A Gentleman in the Street
Read A Gentleman in the Street Online
Authors: Alisha Rai
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romantic, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Multicultural, #Multicultural & Interracial
A GENTLEMAN IN THE STREET
Alisha Rai
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Shameless. That’s what she was.
Billionaire businesswoman Akira Mori can get anything and anyone her heart desires. Anyone, that is, except for a certain aloof author who has been dominating her dreams for over a decade. Accustomed to Jacob Campbell’s stern disapproval, Akira has turned provocation into an art, using every trick in her arsenal to keep the man from guessing the depth of her filthy fantasies.
Shameless. That’s what she made him.
Since the moment the sexy, sultry socialite sidled up to him years ago, there hasn’t been a time when Jacob didn’t crave Akira. But as guardian to his younger siblings, responsibility has controlled his life. Confining his darkest desires to secret, stolen moments maintains his carefully disciplined world…but a cold bed is the price he pays.
A single touch is all it takes for their simmering need to explode. As secrets and fears are stripped away one by one, shame becomes a thing of the past. They find themselves becoming addicted to each other, in bed and out—a frightening prospect for a man just learning to live…and a woman who thinks she doesn’t know how to love.
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Akira Mori was partial to a certain kind of man: the kind you fucked raw and dirty until your voice was hoarse and your skin slick with sweat. The location wasn’t important—up against a brick wall, in the back of a car, on a kitchen island…
Jacob Campbell is not that kind of man.
Bullshit. Every man could be that kind of man. Or at least that was what she wanted to believe, when she was currently eyeing a delightfully sweaty and half-naked Jacob.
The late-afternoon sun flirted with smooth, tan skin. Muscles flexed and danced as he raised an ax and brought it down in a rhythmic cadence. Wide shoulders tapered to a narrow waist. His abs were flat and ridged with muscle, his chest powerful and shiny with sweat. Worn jeans hung low on his hips, revealing a thin line of paler skin.
Had she ever seen him without a shirt? No, she didn’t think so. Thank God for small favors or she would have forgotten long ago their contentious relationship didn’t allow for tracing that tan line below his hipbones with her tongue.
If he came out to the sticks to bare it all like this regularly, she would happily sacrifice the two-thousand-dollar high heels currently sinking into the dirt to play voyeur.
In theory, at least. She shifted, conscious of the mud clinging to her precious babies.
He won’t thank you for your appreciation.
She pushed the thought aside. Tight-lipped disapproval would come soon enough. Akira leaned back against the tree behind her, the better to settle in for the show.
How did he get an ass like that sitting around writing books? She had a desk job too. Even with her predisposition to slimness and inability to sit still, she had to work out like a fiend not to succumb to office spread.
He brought the ax down with a loud thwack and left it there, leaning over to pick up a bottle of water from a nearby stump. He turned, and she was treated to a view of his profile. Too-long dark brown hair tangled around his face. His throat worked as he swallowed the water. He’d grown a beard since she’d last seen him. She hated stubble burn, but he looked so good with facial hair she could not imagine minding some scrapes on her inner thighs.
She must have made some sort of noise; his head lifted. There was too much distance between them, but she knew his hazel eyes would darken to the same color as the leaves on the trees the instant he caught sight of her.
It always took her a second to collect herself when he turned his stare on her, a brief instant to remember what role she needed to play. She assured herself time and again he would never spot that smidgen of vulnerability. No one could.
Better she laugh and taunt and outrageously flirt to the point of irritation. Better he think her an empty-headed, useless, sex-crazed twit than guess the mortifying truth: she’d wanted this man for over a dozen years.
He was the first to end their staring contest and move, capping the water bottle. She clenched her hands behind her as he walked toward her, letting the rough bark scrape her sensitive knuckles.
Get ready. Shields in place.
Ice ran through her veins and steel grafted to her spine.
He stopped a foot away from her. It was rare for her to find a man taller than her, especially when she was wearing her high heels, but Jacob easily topped her. If she extended her arm, she’d be able to touch him, run her fingers over his deliciously muscular stomach.
She worked up her most blinding smile, the one that could stop traffic and launch a thousand ships, that could destroy a man or make him feel a thousand feet tall. “Hello, Brother Jacob.”
Jacob stared at her for a long minute. She refused to fidget or quail. The bark of the tree was harsh and unrelenting. The action hidden from his sight, she dug her hands harder against it, welcoming the shot of pain.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and gravelly, as if he hadn’t used it for a while. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”
“I apologize. Though it hurts when you rebuff my familial overtures. You are so difficult, Jacob.”
A muscle under his eye twitched. She couldn’t even utter his given name without paining him, but he would sound crazy and unreasonable if he snapped at her about that. And crazy was
her
role to play.
Without another word, he walked away. She checked herself from hurrying to keep up with his long strides, partially because Akira Mori hurried after no man, and partially because she was physically incapable of hurrying anywhere in her high heels and pencil skirt.
She ran her gaze over his naked, muscular back
,
his tight ass. Besides, the view was pretty good from here.
He spoke over his shoulder. “My father was married to your mother for three minutes over fourteen years ago. Doesn’t make me your brother.”
