For Her Protection-An Alpha Romance(2)

     



 

She drank the remaining wine in a few gulps, but instead of increasing her tipsiness, everything went a little heavier.

Since when were her feelings so fragile? Maybe it was because she hadn't dated in so long. There'd been no time for that.

But then the last person she'd been with had left her for someone else …

She stood to go, but her gaze caught again.

Him-the same devil who'd stolen her attention earlier, now watched her.  Hooded, serious eyes met hers. This guy was not polite. It's never  polite to watch someone when they're not looking.

Heat rolled up her spine.

He glanced away.

Until five minutes ago, a "nice" ordinary guy like Blake had been a  safe, comfortable bet. Apparently not. Which meant all bet's could now  be called off.

She snatched the bill off the bar, and stuffed it into her bra.

We'll see who's a DUFF.

She shook her shoulders, then walked through the bar, right past Blake, and to Mr. Short-hair-brooding-eyes.

***

She came right at him.

Connor leaned back in his seat. Shit. You'd think five-years in the job, he'd have more discretion.

But what red-blooded man wouldn't stare at her?

She weaved between tables, hips swaying, full-fucking-irresistible cleavage peeking out from her blouse.

He kept his eyes on his glass, even if his peripheral was having a feast.

"Hi." Her voice was as lush as the rest of her.

He'd fucked up. She'd noticed him watching and now there'd be a  confrontation. If he was compromised then he'd be forced to take matters  to the next level.

He looked up.

Mother-fucker.

Jet-black hair flowed over her shoulders. He'd seen her tug that hair  from its ponytail and fluff it. Cheeky, attention-seeking minx. It  hadn't been so bad from over there. He hadn't been able to smell her as  he did now. He hadn't known she used vanilla scented shampoo then. His  fists curled. But her hair wasn't the problem, even if he kept imagining  it curled around his fist. The problem was her wide, almond-shaped eyes  the color of butter warming in a pan, melting his brain.

"What?"

She flinched, smile slipping, then reached to her front. He tried to  stay still, damned hard work, because she reached between those  magnificent tits and pulled out a bill. "I'll give you ten dollars if  you kiss me right now?"

He glanced at the money in her hand. Un-freaking-believable. "Do I look like a gigolo to you, woman?"

"No, I imagine the scowl would be terrible for business." She laughed,  the husky sound of it had his muscles clenching. "But I saw you looking  at me, and I really need you to kiss me, so if the money's offensive,  would you just do it for free?"

Kiss her for free?

It'd cost if he kissed her-no way out of that, but he'd be the one paying.

She held his gaze, then sighed and squeezed the bill back into her top. "Never mind, I must have misunderstood."

Her big eyes went soft and sad.

Fuck, did she do that on purpose? Did anyone ever actually say no to her?

He scooted back his chair. Well, if was a kiss she wanted, he'd damned well show her how it's done.

Her lips parted as he rose, and her head tipped back. She gulped. He was  used to that. Little women like her realizing they'd bitten off more  than they could chew. She probably hadn't noticed when he'd been seated  that he'd have over a foot on her.

Maybe he'd have gone slow, moved in gently, if she hadn't demanded that last part-right now.

The cheek.

He took a step. She swallowed again. This time he let himself take in  the sight of her curves-he let his gaze trail all over her.

He reached for her shoulder, but the next thing he knew he'd buried his  hand in that hair he'd been fantasizing about since he clamped eyes on  her.





TWO


The world dipped as he tilted her back. She gasped, lips parting under a  mouth that looked hard, kissed hard, yet was so soft on hers. He  capitalized on the movement, sliding his tongue into her mouth.

She jolted from the touch, the intimacy, right there in a bar. He  gripped her hair-such a possessive move. She didn't even know his name.

Holy-moly.

A wash of heat passed over her. He tasted of cola and man. Whatever  reservations her head had, her body had none, the muscles in her legs  melting, yet the ones in her arms, which weaved around his neck,  straining to get closer. He worked his tongue in her mouth, taking  possession, allowing no protest.

But why would she protest?

