Thrill Seekers: Erotic Encounters. Elizabeth Coldwell

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Shining Knight

       Flora Dain

      ‘Get in.’

      The limo blocks my path, the rear door already yawning open. It screeched to a halt right up on the kerb, blocking the end of the alleyway, leaving me nowhere to run.

      The men behind me are gaining now, their trainers pounding the pavement. They’re nearly on me, laughing to each other as they close in.

      To them it’s a game.

      I got a head start with a sharp knee to a groin and made for the side roads but I can’t run far. My skirt’s too tight, my heels too high and I’m desperate.

      I’ve no time even to kick them off.

      At the first lunge of the gang towards my plunging neckline – ripping the thin satin away from one breast, exposing the upper curve of the other – they sensed fear. My dash to escape was pure panic – a blind deer-leap for freedom at a whiff of wolf.

      My one hope was the high street. It’s late now, well after midnight, but surely someone will see me, look up at the chase, be startled enough or kind enough to call the police …

      But now the limo bars the way and the pack’s almost here.

      I’ve no choice. I launch myself through the open door as eager hands from behind clutch at what’s left of my three-thousand dollar Alaïa. I collapse into the upholstered luxury of the back seat, fighting for breath.

      The car speeds away, silent and swift, and I’m safe.

      Or am I?

      The man sitting at the other end of the seat is elegant and unruffled. I envy him his calm.

      He has clearly not just run for his life from a gang of eager young males intent on mayhem. His ankle is not twisted, his eyes are not wild and he’s not clawing in great lungfuls of air, his chest straining with pain and effort.

      The car is enormous but he’s sitting alone. His piercing gaze both strips me naked and disapproves at the same time.

      His eyebrow lifts, faintly sardonic. ‘Friends of yours?’

      ‘No,’ I rasp. He thinks I run about the streets just for fun?

      I take hold of myself. This is no time to lose my temper. I owe him.

      I can just about speak now but pain darts through my chest like needles. About four streets ago my lungs seemed to lose the use of oxygen. Now it’s slicing back.

      ‘Thank you for …’ I tail off.

      I want to thank him for rescuing me, this shining knight who’s scooped me up from an alleyway like a stray cat, but I pause, lips parted.

      Is he a shining knight? Or an enemy? Maybe I’ve escaped one foe only to fall foul of another.

      Past his shoulder I catch my reflection in the car window. Is this what he sees? My grandmother came from Naples. I owe her my full, sculpted mouth, long legs and striking figure.

      My looks can cause me problems, like they did just now. My passionate nature’s far worse but that’s hardly her fault. That’s all me.

      Tonight it’s brought me to this. And as I take a good look at my rescuer it’s my undoing now.

      He’s stunningly handsome, and not just in a regular, look-at-me-I’m-rich kind of way. There’s a delicate appeal in the tilt of his eyebrows, a hint of power in the set of his jaw, arrogance in the flare to his nostrils.

      Irresistible.

      Our eyes lock and in that instant I’m lost. I’ll do whatever this man wants me to do. And from the way his eyes are feasting on my heaving breasts, scanty, torn dress and alley-spattered limbs I’ll probably have to.

      He frowns. ‘Do you need a hospital? Police?’

      He wants to know if I was attacked. I shake my head and count my blessings. ‘No. I just panicked when they tore my …’ I tail off.