Page 45 of Look, Don't Touch

“Goodbye, Hailey.” I release her hand, turn, and walk away.

How could I not have known? How could I not have realized?

Now so many things make sense. Her red hair. Her appreciation for the blindfold. Her curves. Her scent.

We both Crave.

Dr. Hailey Fitzpatrick is my option one. And I am hers.

“She’s ready for you.” The petite and curvy concierge speaks before the door is fully opened. I stop mid-pace in the holding room and nod. Normally, she backs out without another word, but this time, she hesitates.

“Yes?”

The woman’s dark brows furrow. I didn’t think them capable of the move. She’s always so serene. “I shouldn’t say anything.”

“But you want to. So go on.” I straighten my cuff links that need no straightening.

“The last time she was here, she used her safe word.” My guts twist as though a drunk teen is using them to jump rope. “Just go easy on her, okay?”

“How long ago?”

“One week exactly.” The concierge gives a flip of her hand. “You weren’t available. She settled, and then she pulled the plug only ten minutes into the session.” Her mouth pulls into a line. “It wasn’t pretty.”

The drunken teen must have thrown my guts into a fire because they burn with a rage so deep, I haven’t confronted the likes of in more than a decade. I was halfway across the world, and she was in need. “Was she hurt?”

“No.”

I glare.

“Not outside of her consent.”

I’m thankful I didn’t drink the two fingers of scotch waiting for me when I arrived. If I had, my contractor would be coming here to patch holes in Crave’s walls as well.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” She grimaces.

“Thank you for letting me know. It’s not overstepping. It’s information I should have to be able to give her what she needs.”

She nods and leaves. I wait until my need to hack a man’s arms from his body subsides. I pace and picture a faceless man. I imagine my knuckles cracking his eye sockets and jawbone. I think of his blood spattering my face and coating my hands.

This exercise isn’t having the intended effect. My heart races now more than it was five minutes ago. It’s taking too long, so I give up.

I move as if a fire alarm has been pulled. Now, more than ever before, I need to see her, to make sure she’s okay, even though I left her in the park only four hours ago.

When I open the door to our preferred room, she stands blindfolded in the center as I requested… only her clothes are already off, save for maroon stilettos. Her familiar tan coat lies in a rumpled heap near the leg of the bed. A thin scrap of black leather that might pass for a mini skirt is under a crooked painting, as though it hit the image of a lounging man getting his cock sucked and slid down the wall.

“Where have you been?” A clump of sequined material is clutched in her right fist. Her chest heaves.

I interrupted a bit of a tirade, and my interest is piqued off the charts. I cross to her and only stop when the tips of our shoes touch. Her warm breaths dance over my face. I smell the mint of toothpaste and the depth and spice of mulled wine.

“Shhhh.” I pull the fabric in her hand. Slowly, she releases it, and the clump unravels in the space between us. How fitting? How sad?

I lean close so I can whisper. Something that’s hard for my throat but imperative for tonight. “Right here.”

Her intake of breath rushes straight to my cock. She’s so close, the glorious heat from her naked body warms my neck. I swallow and ease back ever so slightly.

The very tip of my index finger presses against the forehead of her dragon. It’s situated over the rapid beat of her heart. Her lips part and I withdraw my finger, and then lift it to the top of her blindfold, touching the center of her forehead.

Her lower lip hangs, beautifully parted from her top. The desire to trace them engulfs me. It’s a strange feeling, to be drawn toward another person’s skin, instead of repulsed by it. As skin goes, hers is creamy and smooth. It’s hot and expressive, if that term can even be used to describe it. I can read her skin like a book. And now that I know it belongs to her, my siren, Hailey, I will read her skin like my favorite story.

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