Wild Hyacinthe (Crimson Romance) (5 page)

She approached as I finished my final coffee with a big, leather purse over her shoulder. “My shift is over,” she said.

“Walk you to your car?” I offered, wincing at the idea of moving at all, so stuffed was I from my day of gluttonous eating.

She nodded and led the way out of the café.

We strolled in relative silence for a while in the same direction as I’d parked in the morning.

“Why do you want to train me?” Aria asked, breaking the silence.

I gazed down at her. She was of average height, which left me a perfect view to stare at her cleavage. I shrugged.

“You just want to get in my pants, don’t you?” she whispered.

I shrugged again. “What do you want me to say? If I say I do, you’ll call me an asshole. If I say I don’t, you’ll call me a liar. I want to get to know you and see where that takes us, and judging by your physique, training you will be very fulfilling for my professional side. I have no history of real relationships whatsoever, so forgive me for not being the smoothest when it comes to initiating these kinds of things.” I gave her a wry smile, ignoring my lie. No sense admitting to her that I’d killed my only love . . .
that
wasn’t likely to get me far. “Not many women play hard to get with me.”

She listened as we walked. I looked away, uncertain. Her beauty stirred up my most deadly hungers, so I tried not to indulge my imagination as her breasts rose and fell heavier with her increased breathing.

“Well, I suppose that makes two of us who haven’t had any real relationships,” she said.

I looked at her then, and the genuine sincerity of her statement showed in her expression. I stopped and wrapped my hand around Aria’s waist, tugging her to me so my pelvis pressed against her lower belly. She let out a slight gasp, but like all women, softened at my touch.

I knew the pattern from that moment. As soon as I touched a woman, she was putty in my hands, to be molded as I saw fit. She would do anything I asked her to. I could order her to her knees on the street and she’d suck me off happily. Not that I’d do such a thing, but it would work, if I were so inclined. Aria’s long lashes batted at me quickly as she was spelled by my eyes.

But then something shifted between us. Instead of melting into willing compliance, Aria let out a groan of pleasure, throwing her arms around the back of my neck and clasping me tightly. Her biceps flexed as she pulled herself up and locked her mouth on mine, kissing me.

Her lips tasted fruity and fragrant, soft as they pressed against mine, her tongue lapping once at my lower lip. I drew a sharp breath and crushed her against me with my other arm, meeting her tongue’s delicate strokes with more possessive licks of my own. The touch was electric, as all touch was to the incubus side of me, but it seemed that Aria drew strength from my touch instead of surrendering her energy to me. I returned her groan and kissed her deeper, forcing my tongue into her mouth as she panted, invading her body with my own.

I wanted to invade her thighs with my throbbing cock and claim her life as a tattooed pinprick on my forearm. The intensity of the thought startled me, but inspired my incubus’s drive, and my hand crept up her stomach and wrapped around her breast of its own accord. Aria whimpered as my fingertips dug into the flesh of her breast, possessive and urgent.

A car horn honked and somebody let a suggestive whoop out a window at us, reminding me of where we were. I released Aria and stuffed my hands into my pockets, clearing my throat and backing away a step.

She stumbled upon my release and caught herself against a light post. She panted and wrapped her arms around her midsection, shivering. “Wow.”

I swallowed my urges and cleared my throat again. “Yeah.”

What the hell was that?
It was as though Aria was strong enough sexually to contribute to an encounter with an incubus rather than melt beneath it. She shook before me, trembling, and though I was certain it wasn’t from cold, I wished I had a jacket to offer her.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Are you alright?”

She furrowed her brow and blinked. “Of course I’m alright. That was . . . ”

I nodded, remembering that normal men didn’t kill with sex, so I should treat kissing as normal. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Aria let out another laugh, tucking her blue strand behind her silvered ear. “I attacked you there, remember? Sorry yourself.”

I reached forward and stroked that crease between her eyebrows. She blinked up at me and stuck her thumb through her belt loop, once again calling my attention to her hips. I took her fingers between my own. She let me, and I gave her hand a squeeze. “Where’s your car?”

She straightened and shook her head, and then continued to walk along the street with her hand in mine.