She'd asked for this. She'd asked this strange man to kiss her publicly.  His scent, the subtle hit of aftershave, filled her breathes. He made a  rumbling sound, then hauled her closer so her spine bent, so her curves  squished against his hardness. The sound he made reverberated into her  blood, and streaked arousal to her core.         

     



 

The heat turned explosive, making her limbs tingle, her breasts heavy, nipples hard.

He didn't hold back.

She broke the kiss, and jerked away. "Thank you."

Her heart pounded.

He said nothing, but his thumb flicked under his bottom lip, not exactly  wiping. His gaze narrowed on her-angry. Why would he be angry?

Suddenly the sounds around her penetrated over the sound of her heartbeat. Wolf-whistles and cheers.

The heat in her cheeks rose.

She'd intended to prove a point-make a statement, to the douche-canoe at  the back of the room who'd passed her over for someone possibly more  conventionally attractive. And also she'd wanted to prove something to  herself.

She could get a kiss from the hottest guy in the bar.

He glanced around and the noise dissipated back into regular chatter.

Who'd have thought the hottest, most honest kiss of her life would come from a stranger who's name she didn't even know?

Not that he looked happy about it.

"Well, enjoy the rest of your evening." For lack of something better to  do she waved, then turned for the door. She caught a glimpse of Blake at  the back of the room, eyes wide with surprise. The satisfaction she  expected never arrived. It seemed stupid now to have wanted to prove a  point to that jerk.

She strode for the door, and burst out into the street. Chill, damp  Seattle wind hit her face. At least it was spitting and not a downpour.  Too bad she didn't bring that high-neck sweater.

She spotted a cab across the street, and stepped out onto the road.

A heavy force struck her side.

She fell into the gutter. Pain exploded through her elbow into her shoulder. Damp cold saturated her backside.

Her head spun, but she looked up.

Revving roared beside her, the cause of which was half obscured by a looming hulkish shape.

No. She'd hit her head on the way down, because it wasn't-couldn't be.

It looked a shit-load like the guy she'd kissed in the bar was holding up a car.

Holding-up-a-fucking-car.

She stared … or just the front of a car.

Hard to tell in the spitting rain, at night, when some lunatic was driving around with their headlights off.

He lowered the front of the car until the wheels returned to the ground then turned to her. "Are you okay?"

She rubbed her head despite the throb moving her arm caused.

Tiers screeched. The car took off.

He spun around, starting after it, before stopping and glancing back at her.

Conan-the-freaking-barbarian.

He stalked towards her. "Are you injured?"

"No." Just bruised and liberated of dignity.

He grabbed her uninjured arm and hauled her out of the gutter. She  regained her footing, the chill turning the cold on her very wet ass,  freezing.

Wonderful.

He muttered something under his breath, and led her down the footpath.

"Wait, where are we going?"

He muttered again, before answering. "I'm taking you home before you end up in more trouble."

Trouble?

She wasn't the crazy person tearing around at night without headlights.  Maybe he meant the kiss? That kinda, definitely could be trouble. They  reached a car parked around the corner. He jammed a key into the lock,  turned, then opened the door for her.

His car was old, a classic, not that she'd know what kind without  asking, but clean and obviously refurbished going by the gleaming white  interior.

Was she really going to let this strange guy just drive her home … but then he had saved her life.

"Um, I have a wet … " She paused, and cleared her throat. "I sat in a puddle."

His gaze raked over her, and although her soaking wet backside didn't  face him, his attention lingered at her hips as though he could see it.  "Woman, I don't carry spare skirts in my trunk, but I'm taking you home  where you can get dry, and that's the best I got."

Woman …

Conan the Barbarian suited him perfectly.

She rubbed her goose bump riddled arm. Shivers rolling over her skin.

His scowl evened to more of a frown. "The seats are leather. You'll be fine. Get in before you get frostbite on your ass."

She went inside, experiencing the delightful sensation of sodden cotton underwear squishing against chilled flesh.

He shut the door, then climbed in and started the car.

"Wow." She grabbed the sides of the seat. The motor roared, vibrating her thighs. "That's some engine."

He shot her a look, just one, and if she didn't know better, she'd have sworn she saw a hint of a smile.

They drove in complete silence with the exception of Charlie telling him her address. He pulled up in front of her townhome.