Hey, Nate, she's here, let's go," Saul gestured for me to come with them toward a dark coloured Suburban parked across two spaces in our lot. I couldn't tell who was inside due to the deeply tinted windows. That continued to add to my sense of fear.
As I walked between the two men Nate finally spoke up voicing his displeasure.
"I don't like the people out here, they're desperate, all of them. She isn't safe here."
It was a weird comment and off putting to say the least. It was like they were at a grocery store that wasn't good enough to shop at. I sniped back at him, "People out here do what they have to do to survive. Nobody except you all has ever hassled me."
The delivery might have been shaky, but I felt like fighting back a little.
Saul laughed and Nate just snorted as he opened the back passenger door of the Suburban and gestured me inside. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it still surprised me. Mr. Tall and Dark was back there already, otherwise known as Mr. Smith.
"Thank you for joining me for lunch today, Scarlett," he said with a smile
"Thank you for the invitation," came popping out of my mouth without a thought as I took my seat.
All the sudden I realised why Mr. Smith hadn't been the one to approach me at the clinic. My face was frozen and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. A moment too late I realised I was panting and tried to breathe normally. Nate put himself in the front passenger seat next to the driver, but it barely registered. I was so excited I'd broken out in a cold sweat.
Abruptly I was surrounded by the smell I'd been chasing all week. I cleared my throat and tried to look away but still couldn't. Coherent thought had left my head the moment I'd stepped into the vehicle. The only thing in my brain was the beautiful man in the other seat. His skin was even better than I remembered and I just wanted to reach out and stroke him. I didn't notice as the SUV pulled out of the lot.
Desperately, I tried to regain control of myself. Mr. Smith had a little smile on his face as he reached over and took my hand. He started to rub my palm with small soothing circles. His touch seemed to quell the panting I still hadn't managed to stop.
"Where are we going?" I asked, rousing from my stupor and remembering I'd just gotten in a car with strangers.
"The Club has reservations for us, I'm sure you'll find something you like there," said Mr. Smith. "Did you sleep well last night?" he asked with a tight smile.
"I think you know exactly how I slept!" I snapped at his cheeks blazing. My out of control emotions went from excited to angry in an instant. The nerve to ask that after breaking into my house.
The low rumble in his chest must have been a laugh, but it made both men in the front seat glance back.
Unexpectedly, I found myself sitting across his lap, my face just inches from his. He looked peeved, but still quite delicious.
"You shouldn't take things that make you that sleepy, it's not safe. Do you often take those types of things?"
"I take sleeping pills, Mr. Smith, when I am stressed and anxious and don't think I'll ever go to sleep. Like when someone pulls me into a bathroom stall for ... reasons," I glanced at the front seat and faltered then started back up, "or suddenly knows my name or has me followed by the police. For the record, I never expected to be entertaining company last night after I went to bed in my own house!" My voice had risen on a crescendo Pavarotti would be proud of as I stared right into his eyes. They were blue grey I noticed and very pleasant to look at.
The low growl emanating from his chest was definitely not a laugh this time. "No more pills. They aren't good for you," he stated with finality, "and please call me Donald."
I just stared right into those gorgeous eyes, "I'll take whatever I damn well please. I don't know you. I don't know why I'm here with you and if I'm correct this is the first actual conversation I've had with you. I won't stand to have you bossing me around. You don't even know me ... "
I would have finished with 'asshole' if my mouth wasn't suddenly crushed under his. Those warm lips moving against mine, his tongue sliding along the seam of my mouth requesting entry. Hell no. I would have kept my mouth closed but his hand was suddenly grasping the inside of my thigh and I gasped. He slipped his tongue in between my lips and I was helpless to stop him. His other hand moved to the back of my neck holding me securely in place.
The hand on my thigh moved up my stomach to my covered breasts and started to massage them gently through the fabric. He slowly brushed the underside, rubbing his thumb firmly over the nipple. I wanted to fight him, I really did, but everywhere he touched me I felt like I was on fire.
