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“Who are you?” While my earlier assessment only hours before at the wine and book bistro I owned had been correct, he was nothing but a liar. Still, the sense of foreboding stilled my heart. The man who called himself Alessandro was without a doubt the dark stranger, the man who’d unceremoniously pulled me out of an intense fog that had nearly derailed my life. He’d had no accent on the phone, yet in the bistro I’d easily detected his Spanish heritage. The dark timbre sent a shower of tenuous sensations straight to my core. I’d known one day he’d come for me, making good on a threat that seemed perversely more like the kiss of a promise, the draw to him unmistakably cruel yet undeniable.
How in God’s name hadn’t I been able to see through his façade, the pretense of bullshit he’d tossed at me only a few hours before? He’d dared to enter an establishment I owned, my beloved Corks and Books, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. And how had he managed to break down my defenses?
I sensed he was walking closer and then a stream of moonlight provided a partial silhouette. The intruder was tall, his massive frame sending a wave of tremors throughout my system.
“Don’t you recognize me, my sweet kitten? Tell me. Have you thought of me at night, wondering when I’d come for you? Have you fantasized about what I’d do, craving what you know only I can provide?” He stepped further into the shimmer staining the floor and I shuddered.
The limited light inside the bistro had kept me from fully recognizing him, but now, as he stood here, it was as if I’d always known him. Torment swam beneath the surface of the man. While his face remained expressionless, his eyes bore anger and hatred, taunting me for months for an unknown reason. Darkness enshrouded him, pulling against his godlike features. They appeared entirely different than those of the gorgeous man who’d enjoyed a glass of wine with me at the bistro while holding an intellectual discussion regarding my favorite book.
A stalker. He was nothing but a monstrous pursuer who’d disrupted my life. He’d accomplished his goal of hiding his real identity when he entered my bookstore, acting as if we’d just met. I fisted my hand, fighting off the sickening urges pulsing through me like a wildfire.
“What do you want?” I knew the answer. I’d pretended his warning wouldn’t occur. Four months had passed since then, every week allowing me to forget what he’d said would happen.
“What do I want? The answer is not what I want, but what I’m going to take. But you already know that. Don’t you?” His long, dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, his dark eyes piercing mine.
I backed away, taking careful steps toward the lamp on the nightstand by my bed. Without making a sound, I wrapped my fingers around the base, trying to watch his every move. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ve been a very bad girl, Sierra. You shouldn’t have angered me by contacting the police.”
“You need to get out of here. They’re already on their way.” While I tried to have conviction in my voice, I could tell I’d failed, my tone sounding weak. “They know exactly who you are.” My lie didn’t sound convincing.
He laughed again as he continued advancing like a predator. My body was paralyzed, my mind unable to think clearly.
“You must think me a fool, Sierra, but I can tell you enjoy playing our little game. I assure you that I’ll provide you with several opportunities to savor every moment of my domination. I will so enjoy stripping away the thick armor you’ve placed around yourself, revealing more of the sensual woman hidden inside. And I will enjoy watching you bloom, opening up to the rays of sunlight showered over every inch of your voluptuous body. However, it’s time for you to be punished. I’m not an easy man, Sierra. When I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging and screaming for more.”
His words skittered into my mind, my inner voice telling me to fight for my existence, yet the attraction to him remained, a crazy moment of feeling like I was spiraling out of control.
“You’re crazy,” I whispered, trying to plan how to escape.
“As I told you on the phone,mi dulce gatita, your life for his. I’ve come to collect for a debt owed to me and to my family. And I always make good on my promises.” He flicked on the only other light in the room and a feeling of utter suffocation formed in my throat as I gazed into his eyes. I blinked several times, trying to fathom how this had happened, how I wasn’t able to see through his deceit. I’d had a conversation with him. I’d allowed him to touch me, to kiss me.
To taste me.
To slide his fingers into my wetness, his tongue pushing me into a powerful orgasm.
And I’d hungered for more.
Why hadn’t I made the connection with the voice on the other end of the phone, the one I’d found myself looking forward to, disappointed when his calls stopped cold?
The scent of him reeked of exotic spices and cedar wood, the fragrance entirely too intoxicating. I was thrown by the haze forming around my eyes as I was forced to stare into his, his harsh gaze entirely different from the eyes of the man who’d attempted to seduce me at the bistro. His eyes were a glimpse into his pitch-black soul, the bottomless caverns tearing through me. But there was also a glimmer of light that terrified me even more.
Burning desire.
The man was going to devour me with or without my permission.
His expression was stern, commanding, yet it didn’t take away from his stunning good looks. Every muscle was honed to perfection, his angular jaw highlighted by the hint of a beard and mustache, his long eyelashes and hooded obsidian eyes finishing the dangerous vibe that he’d embraced. His presence commanded power and respect, and I sensed he would demand that from me.
Bullshit.
I’d never give it to him.
It was time to break the spell.
“I don’t who you really are or what you want, but if you don’t leave my home, I’ll have no choice but to have you arrested.”
His smirk indicated amusement. “As I said, I take what I want and it’s long past time.”
Inhaling, he tilted his head, his eyes sparkling in the dim lighting. His face was chiseled, his bone structure aristocratic. For some reason I concentrated on his voluptuous lips, almost pressing my fingers against mine as I remembered the few minutes of heated passion we’d shared at the bistro. He’d awakened something inside of me that I’d believed long dead. Even now, my panties remained damp from his searing touch and the remembrance of his commanding whispers.
