A Stranger’s Touch (6 page)

Chapter Five

He wasn’t coming.

Roxi sat at her usual table, a newspaper spread out before her, a milky latté in a yellow mug within easy reach. She took a sip of the frothy concoction and forced her attention to the paper, and not to the street where it had been glued for the last ten minutes.

Her gaze strayed anyway, this time to the coffee counter. A barista moved quickly, expertly balancing the syrups and myriad flavor shots as she filled orders. The clock above her head read nearly a quarter past nine.

Roxi tapped her nails against the table. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to tell her he wouldn’t be showing up this morning. He’d said as much when he claimed dating her was a terrible idea. And yet here she was anyway, looking out the window like a lovesick puppy, hoping against all odds he’d change his mind.

But he wouldn’t. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear he was only interested in sex. No doubt insanely mind-blowing, phenomenal sex, but still just sex.

She was the one who’d pushed for more, and she’d obviously been an idiot to think he was interested in anything other than her body. Most size-fourteen women would have probably been thrilled to have a guy like Donovan admiring their curves. And she
was
…but was it so horrible to yearn for something more meaningful?

The irony of her desires didn’t escape her. She put her body on full, interactive display for a living, and yet she wanted the man who spent all day looking at her naked to see beyond her tits and ass. But damn it, she didn’t have to be reasonable. Not when it came to relationships.

And definitely not when it came to Donov—

Donovan.

He strolled into the coffee shop, setting off the tinny bell over the door that announced new customers. Everyone in the place turned to stare. A cute blonde a couple of tables down from Roxi straightened her spine and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. She propped her chin on her hand and fluttered her eyelashes.

Donovan spotted the woman instantly, almost as if he had a sixth sense when it came to bimbos. His lip twitched in a semblance of a smile as he stared at her.

Roxi’s stomach churned. The raisin scone she’d had for breakfast threatened to make its way up her esophagus.

Donovan’s gaze slid to his left, connected with Roxi’s—and drove the air from her lungs. His dim smile vanished altogether, only to be replaced with another scowl. For a guy on a date, he didn’t seem very happy to see her.

To give herself something to do, Roxi lifted the coffee cup to her lips as he neared the table but quickly set it back down when she realized her hands were shaking.

“Hi.” What should have been a plucky, confident greeting came out as a squeak.

Donovan yanked out the empty chair across from her, turned it around and dropped into it. He flattened his arms over the top of the backrest, once again effectively putting a barrier between them.

The sight of him took her breath away. His body molded to the chair with the sensual grace of a predator, and the way he speared her with that gray gaze turned her into a quivering mess.

She clamped her hands together on her lap and forced a smile. “I thought you would not come.”

“I had to.” He didn’t look happy about that. Not one bit.

She flicked her tongue between her dry lips. “Why?”

His eyes narrowed, and that telltale twitch in his jaw began anew. “Because of that, right there.”

She shook her head. “I do not understand.”

“That.” He pointed at her lips. When he stretched his arm, his index finger nearly came into contact with her mouth. It hovered half an inch away, until she could feel the heat promised by his touch. “The way you lick your lips makes me crazy. So does the way you move, the way you sound, the way you smell. Oh God, the way you smell…”

His face fell. He looked absolutely miserable.

Roxi’s heartbeat kicked up a few notches. “Is it that awful, being attracted to me?”

He let out a short laugh that didn’t hold a hint of humor. “Worse.”

She bristled at that. Her spine jolted ramrod straight and some of her desire began to ebb. “I will have you know I am one great catch. I am smart, funny, charming and…” She hesitated only a second before blurting out, “And I can fill out a D-cup bra like a plus-size underwear model.”

Ha. Take that!

She felt downright triumphant when his nostrils flared. No doubt he was picturing her in some skimpy outfit or another…or maybe wearing nothing at all. He’d seen her naked enough times to have imprinted every part of her body on his memory for life.

A blush seared its way up her throat. She lowered her gaze, suddenly finding the creamy sheen of the coffee utterly fascinating.

“There’s so much you just don’t understand.” He laced his fingers together and let his arms drape over the edge of the backrest.

Frustration warred with desire inside her. “You keep teasing me, hinting at some deep, dark secret. What is it? Are you an escaped convict? A murderer? Married? Bisexual? Transsexual?”

Scowling as though she’d insulted him, Donovan lifted his chin. “None of those. I am…” He pressed his lips together, clearly not wanting to say more.

Well, she’d had enough of that. “What? You’re
what
?”

“Canadian,” he said at last, his admission guttural and raspy, as if he’d just confessed to the worst crime imaginable.

She sank back in her chair. “You are an illegal alien?”

“No. I’m here on a work visa.”

Now she was genuinely confused. “So? I am from Greece. Why does our country of origin matter?”

He blew out a breath, scraped a hand over his stubbled jaw. God, he looked amazing. He hadn’t zipped up his coat all the way, and she got a glimpse of worn cotton stretched tight over his muscled chest. Her fingers itched to touch him there…and everywhere.

“We have traditions you wouldn’t understand.”

“Canadian traditions? Like what? You celebrate Thanksgiving a month earlier?”

He chuckled, the first genuinely amused sound she’d heard from him since she’d met him. She found she liked it. A lot. But then the laughter vanished as quickly as it appeared, and he stared at her intently. “I’m talking about mating traditions. Rituals, covenants unlike anything you’re used to.”

She laughed, trying to keep the sound breezy and casual. “This is one date, Donovan. It hardly means we are mated.”