I arched into his hand and grabbed his shoulders to hold him close. As he started plucking at one nipple then the other, I moaned into his mouth. This seemed to spur him on, moving his hand back down to the inside of my now slightly spread legs. I couldn't believe I was responding to him
I felt him responding too, a thick bulge growing ever so quickly against the outside of my hip. I wanted to reach down and stroke him. It took every ounce of decency I still had not to. I focused instead on the parts of him I felt comfortable touching. I rubbed my hands over his chest and shoulders brushing over his rock hard nipples earning me a deep growl from his chest.
His mouth tasted wonderful, the scent of red wine wasn't there but he tasted heady and extremely male. I moved my tongue inside his decadent mouth as my fingers ran along his jawline. I felt his tongue pushing against mine in a wordless play to dominate the kiss. I retreated and let him explore me freely. When he withdrew from my mouth I nipped at his lower lip with my teeth, drawing out a faint groan.
His hand on my thigh had started to stroke the inseam of my pants. I wiggled against him, absorbing as much of his touch as I could. He broke the kiss to whisper against my mouth, "I prefer skirts, next time wear one for me."
Both my hands were grasping at his shoulders which made hitting him in the chest easy. I pulled away and screeched at him, "What is wrong with you? I don't take orders! I don't know you! I don't wear skirts!"
I felt flushed, angry, and very excited. If I had ever been with a guy that had ignited this in me I couldn't remember. He made me furious and needy all at the same time.
His grin was only slightly evil as he inclined his head to the side, "We are at The Club. Would you like to go inside?"
He nodded slightly to the front seat and the two men exited the vehicle. I had totally forgotten about them. Oh gods, how embarrassing to be making out like a teenager in the back seat in front of two of his employees. I was mortified and flushed even redder than before.
The driver took a slip from the valet and opened our door himself, standing to the side as I slid off Donald's lap onto the pavement. Donald quickly followed me and I felt his large fingers winding with mine.
Nobody outside seemed to pay me any attention. They were all staring with rap attention at my companion. Two valets were already opening the door to the restaurant for him and acknowledging him with almost imperceptible bowing of the head.
I was glad to step into the restaurant, I'm not well suited for the cold and my sweater provided only minimal protection. I shivered slightly and felt Donald's hand leave mine to slip an arm around my shoulders drawing me close. He was warm, so despite my reservations I just stayed where I was comfortable.
We were escorted to the back of the restaurant to a secluded circular booth. I assumed his companions would be joining us, but he was the only other person to slide into the booth with me.
"For the record, the first time I saw you, you were wearing a skirt," he said, smiling at me. His eyes were dancing with some internal fire and it made his grin look a little wicked.
"It's the only skirt I own, I take it you didn't go through my closet then," I questioned him scathingly.
His hearty laugh resounded in the confined space.
"I was much more interested in what I had laid in the bed. When I found you, you were draped in a most uncomfortable position over your couch, talking quite fluidly to a chair. Once you were in the bed, if it hadn't been for the occasional breathing you would have looked dead. I know you are angry with me, but what you took really isn't good for you."
His voice turned only slightly pleading as his hands came up around mine on the table. He gently stroked at my folded hands until he had taken one in each of his.
Despite the fact I should be creeped out by this entire experience he seemed so genuine. Something about him made me want to believe him. I still surprised myself a little when I conceded to him.
"Fine, no more pills, Donald, but not because of what you want."
He continued to rub my hands and smiled victoriously at me.
Our conversation was interrupted by a server arriving at the table. She took our drink orders and then walked quickly away. Of course not without faintly bowing her head to Donald as she left.
I had to ask, "Who are you and what's with all the bowing? Why the sudden interest in me? How do you know me?"
He sighed and put the back of his head against the booth. "Let me answer the simplest question first. I am Donald Smith and they bow because I am their leader. In our community that is an appropriate sign of respect."
He held up his hand to stop my next barrage of questions, and then interlaced our fingers again.