Impossible Odds

15

I charged to the door and flung it open only to find him waiting on the other side. My mystery man. He wore a dress shirt, the cuffs folded back, and his hands resting casually in the pockets of his navy slacks. He was ruthlessly handsome, annihilating a woman’s senses with his masculine grace. His hair was combed back but not in an overly harsh manner. Just like before, he looked deceptively casual—calm and relaxed in a way a leopard might appear right before it pounced. His quicksilver eyes watched me with unnerving patience as I took him in. Defined cheekbones, perfect nose, and full lips all came together to form a vision of unnatural beauty. He was spellbinding, and the shock of seeing him stole my breath. Seized my lungs and summoned an inky blackness at the edges of my vision. “You’re here,” I breathed. The sound of my voice cleared the fog from my brain, allowing me to recall how annoyed I’d been for the past two days. Regaining my composure, I crossed my arms over my chest and took a calming breath. “I wasn’t sure I would hear from you again.” His chin lifted infinitesimally. “I said I’d be in touch.” “That was three days ago. I figured you’d changed your mind.” His lips curved into an icy, feral grin. “Impatient,” he tsked as if to himself. “I had work to attend to.” “It’s fine. You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m just surprised you’re here.” I waved my hand in the air nonchalantly, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. He stepped forward, one small but purposeful step at a time until he invaded my personal space, forcing me to retreat backward into my apartment. He swung the door shut behind him, his gaze never leaving mine. The blistering heat in his eyes held me captive. Commanded me with delicious coercion like the sweet melody of a snake charmer’s flute. He lowered his face, bringing us within a breath of each other. “I’m here now.” “And that means I’m supposed to drop everything?” His eyes cut to the side, lips quirking up. “You don’t exactly seem busy.” Ugh! Men. That wasn’t the point. I re-crossed my arms. “Maybe you’re just not very perceptive.” He grabbed my wrists and wrenched my body against his. “f**k, that mouth makes me crazy.” He slammed his lips down on mine, pressing inside me with unrestrained savagery. Lust, raw and demanding, dug its claws into me, addling my brain and melting my resolve. I’d been struck by lightning, a bolt of heady pleasure firing straight between my legs and pooling in my belly. His hands dug into my waist, holding me immobile and recklessly affected. A supple piece of clay to be molded by an erotic artist. He was a god of seduction. How did this man wield such power over me? “Wait … wait.” I panted helplessly, fighting to think clearly. “I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t even know your name.” I shook my head, eyes on his chest so I didn’t fall victim to his hypnotic stare. He leaned in, using his tongue to trace the line of my upper lip. “My name is Primo, and I’ve been waiting for this for three days. No more stalling.” Deep, predatory, and unapologetically lustful, his voice purred across my skin. I was lost. A paper boat drifting on his sinful ocean of promised pleasure. It was only a matter of time before I sank beneath those dark depths. I surrendered any hope of survival. I needed his turbulent waves more than I needed to breathe. Primo lifted me in his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist, and devoured me in a kiss. He carried me effortlessly to the bedroom, leaving the lights off so the ambient glow of the city was the only illumination. I worked at the buttons on his shirt as he walked, resting my palms against the hard plains of his chest beneath. His skin was warm and smooth, hair-free and taut over sculpted muscle. The feel of him sent another greedy command whispering darkly through my core. This man made my body respond as no other man had before him. Just his presence sent a sledgehammer of sensation rocketing through me, rendering me mute and dumb. A mindless creature consumed with only one thing … him. I wasn’t in the habit of giving men that power over me, but with Primo, there was no choice. The pull between us was greater than logic or rational thought. I didn’t think I could say no to him if I wanted to. Everything about it was dangerous. Irresponsible. Maddening. And so very right. Primo set me down gently, then wrenched my shirt up and over my head. I pulled his button-down out of his pants just before he ripped the remaining buttons off and dropped the shirt to the floor without a second thought. We raced to rid ourselves of our clothes, each taking in an eyeful of the other in the dim glow of the bedroom. When nothing was left between us, he bent down and slowly pulled his leather belt through the loops of his discarded slacks. A fissure of fear skated down my spine, cinching my n*****s into rock hard pebbles. “Give me your hands.” His coarse, devastatingly deep voice caused a relay of electricity to light up my nerve endings. The intoxicating nature of his command made me want to comply, but my questioning nature gave me pause. I hadn’t exactly been safe with him in that storage closet in the club, but I felt even more vulnerable isolated here in my apartment. He’d told me he didn’t hurt women, but words meant nothing when they came from a stranger, especially one who might be a stalker. Allowing him in my apartment and letting him strip me was as far as my trust would go, and that was more than most women would have given him. I shook my head. “No. I can’t … I’m not ready for that.” He didn’t argue, tossing the belt back onto his pile of clothes. “On the bed, clasp your hands together and raise them above your head.” I did as I was told this time, crawling onto the bed and reveling in the feel of his hungry eyes on my backside. I rolled over onto my back, entwining my fingers and lifting my hands above my head before soaking in the vision of him towering over me. His body was masculine perfection, all hard angles and rigid contours honed for conquering. And his c**k, sweet Mother Mary, his c**k was a gorgeous specimen of male arousal. Thick and lined with angry veins, his erection pointed heavily toward me as if pulling its master in my direction. He prowled toward me on the bed, nipping at my flesh and grazing his teeth along my most sensitive areas. “This shouldn’t be happening,” he murmured. “I told myself not to come here, but you’re like a f*****g drug. Getting inside you is all I can think about.” He pressed back on his knees, then spread my legs wide, holding my gaze for a pregnant moment before dropping his eyes to drink in the sight of me. “I have to get a taste … just one taste,” he breathed before diving in to lap at my slit.