A shadow fell over his face. “My pack—my
family
—chose a mate for me the day she was born. We were meant to be together forever. Divorce isn’t an option where I come from.”

Roxi sucked in a breath. “So you
are
married.”

“No. She left me a long time ago. She wanted to make a clean break from her past, which included me.”

Roxi toyed with her coffee cup. She dropped her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. “Do you still love her?”

“Love has nothing to do with pair bonding where I’m from.” The answer came easily, and Roxi was inclined to believe him. “But when we mate, we take each other for life. Losing a mate to anything but death is…” He blew out a breath. “Shameful.”

“And that is why you choose not to be with me?”

“That’s why I
can’t
be with you,” he clarified, as though the distinction mattered. “My people… They’re very different from yours.
I’m
different from you. We wouldn’t be compatible.”

That brought her head up. “We seemed compatible enough last night, when we kissed. And before that, you clearly thought my body was compatible with yours when you would have fucked me in the harness at Moderne.”

Roxi hadn’t bothered to keep her voice down and a number of heads turned their way. She didn’t give a damn.

“Sex is simple.” Donovan narrowed his eyes at her. “Relationships are complicated.”

“Spoken like a fortune cookie.” She grabbed her purse and rose from the table.

“Roxi.” Donovan grabbed her wrist.

The place where he touched her tingled, sending a hot ball of need low into her belly. “Let go of me.”

“No. Not until—”

Roxi’s cell phone rang, startling them both. She shook off Donovan’s grip and yanked it out of her purse. A quick glance at the screen revealed a long-distance call. Her mother, no doubt. She’d forgotten all about their daily gabfest. Pushing the button to send the call to voice mail, she turned her attention back to Donovan. “Sex only, then?”

His eyes sparkled. Desire dilated his pupils and his upper lip curled. “Now who’s teasing?”

“No teasing.” She took a deep breath, tilted her chin a fraction. Her heart raced at the look he gave her. Maybe he was right. Relationships were much too complicated, and this thing between them…well, it was straightforward. She recognized lust for what it was. She was an adult. Perhaps it was time to start acting like one. “Walk me home, Donovan. It is the least you can do.”

* * * * *

The cold February weather had Roxi huddling in her oversized coat. A chill wind crept up the back of her neck, making her burrow deeper into the high wool collar.

Beside her, Donovan looked downright comfortable. A few snowflakes sparkled among the strands of his short brown hair. His leather jacket was unzipped and the breeze ruffled his shirt, plastering it closer to the well-defined muscles of his abdomen.

“Are you not cold?” she asked when she couldn’t take it anymore. Just looking at him made the freezing temperature seep straight into her bones.

He shrugged. “This feels like home.”

Roxi slid her hands farther into her pockets. “Do you miss it?”

“Every damn day.” There was something dark and menacing beneath the simple words, a hidden fury she hadn’t anticipated.

She swallowed hard, wishing she understood more about where he came from. The way he talked about his family, it almost sounded like a cult of sorts. She knew arranged marriages were still practiced in many areas of the world, but she hadn’t realized Canadians still held on to such archaic traditions.

“Why did you come to New York?”

He watched her from the corner of his eye. Silence stretched on between them, making Roxi think he wouldn’t answer. But then he released a huffed breath that clouded the frosty air and said, “I followed Samantha. She fled our home in the middle of the night. I tracked her here.”

“So why did you stay?”

“Because returning home without a mate is
not
an option.”

She heard the hurt in his voice as clearly as if he’d confessed to it, and knew there was more to his story than a simple lovers’ quarrel. When Samantha left him, she’d clearly taken something more important than companionship. She’d stolen his pride.

They walked down Lexington through the usual throng of New Yorkers hurrying to and from somewhere vitally important. Someone slammed into Roxi’s shoulder and she took a step closer to Donovan. Not that she needed his protection. Since coming to New York, she’d learned to grip the strap of her purse tightly and watch where she was going. Still, she liked knowing he was right by her side, watching over her as he did at Moderne.

“I live here.” She stepped out of the crowd to stand at the edge of the sidewalk, and pointed at the three-floor brownstone nestled behind a wrought-iron gate. Before he could say anything, she gathered her courage and blurted out, “You should come up.”

Donovan’s gaze turned positively feral. He took a step closer.

Roxi stumbled backward until she hit the gate. Her pulse ratcheted up a few notches.

“Are you absolutely sure?” His voice was husky and low, and it sent a tremor through her that had nothing to do with the winter chill.

Roxi tilted her head and met his gaze full on. “I am not afraid of you. Perhaps I should be… My mother would want me to be.” A dry chuckle escaped her throat. “But I am not.”

He stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. His fingers felt warm against her frozen skin. “You’re either very brave or very foolish.”

“Some women enjoy playing with fire.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Courting danger?”

“You tell me.” She willed her voice not to shake. “Are you really so dangerous, Donovan Armstrong?”

He lowered his head until his lips hovered a breath away. “You have no idea.”

And then he slammed his mouth against hers, demanding, insisting, stealing the very essence of her soul. Her knees buckled. Roxi didn’t trust her body to keep her upright, so she grabbed his jacket, pulling herself tightly against him.

He groaned into her mouth. She opened to him, met his tongue with hers. He wanted to take, and she wanted to be taken. Right here, up against this gate. Nothing else mattered but Donovan’s mouth, his tongue, the nip of his teeth against her lip.

Not the cold. Not the layers of clothing standing in their way. Not even the people strolling by. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and feel his cock driving into her body, again and again and—

“Excuse me.” The gate at Roxi’s back rattled. “I said,
excuuuuuse
me!”