle leading downward, she slammed the door closed and held it, since he apparently he had no qualms about people seeing his dick.
“Show me the pair you like best.”
He didn’t answer.
“Did you hear me?”
“I’m busy.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to try the skinny jeans. You might have too much muscle to fit in those.”
A pair of jeans came sailing over the top of the fitting room door and landed at her feet.
“No skinny jeans.”
“Hey, they’re sexy on the right guy.”
“I’ll never be the right guy for skinny jeans, Miss Korsgaard.”
He pushed the door and she stepped away. He was wearing the same jeans he’d had on when he went in.
“None of them fit?”
“These are fine.” He handed a pair to her.
“Do they fit?”
“Close enough.”
“You could try on a size smaller?”
“No.”
Just no. No argument. His patience had apparently timed out.
She grabbed five other identical pairs of jeans, about twelve T-shirts he didn’t say no to, and then paid after he handed her a wad of cash and stalked out of the store. When she came out with the bags, he was standing alone against the far wall of the hallway, watching her.
“You okay?” she asked.
“It’s loud in here and it smells weird.”
“You spend all day hammering metal and breathing in fumes from your forge and you find the mall loud and smelly?”
Then again, people didn’t stare at him when he was in his garage. And people were staring – women in fascinated horror, men with distrust or aggression. She’d gotten so used to him that sometimes she forgot what other people saw. To her, he was just hot. His attention was focused only on her, even though a leggy redhead with a tight dress walked between them. It was like he hadn’t even noticed the woman, even though she’d given him an appreciative once over.
“Where to now?” she asked. “What else do you need? Boots? A coat?”
“Sutton wanted me to get a haircut, but not today.”
“It’s fine to leave it long, but you’d have to tie it better to make it look neat.” She held out the bags and he took them from her. “I could do it for you.”
“You’re going to be my valet?” he asked. “You’re too pretty for that.”
Pretty? The statement had come out so awkwardly that it meant more than some flatterer eloquently praising her. Knowing Severin, he’d probably never said the word pretty in his life except to be sarcastic. “And I’m too smart too, but hey, you’re the boss.”
“True. And you really seem to like it when I order you around.”
So flirty today. What had gotten into the brute?
“I have to admit, being ordered around while I’m fully dressed is a new one for me,” she said, without missing a beat. If he wanted to play that game, she was more than able to keep up. “Kinky, but I can handle it.”
“You really think you can handle me, don’t you,” he said. “Hellion. You’re not afraid of me anymore.”
“Hellion? Is that what you think my first name is?”
“Well, Hel Korsgaard would be better than Minnow. Very Norwegian. A bit of armor and a flying horse and you could moonlight as a Valkyrie.”
“If I was a Valkyrie, you wouldn’t be able to boss me around. I definitely wouldn’t let a man treat me like you do.”
“What have I done that’s so terrible?”
“Giving me the silent treatment because I gave you a blowjob wasn’t very nice.”
Abruptly, he veered off and walked down a service hallway. She followed, unsure. Was he looking for a restroom?
He stopped, then turned on her and dropped the bags. Using his body to corral her in, he backed her against the wall without touching her. He put his hands on the wall to either side of her head, trapping her there. His face was close – too close – and for a heart stopping moment she was sure he’d kiss her. The need for his lips on hers made her feel like her bones were melting.
“You’re making me crazy on purpose.”
“You were crazy long before I came along, sir.”
He was breathing hard, and she wished she could reach down and grab his cock. His eyes were wild. Every time his chest rose, it brushed against hers, and she wanted to drag him even closer.
“Sir?” he finally managed to say.
Shit. She shrugged like the slip was no big deal. “You’re my boss. Sir is respectful, isn’t it?”
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“What am I doing on purpose?”
He smacked his hand against the wall. “Why do you smell like that?”
“Like what?”
He leaned closer, inhaling near her hair. She froze, pressing her hands flat against the wall behind her, afraid she’d forget herself and touch him. The sight of his bared stomach in the fitting room had made this no touching thing even harder. The man had so many ridges of hard muscle hiding under his baggy T-shirt it boggled her mind. She needed to explore them, count them maybe. His face was in her neck, and she was desperate for something – any kind of contact from him.
