Desire Unchained

The answer to that had been painfully obvious, especially because guilt had been killing her as surely as whatever had struck down Arik. She had denied herself anything that even resembled pleasure with the ruthlessness of a religious zealot. How could she allow herself to experience what she had denied her mother?

Not a day had gone by that she didn’t think about how she’d ruined her parents’ marriage and sent her mother into a downward spiral of depression. No matter how many times Arik tried to tell her that she needed to forgive herself for telling their mother about finding their father with another woman, she couldn’t. Because Arik didn’t know her secret—that deep down, Runa feared that she hadn’t done it out of concern for their mother.

She’d done it to hurt their father.

The day Shade walked into her life had been the day she’d wondered, for the first time, if she would have anything to live for once Arik was gone.

He’d sauntered into her coffee shop, huge, impossibly gorgeous, black motorcycle boots thudding on the floor, his leather pants and jacket making that soft rasp, the pirate earring in his left lobe glinting in the light. His right hand had been tattooed, as well as the right side of his throat, and she’d wondered if tats on his arm had connected the two.

All female eyes latched on to him. All male eyes had averted.

“Oh, fuck me,” Aspic whispered. “All. Night. Long.”

There was no looking away from him as he moved to the counter, his gaze locked onto Runa’s.

Aspic started to pant, honest-to-God pant. “Here’s your risk, Runa. Take it. Make a move or I swear I will.”

He stopped in front of Runa. “Coffee.” The word rolled off his tongue as if he’d said, “I’d like to give you an orgasm.”

“Yes,” she whispered, because he could give her … oh, right. Coffee. She cleared her throat. Twice. “Regular, tall, or grande?”

“Whatever your largest size is.”

“Do you have a brew preference?”

“Strong and hot.”

“Milk? Soy or dairy? Cream?”

“Hell’s freakin’ bells.” He planted his palms on the counter and leaned in. “Just. Coffee.” His intense gaze roamed over her figure in a blatant appraisal that should have infuriated her but only made her heart beat faster. “Though I might be tempted to try something sweeter.”

Aspic nudged her with an elbow and then stepped forward. “Runa’s a little shy. Do you have a motorcycle? Because she loves motorcycles. Bet she’d love to see it.”

“Aspic!” Runa’s cheeks burned with mortification.

“Runa,” the leather man said softly, as though testing the feel of her name on his tongue. “Would you like to take a ride?”

“She’d love to,” Aspic said, and plopped his coffee in front of him.

Runa shook her head. “I don’t think—”

“Good,” he said, as he threw down a ten-dollar bill. “Keep the change. Let’s go.”

Before she could utter a protest, he grabbed his coffee, came around the counter, took her hand, and led her toward the back door. She planted her feet at the threshold. “Look, Mr. …”

“Shade.”

Odd name. Then again, she worked with a girl who called herself Aspic. “Mr. Shade.”

“Just Shade.”

“Shade, then. I’m afraid I can’t go anywhere with you.”

He cocked one black eyebrow and pushed open the door. “Who said anything about going anywhere?”

“But, you said ride.”

Her flowing skirt whirled around her calves as he whisked her into the side street and toward the alley. “Yep.”

Panic flared. This man could be a serial killer or a rapist, and here she was, half his size, be-bopping into an alley with him. “I can’t—”

Suddenly, she found herself against the wall of the building, his body pinning hers, his mouth against her ear. Both of his hands were on her shoulders … what had he done with the coffee?

“I can smell your desire, Runa,” he murmured in a coaxing, seductive tone. “You’re blooming for me like a flower.”

He rocked his hips into her. The erection behind the fly of his pants massaged her belly, promising an experience she’d never forget. The man was sex on legs, an overwhelming mass of muscle, testosterone, and sensuality for which she had no defense. Nothing had prepared her for something like this. She doubted any woman could be prepared for Shade. At least not mentally. Her body was preparing itself without her go-ahead.

Her breasts tingled and tightened, her heart pounded frantically against her rib cage, and a rush of liquid dampened her panties. She squeezed her thighs together to relieve the ache between them, but that only made things worse.

The situation was rapidly tumbling out of control, and as his tongue swept along her neck and his hands stroked her hips, she found she couldn’t care.

He fisted her skirt and drew it up to her hips. “Do you want this?” He nuzzled her throat and pressed a thick thigh between her legs, creating the most delicious pressure. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

This was her out. Her chance to get away from him. To go back inside her failing shop and then home to her dying brother. On the way home she could get robbed and shot. Run over by a taxi. Stabbed in a subway station.