Page 18 of My Fallen Saint

I take a seat by a blond lawyer-type nursing a Gin and Tonic as he keeps one eye on the TV. At least until I’m settled on the stool. Then his full attention shifts to me.

All it takes is a friendly smile and some casual banter. Throw in a few provocative sucks on a maraschino cherry, and that’s pretty much a slam dunk. Soon enough Mr. GT pays for both our rounds, then leads me out the door and toward his car. It’s a short walk to a paid lot, but at past eleven on a Thursday, there are only a few cars still here.

His is in the back, a black BMW tucked into a shadowy corner of the lot. Nice.

His hand had been casually possessive on my arm, but now he removes it to reach into his pocket for his keys. The car chirps as the doors unlocks. “I don’t live far.”

“What a coincidence. Neither do I.”

He grins. He’s clean-shaven with broad shoulders and strong hands. I could do worse. “Come to my place. You won’t regret it. I have a view, a well-stocked bar, and nowhere I have to be in the morning.”

“Tempting,” I say, though I’m not tempted at all. I’m not going to his place. That’s not what I want. I’m craving danger. And I want something a damn sight more visceral than me dodging pleas that we exchange numbers in the morning.

No, what I want is something edgy. The rush from pushing the envelope. The danger of possibly getting caught.

I tilt my head and bite my lower lip as I move toward his car, then lean casually against the trunk. “Convince me why I should?” I rub my fingertips lightly over my breast, then casually brush my nipple. “A smart woman always tries before she buys.”

Even in the dim light, I can see his throat move as he swallows, and it’s like a drug to me. Because I’m the one calling the shots now. I’m the one in control.

“You do seem like a very smart woman,” he says, taking a long step toward me. He puts his hands on my knees, then roughly pushes my legs apart.

“Yes,” I gasp as he eases closer, so that my thighs press against his hips and his hand cups me through my jeans.

“A smarter woman would have worn a skirt.”

“A clever man will find a solution,” I counter, grabbing his tie to tug his mouth down to mine. He’s not a great kisser, but that’s okay. This isn’t about romance or even passion. But it’s raw and hot, and that’s what I crave. Something hot enough and wild enough to burn away my thoughts and regrets. Something I started, and that I’ll finish on my terms, and then walk the fuck away.

“More,” I demand, grabbing his hand and putting it on the fly of my jeans. He doesn’t need any additional encouragement, and soon enough he has the zipper down and his fingers sliding inside, teasing my clit over the satin of my panties as his other hand frees my breast and plays with my nipple.

I arch back, closing my eyes as he moves his mouth to my breast. I want to lose myself to the sensations he’s bringing. I want to find that sweet spot of forbidden pleasure, but, dammit, right now all I feel is touch and pressure and the wet suckling of his mouth. There’s no electricity. No fiery threads of awareness. No heat arrowing straight for my core.

I want to be fucked. I want to be pushed into that void where sense and reason disappear and all you feel is raw, wild passion. I want it, but it’s not happening. Because it’s not anonymous pleasure I’m thinking of now. It’s Alex.

Goddamn him to hell, now he’s even ruined this for me.

Light arcs over us as a car enters the lot, but I just ignore it, holding Mr. GT’s head in place on my breast, because maybe this extra bit of risk will finally, finally send me spiraling up to that magical, mindless place I’m so desperate to reach.

He pulls back, meeting my eyes, and I can see that even if I haven’t hit nirvana yet, he damn sure has. I can tell from the heat in his eyes that he’s never done anything like this before, and I’m like a goddess to him right now.

I should feel a rush of sensual power, but I don’t, dammit, so I grab his hair and pull him to me, trying to force that connection. That explosion. I suck on his lower lip as he groans and slips his finger under my panties. I close my eyes, craving the moment when his fingers enter me, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I gasp as the guy jerks back, and I don’t even have time to wonder what the hell happened before I see Alex holding Mr. GT by the throat, their faces only inches apart. But this isn’t the Alex I knew. This man is coldly dangerous, his eyes like daggers, and simply from the way he’s standing there, he owns the entire goddamn parking lot.

The hell he does.

I shake myself as anger replaces confusion. “What the fuck?” I snap, as GT looks sideways at me, obviously assuming the crazy man with the death grip belongs to me. “Let him go.”

Alex releases him with a shove and my emasculated hook-up lands ignobly on his ass. “Go.”

That’s all he says, but it’s enough. Mr. GT stumbles to his feet then turns toward his car.

I’m still on the trunk, my breast exposed, but he ignores me and clambers into the driver’s seat. As the engine fires, I adjust my shirt, then slide off the car and stalk toward Alex as the BMW starts moving backwards, eager to be free of the crazy people. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, then shove him hard with both hands.

He catches my wrists and pulls me close. “What am I doing?” His voice is lower and harder and more dangerous than I remember. If I’d been courting danger, I definitely found it. “What the hell are you doing?”

“None of your goddamn business,” I snap as Mr. GT squeals off into the night.

I’m only inches from him, my heart pounding as he continues to hold me tight. “Let me go.”

He doesn’t react. Not a twitch of a muscle. Not the slightest change in the diameter of his pupils. He simply stands there, his eyes hard on mine, as a firestorm of electricity crackles around us.