Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Alistair

I’m not sure what causes me to look up from my paperwork, through the rain-blurred window of the limousine. Ever since yesterday, there has been an itch between my shoulder blades. Something prickly under the starched collar of my dress shirt. If I believed in bullshit hocus pocus, I might even think it was a premonition.

Ever since I had the sensation of being watched yesterday, I’ve been unable to focus on work—and I don’t take kindly to this kind of distraction. Work is the only thing worth focusing on, after all. So when I look up from the rental reports on my lap and see the girl walking in the rain, I tell myself it’s not my fucking problem.

I’ve been left in the rain before. Literally and metaphorically.

It’s only the end of the world if one allows it to be.

And I certainly didn’t allow myself the self-pity.

Whoever this stranger is, she shouldn’t have been stupid enough to forget her umbrella. Maybe she’ll learn a lesson from getting stranded on this long stretch of road without assistance. God knows when I faced the same obstacle, I decided to change my life. Decided never to be left out in the rain again—and I haven’t.

At age thirty-one, I do the leaving now.

Ignoring the sting in my chest—and despite my best effort to ignore the girl—I lean forward in the backseat to get a better look as we pass.

“Stop.”

That barked command to the driver is pulled from a deep, untouched recess inside of me. As I sit staring at the vision on the other side of the window, the itching between my shoulder blades dulls and stops completely. I don’t like that. I don’t like it one bit. Who is this…creature? She is soaked to the skin, her thin dress molded to a tight, young body. Long blonde hair is plastered to her shoulders, neck and forehead.

And she’s smiling.

I don’t realize I’ve moved as close as possible to the glass until my ragged breath fogs the window and obscures my vision. Cursing with impatience, I throw open the back door and step out, buttoning my suit coat. An action I normally perform out of habit, but this time doubles as a method of hiding my erection.

Fuck. I can’t remember the last time a specific female got me hard.

I’ve been with women, of course, but I prefer the efficiency of my own fist. It’s fast and doesn’t require any conversation. I only engage in sex or masturbation to meet the needs of my body. Not for enjoyment. Certainly not for love. In short, I’m shocked to find myself painfully hungry for this girl in a matter of seconds.

My jacket is growing more and more drenched while I try to distinguish the color of her nipples through the thin dress. With an inward command to get myself in order, I reach back into the limousine for my umbrella, opening it and marching over to the waterlogged blonde.

Drawing closer, I’m disgusted when I’m attacked by an uncharacteristic wave of sympathy. The girl can’t be more than eighteen. Who the hell left her vulnerable out here in nothing more than a slip? Because my God, is she ever vulnerable. If someone with more sinister intentions were to drive by, she’d be in serious danger, this beautiful, fragile little thing.

As it is, I’m not positive she’s safe from me.

Up close, my attraction burns even hotter. She’s nothing short of angelic. I’ve never seen such a luscious mouth, skin that begs for a man’s hands. Tits designed to scramble a lesser man’s brain. Wide green eyes. She’s a sexual fantasy and yet, her innocence gives her an air of being almost…off limits to a bastard like me.

Too sweet to sully.

Suddenly I’m finding it hard to swallow. “What the fuck are you doing out here in the rain?” I bark, much louder than intended.

Her smile dims. She blinks. “W-walking, sir.”

Sir. That word vibrates through me, leaving sensual destruction in its path. “Walking. From where?”

“Home. I just went for a walk. I didn’t know it was going to rain, but…” She looks up at the sky and the sun chooses that moment to peek through the clouds, bathing her face in light. “I don’t mind it. Rain is nothing to be scared of. It just means the angels are watching a sad movie.”

“The other angels, you mean?” Christ, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. The blood that has left my brain and relocated in my groin is obviously affecting me mentally. That almost qualified as a compliment and I don’t dole those out. Saying nice things to people makes them want to stick around and I’m not interested in company. Being alone is my preferred state. “I suppose you think I’m going to offer you my umbrella? I’m not. You should always be prepared for a storm.”

The girl nods. “Are you talking about the weather now?” she whispers. “Or…have you learned that lesson in life?”

How…odd that she is the one in a see-through dress, yet I’m the one feeling completely exposed here. There is something about her that makes me feel uncovered. Like she can see straight through me. Maybe she really did fall from the sky? “Both,” I mutter, finally answering her question. “Do you always ask strangers such personal questions?”

She considers that. “I don’t really meet a lot of strangers.”

“Obviously not,” I snap. “You don’t recognize the danger they pose when you’re all alone, walking around in this…” I brush a finger along the short hem of her dress. “Scrap.”

When I drag my attention back up from her creamy thighs, I’m surprised to find her eyes pinched shut, her breaths coming in quick pants. Certainly not because I touched her dress…? “Oh, I don’t know,” she murmurs. “Not every stranger that drove by would be bad. One of them might be a kind man who shares his umbrella with me.”

