Page 8 of Stealing Cinder

He grabs for my arm, but his beefy, sweaty fingers never make contact.

Samuel catches the man's wrist mid-reach and tosses it aside. He makes it look effortless, like brushing lint off a tailored sleeve.

"You have to ask permission before you can touch a lady."

Samuel’s tone says he’s not open to discussing the issue.

My date's mouth hinges open. His gaze swings to the shadows behind Samuel where two men have materialized out of the dark. They’re just as big as Samuel and the bulges near their sides say they are armed.

Samuel nods once toward his enforcers.

The bodyguard gathers my date up and escorts him toward the exit without a single flinch of resistance.

Surprisingly. I guess he wised up once he was lifted off the stool by a man the size of a vault.

Around us, the lounge has completely cleared out. Banquettes sit empty. Glasses are abandoned on low tables. The room belongs to Samuel and me.

I open my mouth to tell him I had it handled, but that would be a lie.

“You make it a habit of saving damsels in distress?” My God, could I sound any cornier?

The tilt to the corner of his lip tells me he’s not totally turned off by my line, but what else do you say to a mobster who just tossed your date out the door and wants to take the empty stool at your side?

Suddenly it’s very hot in here.

I think that is my cue to say my goodbye. I can thank him at the door and walk away with whatever's left of my dignity. A drink and solving one minor life issue was supposed to take my mind off the bigger problems. Apparently life can never be that easy for me.

I slide off the stool and step sideways, angling out of his orbit. A light touch at my elbow draws me up short. His warm fingers barely caress over my skin, and still every muscle in my body goes still.

"Please join me for a drink." His head tilts, just enough for the amber light to catch the silver at his temples and the trim of his dark beard. "I’d hate to see your evening end on such a terrible event."

He moves in closer, his wide body blocking the exit from view. My world narrows down to only him. "It's okay. Seems about right for the way my life is going right now. It’s literally one issue after another," I offer and leave it at that. I am not going to be the woman who pours her heart out to a stranger in a sex club. They don't have enough booze in this place to make me forget the weight sitting low in my belly.

"Which life issue has that frown on your face tonight?"

He steps aside and silently waits with his hands loose at his sides. He's giving me an exit should I choose to take it.

I’m not prepared for the onslaught of bad ideas running through my head, but I take his hand when he places it in front of me. Our palms slide together as I let him guide me toward a nearby table. His fingers swallow mine, warm and rough-skinned, and the shock of real contact after hours of cold marble and colder company runs through me with a force that erases all the rigid events of the day.

Lavender reappears at the edge of my vision. We make quick eye contact and then share a nod of understanding. The entire conversation happens in a single second. Her raised brow says, I've got you if this goes sideways. But also, girl, he's gorgeous.

The power of a best friend is priceless.

Samuel pulls out my chair and I glide onto the leather. He takes the seat across from me, brings it to my side and settles his large frame on the chair. This close, his body heat mingles with mine as does his enticing scent.

Dark eyes steadily hold mine. “Now, back to those issues you were speaking of.”

He takes my hand and I slip my palm over his. I watch in the darkness as this complete stranger places a warm kiss on each of my knuckles.

Shocks of uncertainty run through me, but genuine curiosity and a hint of concern soften his expression.

He moves in closer, close enough I can feel the warmth of his breath on the curve of my cheek when he whispers, “Tell me and maybe I can ease your pain, Princess.”

When he leans back in his chair my lips start moving as if under a spell.

"I could sit here all night and list them all out." Calluses brush over my skin to lift my chin, when I turn to look away.

“Go on,” he encourages me softly.