He breathed her in and shuddered, then dragged his tongue up the side of her neck, tasting her.
It felt like he was barely in control of himself, and, like an idiot, that excited her. She probably shouldn’t be sticking her hand in the wolf’s cage, but he was a magnificent beast. And it was her job, right? Yes. This was about work. Totally.
“If you didn’t like having your cock sucked, Mister Leduc, you could have just said so. There’s no need to be nasty about it.”
“You let me come in your pretty mouth and you fucking swallowed it,” he said harshly. Slowly, his body crushed hers against the wall. His erection dug into her belly, and she gasped.
“Was I supposed to spit?” she asked, her voice low and suggestive. “Sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“It was disgusting.” His mouth closed over the spot where he’d licked, and his teeth sank into her skin – sharp, punitive. She whimpered, hot chills running through her, making it so hard not to touch him. This no touching thing was fucking hellish. If it was just because he wasn’t used to being touched, she was going to make it her mission to fix it. Wait. Did no touching mean she also couldn’t push him away?
“Uh huh. And how many times have you jacked off thinking about it?”
His teeth let go of her neck. “Too many.” He grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. Slowly, as though waiting for her to object, he lowered his mouth to hers. The first brush of their lips sent a spark through her, and his breath hissed in as though he’d felt it too. He brushed his lips back and forth over hers, testing, then deepened the kiss.
Unable to resist, she kissed him back, flicking her tongue over the seam of his lips when he didn’t automatically open his mouth. His lips parted, and she sought out his tongue with her own. Tentatively, he kissed her back, gradually getting bolder until he’d completely taken charge and her spine was in danger of melting completely. The commanding dart of his tongue in her mouth, and the movement of his mouth made her imagine what it would be like to have him go down on her, but she doubted he ever would if he thought that her swallowing was disgusting.
His leg nudged between hers, and she whimpered as his thigh pressed against her heated core. The heat and pressure of his thigh against her pussy forced a moan from her, which he caught in his demanding mouth. She clutched at her shirt hem, trying to keep her hands to herself while also trying to keep
her clothing decent while he investigated the boundaries of her bra with curious fingers.
An indignant, unfamiliar giggle reminded Minnow of where they were, with his tongue down her throat and his hand slowly and possessively roaming her body.
“Oh my god, get a room,” a teenage girl admonished as she and her tittering friend strolled past into the back. They thought they were funny until they glanced back and got a better look at Severin, whose wrathful gaze was enough to make them duck meekly into their break room.
When his gaze swung back to Minnow, she shrank back against the wall and shook her head.
“Don’t even think about it. We need to stop.”
The combination of pissed and horny in his expression didn’t bode well.
“I forgot where we were,” he admitted.
No subterfuge with this man. It was an interesting change after the type of men she normally dated – self-possessed, controlled, smooth. Severin’s reactions to her made her want to push him into losing his composure. Not a safe thing to do with a man who weighed at least a hundred and sixty pounds more than her, who was well over a foot taller.
He leaned in again, and for a moment she thought he was going to keep making out with her, but he only licked her bottom lip and backed off. It was as if he hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking one more taste. His gaze had gone hazy and sensual again, and she bit her lip where he’d licked her. Visions of him putting her to her hands and knees and taking her roughly from behind intruded into her thoughts. If there was a sign up list for that, she wanted her name at the top.
Regretfully, they had to stop this before they got arrested.
“Taking you to the mall was a mistake,” he grumbled as he grabbed the shopping bags and led her from the hallway. Thank goodness his hands were full. It might keep his hands occupied with something other than her for a while.
“I’m not a good service human?”
“Not if you’re leaving me painfully hard in a public place, no.”
“Who dragged who off into a secluded hallway for nefarious reasons?”
“Nefarious? An eighth-grade makeout session at the mall is hardly nefarious.” He smirked.
“Well...it was more like ninth grade for me. I was a late bloomer.”
Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Book 1) Page 7