I suppressed a laugh of surprise when I realized her car was the shitty Toyota Camry parked next to mine. She slid into the driver’s seat and peered up at me, her knees pressed together as her skirt rode up on her thighs.

“Thanks for the walk. And for the generous tip.”

I nodded and bent to plant a single kiss on her full, expectant lips. “Thanks for the feast.”

Aria’s breath was hot, but I pulled away as she tucked her legs beneath the steering wheel. She flashed me a brief wave as she shut the door, and I strolled around my Lamborghini, keyed the unlock code and slid in. As I started the engine, I rolled down my window and gave Aria a big, ecstatic smile.

“See you tomorrow, Aria H.”

Her smile at the extravagance of my car brought her face to life again, mixed with a little bit of shock that I parked right next to her. I supposed it only enhanced her stalker opinion of me, but that was alright. Parking beside Aria was truly an accident. I sped away, leaving both of us—I hoped—shaken from our kiss.

There were few moments in my life I’d call momentous in a positive way until the day Asher Chain kissed me in the street as he walked me to my car.

Holy shit, yes, that really happened!
Concentrate on the road!
I ran my fingertip over my lower lip and sighed as I drove. I’d never been kissed like that before. Or at all, really. Seventh grade didn’t count.

Asher Chain kissed me. A smile tugged on the edges of my lips and I let a giggle slip out, cranking up the radio to cover it with arousing techno beats.

My heart was pounding so hard as I drove north up the highway, I thought I might have to pull over. I cracked open the can of Pepsi I took from the Lacy Teacup’s cooler room—the manager said it was okay—and took a few sips, trying to distract myself. Eventually I turned off the highway into a campground where I paid the ten-dollar fee at the honor-system box and slid my little Camry into a nice, spacious lot. It was nice to have money again, even if just a handful of cash tips. I’d been dangerously close to hocking off some clothing when I saw the “Waitress Wanted” sign at the café. I heard from my previous job that the customers in Duluth tipped well, and that would set me off on a faster course to my travels.

I might not ever have the money to own a house or a nice, fancy car, but I could save up enough tips to see the world bit by bit. That was my plan, and I stuck to it like glue. And if something happened to land in my lap that made better than minimum wage, maybe I could hire a private investigator to dig into my mother’s secrets, and find out what happened to my brothers and sisters. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I’d earn that kind of change on merely tips.

Tips! Five hundred dollars on a credit card bill! What was he thinking? I killed the engine and reclined the seat a bit, ruffling my short hair as I stared at the fabric visor above me. I sighed. Five hundred of Asher’s dollars. I rummaged through my bag on the passenger’s seat and pulled out a Nora Roberts, ready to lose myself in a world more real than this crazy, impossible day of making out with the man I shot down in a bar during a bout of insecurity.

Six pages in I noticed I hadn’t read a goddamn word as I scanned the pages, my eyes wandering over the text without taking in the story. I dropped my head back and snorted. I wasn’t reading. I was living in a fantasy of my own. A dangerous fantasy where Asher wanted to kiss me more than once, where he walked me to my car, where he walked with me to
his
car, and then we drove away to a lakeside hideaway...

Hand slap!
Ugh! I slammed the book cover closed, amazed I could even gross myself out with my girlish daydreaming. Something heated inside me as I tossed the book aside and let my hands rest on my stomach. I took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to calm the beat of my heart, but when I closed my eyes all I could see was Asher’s sexy smirk. I let my imaginary gaze wander down the lines of his bulging shoulders, the way his muscles strained against the fabric of his shirts as though they couldn’t bear to be hidden by cloth. He kissed me so gently at first when I threw myself at him, and then pushed into my mouth, invaded me, and invited me in all at once.

God. He was like a magnetic pull toward the thing I wanted most.

My eyelids flew open.
What is the thing I want most?

I thought I wanted to get laid. I thought I wanted no-strings-attached. But if the strings were attached to a man like him, to a being of solid muscle and the sexiest smile I’d ever seen, and a mouth that kissed with such temptation I could hardly resist him even in the street . . . that was another story.

I snorted at myself. All he’d done was tip me and kiss me, and suggest we spend some time together. Not a relationship, not strings. I couldn’t delude myself into expecting this was something more, or I’d be so disappointed—and humiliated—I’d never be able to face him again. He was a man with many options, I was sure. And I was a homeless, inexperienced
weirdo
he probably viewed as great variety to add to his list of willing candidates.

