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CHAPTER2
Cassidy
With power came danger and men who dealt in both exuded a seductive, dangerous aura. The man inside the restaurant was malevolent, virile, and strong, a predator who savored every moment of feasting on an innocent soul.
I shivered from the alluring thought, incapable to finding the right words to describe him adequately. As I glanced toward the moon, the visions became reflective, filthy, and vile. And I loved every one of them.
Life was cruel.
I’d just met the man of my dreams and I’d never see him again. Even if I could, I couldn’t allow myself a taste. I wasn’t a danger junkie.
Or was I?
The breath caught in my lungs as I thought about him, doing my best to keep from turning around and staring at his intoxicating masculinity again. At least I’d kept my cool while he’d undressed me with his eyes, only it hadn’t been just about peeling away my bargain basement special skirt or one of the few nice silk blouses I owned. He’d stripped away my packaging as if opening a fine piece of chocolate, drinking in the aroma before daring to unveil the rich decadence inside.
He’d been larger than life and the moment he’d walked out from behind the kitchen door, my entire mind had almost turned to mush. I’d allowed myself a crushing vision of him taking me into his arms, refusing to accept no as an answer, sliding the tough pads of his fingers across my skin. His hardened expression would seem cold to anyone else who’d come in contact with him, but I’d seen through the mask of steel he’d chosen to wear to the fire flickering inside. The man was a risky vice, but fantasies lived out in the lurid dark reaches of my mind.
It was rare for me to consider a man stunning, but with Valentin, I was fully aroused from a single look, but he was the exception to any rule. When he’d approached, I’d felt the warmth pooling between my legs.
Flames had erupted all around us, the ignition switch hot. Everything about the man screamed of domination and power, his aura crackling with electricity. He had obsidian dark hair, the thick waves highlighting his aristocratic high cheekbones and chiseled jaw. Even in the dim lighting, the way he’d looked at me had been destructive, all consuming. There was no hiding his sinewy muscles even under his perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His jaw was angular, chiseled to the point I could swear it would cut through stone.
He was model gorgeous except that there was such an air of danger surrounding him that it took away from his natural beauty. Even his voice was like the softest velvet yet commanding in the way he enunciated words.
His eyes had smoldered as he’d looked at me, an invitation of the very filthy activity he’d alluded to. They were the bluest I’d ever seen, holding an intensity about them. They also exuded as much power as the rest of him, a fierceness that had captured his soul a long time ago.
In my mind, the stranger had devoured me, allowing me to see his predatory methods for a brief second, sinful images that should drive me straight to the confessional. There was no doubt he was a savage man, but that intrigued me even more. What was he doing running a restaurant and bakery in a fashionable section of New York?
There was something terrifying about his dark beauty, the allure that threatened to pull me into a deep abyss. However, I could study him for hours, drinking in his angular jaw and broad shoulders. Jesus. His scent was breathtaking, leaving me tingling all over. I could still gather a whiff of his glorious aftershave even through the rich aroma of something incredibly delicious.
My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten all day, the package of goldfish crackers hardly fulfilling. However, the burning hunger swelling inside of me had nothing to do with the need for nourishment. I smiled at my lurid thoughts, dragging my tongue across my lips. The man was certainly edible. He exuded raw animal magnetism, which was something I’d never experienced before.
Bad girl. Very bad girl.
What did I care? I’d never see him again and what a shame. For some reason my palms were sweaty, my heart rate just as rapid as it had been before. I felt slightly dizzy and laughed at myself because it was all about being aroused by a mysterious stranger. I wasn’t that kind of girl. In fact, I’d barely paid attention to men at all, concentrating on making a name for myself in the competitive world of media.
But this man, this delicious chunk of chocolate was perfect. I could spend hours licking him. Sighing, I admonished myself, almost dropping the pastries given my lack of concentration.
He wasn’t just a typical bad boy. He was a man not to be trusted, someone who could twist me into indulging in a fantasy. I almost laughed. When was the last time I’d been out on a date, let alone had a wild night of any kind? The answer was depressing.
Two years?
I exhaled, only realizing at that moment that the taxi I’d insisted wait for me had sped off, leaving my single suitcase tossed on the sidewalk.
“Bastard,” I snarled, yanking the case to an upright position. I was lucky no one had stolen it. I didn’t miss being in New York one bit.
“Damn it,” I hissed, immediately searching for another taxi up and down the dimly lit street. It wasn’t late by any means in the Big Apple, but this location was obviously not highly trafficked at this time of night.
I’d taken far too much time toying with Mr. Dangerous. Damn it. Sighing, I yanked on the handle of my suitcase, continuing to curse as I headed toward the corner. The plane had landed over three hours late. I’d thought I’d have plenty of time to find the freaking eclairs my mother had insisted on. With several bakeries closed and the others sold out of the pastry, this had been my last stop. Obviously, it had been for the impatient taxi driver, who’d cursed me out more than once. I should have forced my mother to learn to live with disappointment, even if everything had to be perfect in her world.
After glaring at the pastries, I picked up my pace, determined to find an open bar before falling into bed.
The eclairs smelled as sinful as they looked, the rich dark chocolate tempting, but not nearly as much as Mr. Dangerous had been. At least I could still dream. After wrangling with the box of goodies, I yanked my phone from my purse, moving toward the cross street. It looked like I’d be taking an Uber. I found the number and hit dial, struggling to keep the box under my arm.
Then my hackles rose as I felt a presence behind me.
Before I had a chance to react, the unknown assailant attacked, smashing something against the back of my head. I was pitched forward onto the sidewalk, the feel of cold hard steel pressed against my temple terrifying. I watched as the box tumbled to the street, the contents splattered from the force, my suitcase knocked against a parked car. The sight of the eclairs pitched onto the cracked asphalt pissed me off almost as much as being assaulted by some prick.
“Just want your purse, bitch.” The voice was gravelly, quaking as if the asshole was on drugs. While I knew better than to fight back, self-defense had been ingrained my nature. Addicts could be unpredictable, but my gut told me this was something else entirely.