What a logical man. She delighted in twisting logic. “A year, brother. They were married a year. But can you put a time limit on the bonds of family?”
Was that a pile of crap on the ground? Ew. Distracted, she didn’t realize he had stopped until she ran smack into him. For an instant, she inhaled clean, warm male. Her hands went to his narrow hips in an automatic move to steady herself.
Before she could make contact, he pivoted and recoiled. “Don’t…touch me.”
Ice. Steel. The desire froze where it started. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she responded, every word razor sharp.
“I never do.” With that cryptic mutter, he dismissed her, his giant strides eating the distance to his cabin. His heavy boots thudded on the plank steps before he disappeared inside.
This isn’t worth it.
Akira looked around the clearing filled with nature and birds and trees and crap, and considered abandoning her mission. What was the point, really? This was a long shot, and her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep.
She’d been forced to put in a surprise-but-totally-planned appearance at her Vegas club the night before in light of some dipping numbers. An appearance, in her line of work, took a lot of fucking energy. It meant four-inch heels, a dress so short she had to keep a constant eye out for inadvertently flashing paparazzo (purposeful flashing was okay), and fake drinking shot after shot so she could ensure patrons had a good time and buzz was generated while she kept a clear head. Partying all night and hopping a flight in the wee hours of the morning had been far easier in her twenties.
She should be working right now to make up for the time she’d missed yesterday. Or better yet, curled up in front of a fire while the gloomy San Francisco fog rolled in. Or best, curled around a guy who
wanted
to touch her.
She didn’t need to be in the middle of fucking nowhere with a man who hated her, who had never been able to linger long in her presence. Hadn’t she endured enough of that attitude from her real family?
Well. Most of her family.
She gritted her teeth. There it was. The reason there would be no bed or fire or fiery bedmate for her, not until she’d chased down every lead in her hunt for her grandmother’s lost legacy. Uttering a vicious curse under her breath, she made her way to the porch, keeping a wary eye on the ground for surprises.
“Yoo-hoo,” she called out, putting as much annoying cheer into her greeting as she could muster.
Play your role.
“If you’re naked, put your pants on.” She finished on a mutter, letting the screen door shut behind her, “Or don’t.”
Maybe he was naked—the sound of running water came from the other room. Mmm. If half-naked Jacob made her lightheaded, what would the full monty do to her? She allowed herself a moment to linger over that image before shaking her head.
The cabin was tiny, with one slightly ajar door presumably leading to a bedroom and bathroom. Everything else was laid out in front of her: a bare-bones kitchen, a sagging couch, and a two-person breakfast table tucked away in the corner. No television, but a shiny, thin laptop sat on the linoleum counter.
Tall piles of newspapers sat in a corner. Who on earth read the newspaper anymore? Jacob, that’s who. She kept a twenty-four-hour news station on mute all day at work, and checked her tweet stream for the latest goings-on.
The place was clean and well-maintained, but she had to suppress a shudder. The closest she’d come to camping was when she’d organized a corporate retreat at a glamping site, which mostly consisted of creatively built structures that allowed tenants to feel like they were enjoying nature while still appreciating the comforts of home.
She loved nature. Except it had so many creepy-crawlies and animals and things that made her sneeze. Peering out at it from a fully equipped yurt was far preferable to wallowing in it. You got WiFi in the yurt.
“I like your couch,” she commented. “Orange is my favorite color.”
No response.
At a loss for entertainment, she prowled the room until she came to the bookshelf, which was crammed tight with mystery and horror novels. None of Jacob’s books lined the shelves. Made sense. He was far too perfect and humble to have them displayed all over the place. She bet they were properly tucked away in his home office.
Idly, she pulled a novel off the shelf and perused the back of it. The water in the other room shut off. “I didn’t realize you knew how to chop wood,” she said, pitching her voice so he could hear her through the thin walls. “You know, I bet if there’s a zombie apocalypse, you would do really well with that ax and all. I bet you have a whole host of survival skills up your sleeve.” She pushed the book back in and ran her finger along the dust-free shelf, until she came to a framed photo. A younger but still solemn Jacob in the center, his arms around two smiling teens and a pigtailed little girl.
Jacob had been twenty-two when their parents had united for their brief marriage. He was older in this photo, maybe twenty-four? Yes, that was about how old he had been when his father had died and he’d taken custody of his siblings. She remembered, because she’d been regaled with the news of Jacob’s sense of responsibility when she called her mother to tell her she was posing for
Playboy
.
Akira cleared her throat and put the frame back, adjusting it so it sat at the same angle as when she’d found it. “I doubt I’d do so well. In a zombie apocalypse, I mean. No weapons and no survival skills. Though I imagine I would be excellent at looting.” She paused. “I can’t guarantee I would only loot necessities, especially when every store would be open and mine for the taking. But proper footwear is important. I could be a ninja with the right pair of shoes.” Too bad he wasn’t in the room, so she could shift and draw his attention to her legs in the navy heels she was wearing. She didn’t consider her legs her finest feature, but she made the best of what she’d been given.
