Chapter 8
I shivered as another gust of wind barreled through the parking ramp. This was a stupid idea. It had been since I first thought of it, but now that I was actively doing it—had been sitting here for nearly an hour, freezing—it was even dumber than when I first thought.
It might be early summer, but a cold front plus the turbulent feelings in my chest made this feel like late fall.
Half past one, and finally, the roar of a motorbike broke the quiet. I pushed to my feet, body numb from sitting so long. Gathering my most seductive smile, I changed from a heartbroken, trapped girl, into a woman of the night.
The bike stopped beside my car. Gone was the three-piece suit that he’d worn hours ago at the restaurant. The dark jeans were stained with an even darker substance. Black leather gloves and jacket covered his skin, but a black tee poked from the top behind the jacket’s zipper.
I smiled at my reflection in the matte black helmet. “Can I interest you in a nightcap?”
After the shitty date, eavesdropping on my father, and the blow up with Serena, it was now the middle of the night and I needed a distraction.
Slowly, Leonard lifted the visor. “You can’t be here.”
Rage spiked higher in my veins than the hurt of his rejection. It was a gamble coming here, and clearly, I lost. Turning sharply, I ripped open my door.
It slammed shut, nearly catching my fingers.
Leonard leaned over my car, breathing hard. “This isn’t a good time.”
He removed his helmet completely, revealing a hardness in his features I hadn't seen before. The playful, intellectual man who'd kissed me in an empty museum seemed miles away from this stern-faced stranger.
“Sorry for bothering you,” I said, tugging on the door handle. But his weight kept it from budging.
He ran a hand through his dark hair. “For heaven’s sake, woman, you never answered my texts, and you just show up here—how long were you waiting?”
I wrapped my arms across myself. “Not long.”
Leonard leaned down. “Anna….”
My gaze slid from his. It was too intense, too full of—
There was a dark rust stain on his neck. It was the wrong shade to be motor oil. I glanced at his jeans. Those were more visible now, and definitely not from his bike. Something darker, more concerning.
“Come upstairs, you’re freezing,” he chided, voice dropping to a more gentle tone.
Before I could protest, he slid his hand in mine and gave me a tug. I dogged after him, sneaking glances at the substance on his skin.
“What happened?” he demanded, pushing the button for the elevator to take us to the covered walkway that led into the apartment complex.
Gathering my bravado around myself like a shield, I said flippantly, “What makes you think something happened?”
“You showed up at my apartment with tears in your eyes.”
A loud cry of protest erupted from me. “I was not crying!”
“I said in your eyes, not on your cheeks, little author.” Leonard put his hand on the opening door to hold it for me. “You don’t have to tell me your troubles, Anna. But if it helps, I’ll listen.”
The time it took to reach his two-floor apartment suite was spent thinking. If this was a real relationship, I would confide in him. But try as I might, I couldn’t bring myself to cross that line. All I knew was that one wrong move, and this thing with him would be done too.
And why the thought of something that hadn’t lasted a fraction of what I had with my oldest friend breaking apart hurt just as bad was not something I wanted to address.
“Make yourself at home, I’ll go wash up and join you for that nightcap. And if you want to tell me, you can.” Leonard squeezed my fingers before going to the interior stairs and climbing to what I assumed was the master bedroom.
I walked to the bar cart in the chic living room and poured two glasses of expensive-looking scotch. This was a bad idea. But I carried them upstairs as a talisman against whatever bad feeling lurked in the corner of my mind.
Letting myself into his bedroom, I stopped short, my breath catching at the sight of him standing in the bathroom across the space. Water cascaded down his powerful back as he leaned over the sink, muscles shifting beneath smooth skin. The intimacy of the moment struck me—I wasn't supposed to be here, witnessing this private ritual. The sight of Leonard, nearly naked and vulnerable, brought out an undeniable hunger. Water dripped down his sculpted back as he scrubbed vigorously at his hands. I should have turned away, given him privacy, but I remained frozen, two glasses of scotch clutched in my hands.
I wanted him.
He glanced up, catching my reflection in the mirror. Our eyes locked for a moment before he reached for a towel.
“I should have knocked,” I said, my voice barely audible over the running water.
Leonard dried his hands methodically, each movement deliberate. “It’s fine.” He turned to face me, making no move to cover himself further. “Is one of those for me?”
I nodded, extending a glass toward him. As he approached, I noticed faint bruising along his ribs and a small cut above his eyebrow I hadn’t seen before.
“What happened to you?” I breathed.
He shook his head. “We’re not talking about me.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk about me either,” I asserted, holding out the scotch. “I just want to feel.”
Leonard prowled closer. He took the glass without breaking eye contact. “Salud.”
“Cheers.” I downed the liquid. Fire clawed down my throat, but I refused to cough.
An impressed look flashed through his black eyes.
Seizing the moment, I stepped into him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He bent over me, mouth coming down to claim my kiss.
I moaned. The fire burned me both internally and I swore my skin was scorched. His mouth was hot against mine, tasting of scotch and something darker—something uniquely him. My fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him closer as his arm wrapped around my waist, pressing me against the solid warmth of his chest.
