When her fuzzy thoughts came back into focus, the car had driven away, leaving her to wonder who had been watching her.
The day came and went quickly. Viv invited her to The Brewery again, this time without the company of the asshole who had been invited previously, but Elsa wasn’t up to it.
Instead she showered, changed and decided to catch a bus to Grace Street for a stroll. Unlike most people she knew, she enjoyed public transportation and the opportunity it gave her to be an uninvited spectator into the secret lives of others.
During her short walk to the bus station, she felt the peculiar sense of eyes on her and on several occasions, she stopped in her path to turn around and take in her surroundings. The sun wasn’t quite set yet and low on the horizon, but the shadows on the street were prominent, making the atmosphere feel unsettling. Thoughts of being attacked and pulled into a darkened corner besieged her. As panic began to surface, she reached into her jacket pocket and tightly gripped her mace, ready to burn the eyes of any would be assailant, and picked up her walking pace. She couldn’t be sure if she was just being paranoid, but she swore she heard footsteps behind her matching her pace.
The bus stop was only a few hundred feet away and she jogged the remainder of the distance, relieved when she came to an overhead light where several others were waiting. With her heart pounding in her chest, she eased herself onto the bench, feeling somewhat safer in the company of others, though not much.
Suddenly, there it was: the smell of citrus and bergamot. Surely she was imagining things. Her eyes darted around and she leaned into the man sitting next to her, inhaling his aroma, but all she could smell on him was his sweat. Just then a large bus squealed to a halt in front of them. The doors flung open and she pushed her way to the front of the crowd and scrambled on.
Once on the bus, she let out a loud sigh of relief. Her mind was racing and her mouth parched from fear. Sinking low into the seat, she scanned the bus, her eyes becoming fixated on an amorous couple who were discretely trying to cop a feel. A smile danced on her mouth at the sight of it. She felt dirty watching them, like some kind of perverted onlooker, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of them. When the petite woman giggled and tried to pull away, the unassuming, thin man with black horn-rimmed glasses got a wild look in his eyes and yanked her back roughly and whispered something harsh into her ear as he slid his hand up the inside of her thigh and under her skirt, making her mewl with delight. Elsa’s breathing quickened at what she was witnessing and she shifted in her seat, her nethers becoming damp with arousal. When she did, her movement caught the man’s attention and his eyes darted toward her. He gave her a lewd smile as he continued to work his fingers into his girlfriend, all the while the girl panted softly with her eyes closed.
Elsa felt her cheeks flush and her body temperature rise, but she found herself unable to peel her gaze away from the spectacle before her. It was compelling, dirty and gratuitous. Her mouth parted and she licked her lips, wishing she was on the receiving end of his long fingers when the man suddenly looked away and redirected his attention back on his lover, crushing his mouth over hers and kissing her violently. It was beautiful and shameless.
Just then the bus squeaked to a halt, jolting all the passengers forward and forcing Elsa out of her voyeuristic entrancement.
She found a small café she had been eager to visit since noticing it several weeks before and seated herself in a corner booth. After ordering a large diet Coke, she placed her earbuds in and fired up some James Blunt and opened a book she had brought along. She began humming when the same smell from earlier hit her like a ton of bricks. Her eyes flicked upward and she pulled her earbuds out. Sitting directly in front of her was Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous himself. His intense stare bored into her as he sat silently watching her and made no effort to make polite conversation or explain his presence. He had the same just-got-fucked-hair, impeccable attire and scent of expensive aftershave. Elsa came to the frightening realization that he had most likely followed her there and that it was him she had sensed earlier on the darkening street. When she sat quiet for nearly a minute trying to make sense of everything and staring at him impatiently, a crooked grin spread over his chiseled face.
“Aren’t you curious as to why I’m here?” he finally asked, his eyes narrowed down to mere slits.
She swallowed hard and chewed the corner of her lip fretfully. Sliding her hands off the table, she reached into her coat pocket and touched the mace. “Curious isn’t the word,” she whispered, gawking at his firm, oxblood-red lips.
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Then, what?”
“Uncomfortable.”
His smile widened only the faintest bit. “I like uncomfortable.”
Yes, she could sense that about him. He was visibly pleased with her unease, just like he had been at the bar. Unclear of his intentions, Elsa pressed her body into the back of the booth, trying to put some distance between them, but her actions only made him move forward, closer to her, like a wild, jungle cat stalking its prey. Maybe that’s what she was to him - prey. But damn if he wasn’t stunning to look at all in all his terrifying glory and dark eyes. At least this time he didn’t smell like another woman’s sex, but even at that, it had been a nice scent on him, even if it wasn’t her own fragrance seeping out of his pores.
“Do you find me attractive, Elsa?” he asked in the deepest, most deceptively calm voice.
Her eyebrows rose. He hadn’t forgotten her name. “Any sensible woman would,” she replied coolly.
Tipping his head back, the light caught the bright white of his eyes and she could finally see the true color of his irises – the deepest green with hazel specks.
“Your eyes are the most amazing color,” she unintentionally whispered when she became ensnared in his watchful gaze.
His mouth twitched with what appeared to be agitation and something menacing flickered in his eyes. “If you find me attractive then why did you refuse my card?” he asked, completely ignoring her remark.
If he really wanted to persist with this line of questioning, then she would just come out and say it. “Because you seemed dangerous.”
The twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable. “Oh, I am dangerous. Doesn’t that appeal to you?”
She let out a short breathy laugh. Who the hell was this guy? And come to think of it, what was his interest in her? “I suppose to a certain degree it does, but I’ve had my share of dangerous men and I’m over it.”
The man’s left brow rose infinitesimally. “But you haven’t had my brand of dangerous.”
Elsa wasn’t sure she liked the suggestive tone of his voice, but still - her insides jangled with unwelcome excitement. She did, after all, like a bit of menace in her men. She also liked it rough when it came right down to it. Or at least the idea of rough. No man had ever actually given her what she really wanted, or needed for that matter. Not even Patrick had given her all that she yearned for.
Nervous and exhausted with Mr. Dangerous and trying to assess his unreadable features, she rose to leave. As devastating as his appeal was, she didn’t need the drama in her life. Not when she had moved nearly six hundred miles to start fresh. In the blink of an eye, she felt a strong hand on her. His touch was fiery and possessive, halting her escape. A soft gasp left her mouth and she looked down to see his long fingers wrapped tightly around her small wrist.
“Please sit, Ms. Cassidy,” his voice was soft but alarming.
Her heart leapt into her throat, not only from his touch but his use of her surname. The heated look passing over his expression and the flame in his eyes were more revealing in his intentions than anything he had spoken to her. Elsa had seen a look like that cast on her before, though not nearly as intense, and she knew it meant nothing but trouble. Something about a man’s masculinity and dominance spoke to that depraved part of her that made her want to do bad, bad things. And this man was no exception. Or maybe he was the exception; a decadently, beautiful and perilously mysterious exception who would allow her to give into her wanton desires.