Insecure wasn’t any more attractive than weird or homeless, I’d long since learned from plundering through the romance sections of libraries. I couldn’t let him see how he rattled me, how scared I grew every time he studied me with his gaze as though he couldn’t figure me out. There wasn’t much to figure out, but he didn’t need to know that.

If
he
didn’t know that
I
knew how poorly I contrasted him, perhaps his interest in me would grow. I reclined the seat all the way back and clasped my hands behind my head, chewing on my lip. If he saw me as someone who knew she could stand on his level, he might be more likely to invite me there. To get to know the playful side of me before he figured out all my bullshit. If I acted like I belonged with a man like him, maybe I would actually grow to deserve that. Maybe then I’d get to fuck him.

I sat bolt upright and glanced around, as if I’d screamed the thought aloud. I cracked open my window to get some fresh air, my cheeks flushed hot from the delicious idea. Embarrassed by my own eagerness—which bordered on desperation—I settled back into the seat and shifted as best onto my side as I could. Jeez.
Can’t let him see me as desperate, either.

But the thoughts of sex wouldn’t leave my brain as I struggled to doze off in the fading sunlight. Asher, shirtless. Pants-less. Hell, I wanted him socks-less for that matter. Wearing nothing but me.
God.
Desire so potent it nearly scalded me from the inside coursed through my body with every beat of my heart, and pressure thrummed inside me, craving release. He could relieve it. I could almost feel his tanned skin pressed against mine, his strong hands squeezing my breast. I heard an involuntary moan leak from my lips.

Get control of yourself, woman.
I grabbed Nora Roberts again and opened it up, taking a big whiff of the aroma: perfectly weathered paper. I didn’t mind library books, but my Nora collection was one with which I could never bear to part. Even the dent this one had halfway down every page on the edge was one I cherished, because I’d dropped it the day I moved away from home. It was a sign of my freedom, my independence and the things I felt were most important in life: loyalty and love.

I tried to read a page and lost myself in fantasy again, thinking of Asher’s burning, confident eyes and the heat he ignited in me every time he spoke.

Dreams of touch I’d never felt before disrupted my sleep. Fingers stroking the softest of skin, tongues mingling in long, slow kisses, and thick arms wrapped around me so tight I could never fall romanced me in my sleep, and I woke with a jump. I pressed my palm to my pounding heart and let out a low whistle as I struggled to come down from the arousal, shocked that even in dreams Asher’s touch took my breath away. That burn in my core was growing familiar to me, and it spread up through my body and into my eyes. I rolled my head back and moaned out loud, but release was just out of reach.

I didn’t want release of my own. I wanted it from Asher exclusively. That thought was as exciting as it was terrifying, and I hoped if I saw him today he wouldn’t notice me flush or stumble on my words as I hid the potency of my desire.

I started my car and rolled down the window all the way, pulling the back of the seat upright. I took off down the highway toward Duluth, eager to clean up at the truck stop and maybe get to work a little early.

I grinned at my own enthusiasm—wow, one kiss and I was a new, refreshed woman. If a kiss could change me so strongly, what could a whole night do?

Clean, refreshed, and ready to hit the day hard, I had just left the truck stop when glass smashed around me. I screamed and let go of the wheel, sharp blades grazing across my forehead, a grunting sound muted by the crunch of folding metal. Somewhere in my mind I scolded myself for not wearing my seatbelt as the car slid sideways into the ditch and stopped in mud. I wrapped my arms over my face with my hands balled into fists as I hit the passenger door.
Stop, car, please!
The crunching was finally silent when the car was still. I opened my eyes and shrieked once more.

Antlers stuck through my windshield, the airbag hanging limp from the steering wheel. The buck kicked and grunted, and then shook his head violently. I cowered against the door, my breath drawing in sharp gasps as the deer dislodged his antler from the deflated airbag and rolled off the hood of the car. He limped away, and I sat there staring in shock. I didn’t notice I was crying until I reached to the floor of the car and felt for my bag, or my books. Nothing there. I reached through the passenger window and realized the glass was gone, and then I really started to sob.