“Anna,” he breathed against my lips, my name a question and a warning.
I answered by deepening the kiss, my tongue sliding against his. I didn't want to think about Serena's betrayed face or my parents' schemes or the blood I'd seen on his clothes. I wanted only this—the heat building between us, the way his hands seemed to know exactly where to touch me.
He broke away, dark eyes searching mine. “This is more than a nightcap.”
“Does it matter?” I whispered, my fingers tracing the bruise on his ribs. “I’m here now.”
Leonard caught my hand, pressing it flat against his stomach. “You said slow.”
“Fuck slow.” I slid my palm down his cut torso, unable to help the shivers at the feel of him. I cupped his hard cock.
Leonard’s eyes darkened to midnight as he caught my wrist, stilling my exploring hand. For a heartbeat, I thought he would push me away.
“Are you sure?” His voice was rough, controlled.
I nodded, not trusting my own voice. In this moment, all I wanted was to lose myself in him, to forget everything else.
With a fluid movement, he lifted me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the bed. My dress bunched around my hips, his hands sliding beneath the fabric to grip my thighs.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against my neck, “and I will.”
“Don’t stop,” I whispered, arching into him as he laid me down on the cool sheets.
His fingers worked at the zipper of my dress, sliding it down with agonizing slowness. Every touch was deliberate, every movement calculated to draw out the pleasure building between us. As he peeled the fabric away, his eyes followed, taking in each new inch of exposed skin with an intensity that made me shiver.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice a low rumble as he traced the curve of my hip with calloused fingers.
I reached for him, needing to feel his weight on me, but he caught my hands, pinning them gently above my head.
“Not yet, little author,” he whispered. “Let me read you first.”
His mouth followed the path his fingers had blazed, tasting the hollow of my throat, the curve of my collarbone, the swell of my breast. I gasped as he took a nipple between his teeth, teasing through the thin fabric of my bra until I was writhing beneath him.
“Leonard,” I moaned, his name a plea on my lips as he released my hands to trail his own down my sides.
“Tell me what you need,” he commanded softly, his fingers hooking into the lace of my underwear.
“You,” I breathed. “Just you.”
With a fluid motion, he slid the delicate fabric down my legs, leaving me exposed to his gaze. The vulnerability should have frightened me, but there was something in the way he looked at me—reverent, hungry—that made me feel powerful instead.
Leonard stood, shedding the boxers from his waist. My breath caught at the sight of him fully naked, all hard muscle and intent. He was magnificent, and the knowledge that he wanted me sent a fresh wave of heat through my body.
He reached into a drawer beside the bed, extracting a condom. As he rolled it on, his eyes never left mine. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming. This wasn’t just physical desire—there was something deeper happening between us, something I hadn’t planned for.
When he lowered himself over me again, I welcomed his weight, my legs parting to cradle his hips. His forehead pressed against mine, our breaths mingling as he positioned himself.
“I’ve waited for this longer than I’ve waited for anything I wanted,” he growled, his control visibly straining.
In answer, I lifted my hips, guiding him to where I needed him most. The first push of him inside me drew a gasp from my lips. He moved with exquisite restraint, giving me time to adjust to the feel of him.
“Fuck, Anna,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire.
I clung to his shoulders as he began to move, setting a rhythm that had me arching beneath him. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once—caressing my breast, sliding down to grip my hip, tangling in my hair. Every touch sent electricity coursing through me, building a pressure that threatened to consume me completely.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly, and I obeyed, meeting his gaze as he moved within me.
The connection was shattering—more intimate than I’d expected, more powerful than I’d prepared for. In his eyes, I saw not just desire but something deeper, something that terrified and thrilled me in equal measure.
His rhythm quickened, each thrust driving me closer to the edge. I wrapped my legs tighter around him, urging him deeper, wanting everything he could give me.
“Let go for me,” he whispered against my ear, his hand sliding between us to where we were joined.
His touch against my clit was my undoing. I shattered beneath him, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crashed through me. He followed moments later. His massive frame shuddered.
When the world stopped spinning, I became aware of Leonard’s weight on me, his breathing harsh against my neck. He shifted, rolling to his side and taking me with him, keeping our bodies connected as he tucked me against his chest.
“That was….” I began, but words failed me.
“Yes,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to my temple. “It was.”
We lay in silence for several minutes, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. The intimacy of the moment should have terrified me—this wasn’t part of the plan. The plan had been to use him, to parade him in front of my parents as the ultimate act of rebellion. Instead, I found myself curling closer, savoring the warmth of his body against mine.
“Can I get you anything?” Leonard asked finally, his voice gentle but insistent.
I sighed, pressing my forehead against his. “Water?”
He nodded, squeezing me tight before moving off the bed. His bare footsteps echoed down the hall. Whatever devil lived in my chest drove me to jump up. I hurried to the bathroom where I found the discarded pile of clothes. I pressed a particularly dark spot, and my fingers came away sticky with blood. Leonard had bruises, but not a single cut marked his body.
Whatever he’d been doing…I shivered. He might not know the truth about me, but I had a feeling there was so much more to this man than I suspected.
It both thrilled and terrified me.