What He Wants Read Free

stride, but he matched his to mine. I glanced over, annoyed,
expecting to see a homeless person, or perhaps a drunken bargoer who would try
to engage me in conversation.  
    My stomach flipped and my heart jumped
into my throat.   It was the
stranger from the bar.   Mr. X.
    “Hello,” he said.   His voice was smooth, but there was a
huskiness to it that I didn’t remember hearing before.  
    “Hi,” I said.   I swallowed.   Part of me was unnerved and a little scared.   Obviously this man had waited outside the bar for me to
leave. The other part of me was filled with excitement.
    “Didn’t feel like continuing the party?”
Mr. X asked me cheerfully.
    “No.   I, um, have to be up early tomorrow.”
    “On a Saturday?”   He seemed surprised by this, which
didn’t make much sense.   With the
way he was dressed, I just assumed he was another lawyer or perhaps worked in
finance.   He shouldn’t have been
surprised by the fact that I had to be up early on a Saturday.
    “Yes.”
    My original plan had been to grab a cab
and take it back to my apartment.   My little studio was fifteen blocks away, and I wasn’t in the mood to
walk that far, even though the night was warm.   My feet were killing me from the heels I was wearing.   But now that this man was beside me, I
didn’t want our time together to end.   I was willing to keep walking if it meant we could continue our
conversation.
    We turned the corner onto a side street,
and the crowd began to thin out.   There were no bars or restaurants in this area, and most of the retail
stores were closed.
    A second later, the man grabbed my hand
and pulled me into a space between the buildings.
    “What are you doing?”   I asked as he pushed his body up
against mine. I reached out and tried to push him away, but he was too strong,
his chest rock solid.   My nerve
endings were on fire, every sense on high alert as I breathed in his scent, a
heady mix of alcohol and cologne.
    He didn’t answer, just gave me a devilish
grin before taking a few steps back.   “If you want to go, go.”   His tone made it clear that he knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
    My breath was coming in short gasps.
    He licked his lips slowly and then his
gaze traveled up my body, like he was trying to decide just exactly what to do
with me.  
    He didn’t move for what seemed like an
agonizingly long time.   We just
stood there, our gazes locked on each other.   He was biding his time, I could tell, waiting for me to
leave, waiting for me to decide I couldn’t handle whatever it was he was about
to do to me.    My head was
screaming at me to move, to run, to get away.   My body was screaming the opposite.   So I stood my ground.   And finally, after what seemed like
forever, he took a step back toward me.
    He grabbed my shoulders and ran his hands
down my arms and over the X he’d drawn there earlier.   He smiled in satisfaction at his branding before raising his
eyes back up to meet my gaze.
    “Right now,” he rasped.   “You are mine.”
    And then his lips were on mine.   The kiss was like nothing I’d ever
experienced before.   He tasted like
mint and alcohol.   His lips were
soft but his skin had a rough stubble, and the difference in sensations sent a
burst of heat through my whole being.   My nipples tightened as he pushed his body up against mine, his tongue
probing my mouth.
    He broke away, then reached down and
grabbed my hand, pulling my right arm up over my head.   He repeated this maneuver with my left
arm, until both my hands were above my head and up against the wall of the
building behind me.
    He held me there with one hand, and used
his other hand to pull down the top of my dress, then grinned devilishly as he
yanked my bra down.   My nipples tightened
even more as the cold air hit my skin, and I bit my lip to keep from crying
out.
    Part of me knew this was wrong, and my
brain screamed at me to tell him to stop, to run, to get out of there.   But