“I’m not sharing my—” I glance up in astonishment to find I’m now covering her head with my umbrella. Putting both of us beneath it. Far too close for my peace of mind. She smells like fresh apples.

The girl giggles at the dismay I’ve failed to hide. “I won’t tell anyone you’re a softie. Don’t worry.”

I’m lecturing her on safety, but the twist she’s causing in my chest is twice as dangerous. This interaction might be nothing to her, but it’s the most I’ve conversed with anyone outside of my employ in years.

I don’t allow anyone to get close. I don’t like people. They are lazy, deceitful, opportunistic, selfish. Their true colors always show through in the end. It’s why I don’t feel a hint of remorse when I evict my tenants. No one is truly good or worthy of empathy. Not to mention, I’ve been at the bottom of the barrel without so much as two dimes to rub together and I’ve built a billion-dollar real estate empire. If they can’t come up with a thousand bucks for rent, they can cry me a river.

The fact that this slip of a girl got through my defenses is not sitting right. I don’t like having my indifference challenged. I especially don’t like the wisp of satisfaction I got when she called me kind. I’m not.

For some reason, I damn well want her to know it.

“You think I’m a softie?” My voice is deceptively gentle when the rest of me is so hard. “Do you know why I pulled over?”

“Why?” she says, seeming to hold her breath.

Don’t you dare. She’s innocent.I say the words, anyway, however. I want to drive her away. Now. She caught me with my walls down and that is the ultimate invasion, made worse because I crave it happening again. “I pulled over because I know tight pussy when I see it.” I frame her jaw with my right hand, tilting her blushing face up toward mine. “I’d like to fuck you on all fours, right here in the middle of the road, little girl. Rough as you can stand. Still think I’m a softie?”

“No,” she gasps, the green of her eyes deepening to a forest shade. “I don’t.”

I ignore the regret stabbing me in the neck. “Good.”

She tugs her chin out of my hold, skirts around me and continues walking up the road, arms stiff at her sides. I’m monetarily dumbfounded by the sense of loss I experience without her in front of me—and then I’m turning on a heel, going after her. “Get in the limo. Now.”

“Why would I do that?”

“How about so you don’t catch pneumonia?” I growl. “Or get kidnapped.”

“Or roughed up on my hands and knees in the middle of the road?” she inquires primly over her shoulder, hurt dancing in her eyes.

More regret piles onto my head. “I said I would like to do those things, not that I’m going to,” I say through my teeth, following on her heels. “Stop walking away immediately and tell me your name.”

“Since you asked so politely, it’s Shelby. Shelby Bishop,” she says, spinning back around to face me. “I don’t understand. Why would you want me to think you’re terrible and rude? Can’t you just be the man who shares his umbrella?”

“Shelby Bishop.” That name hits me with such an odd sense of déjà vu, I feel slightly dizzy. I shake my head to clear the sensation. “I’m Alistair Kent.”

She crosses her arms, pursing those bee-stung lips, and my cock turns harder than fucking steel in my slacks. “You didn’t answer my question, Alistair.”

Is it my imagination or does my name roll off her tongue as if she’s said it a million times? “You asked me a personal question. I don’t answer those.” She starts to turn again, but I catch her by the elbow. “If I make an exception this time, will you get in the limo? I…find myself wanting you warm and fed. Immediately.”

And spoiled rotten, dripping in diamonds, pearls and my come.

Some of the ire fades from her eyes. “Everything is ‘immediately’ with you. Do you ever have to wait for anything?”

“No.” My answer makes her smirk, cross her arms and wait. For the answer to her question, I assume. Can’t you just be the man who shares his umbrella? There is a shard of discomfort in my throat when I answer. “Sharing an umbrella might seem like a small gesture, but it made you expect more from me…emotionally. I have nothing to give in that way.” My jaw is tight enough to shatter. “If you come home with me, however, I have possessions that will make the fact that I’m an asshole seem irrelevant.”

A line forms between her brows. “You think I won’t mind you being mean just because you have nice things, like a fancy limo?”

“Exactly.”

Her smile is tremulous. “You’re wrong.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Prove it. Come with me and stay for a night in my home. I’ll remain my total bastard self while I’m spoiling you silly and we’ll see if you truly want to leave in the morning.”

Visibly mustering her confidence, she sticks out her hand for a shake. “It’s a deal, Alistair.”

My hand slides around hers and static ripples up my arm. And since our deal gives me permission to be my typically ruthless self, I pull her up against me roughly, flattening her sweet little tits against my chest. “You just made a deal with the devil, little girl,” I rasp, stooping down and throwing her over my shoulder. With her sputtering in shock, I turn on a heel and stalk back toward the open limousine door, already envisioning her in my home. In my bed. “No going back now.”