Page 3 of Beg for You

The other woman stopped in her tracks and turned back around.

A man stood across from me in the curtained doorway. He was tall, his head brushing the top of the doorframe, and he was big, everywhere. His arms and neck were covered in bright tattoos, and though I couldn’t see them, I knew the rest of him would be as well. The T-shirt he wore was plain black and fit his monster chest and shoulders in a way that hid nothing. This man had a lot of muscles. In fact, I was pretty sure he was all muscle. My gaze dropped before I could stop myself, checking out the rest of him. His long legs were encased in black denim, heavy black boots on his feet. He was…terrifying. Huge.

Pure sin.

I wasn’t sure what kind—good, like overindulging in chocolate, or bad, like beating a man to a pulp just for looking at him sideways—but I got the feeling he’d be more than proficient at whatever form he chose to undertake. There was no doubt in my mind that this man was exactly what he advertised. There would be no monster lying in wait, hiding under a beautifully tailored suit and a charming smile. If this man had a monster inside him, he wouldn’t bother to conceal it.

My gaze slid to the front of his jeans, to the way the soft denim hugged the impressive bulge there…

I swallowed, trying to get some moisture back in my suddenly dry throat, and quickly looked back up. Half his face was concealed in shadows, but I could see his eyes were dark, almost black, and he was staring back, gaze unwavering. I blinked. Something about them gave me pause—they were familiar? But I couldn’t hold them long enough to work out what it was I thought I saw, and instead I stared at his mouth. A scar slashed through his lips on one side, starting just out from his nose and finishing halfway down his chin.

Gloria sashayed over to him, and I watched in horrified fascination as she plastered herself against him and went up on her toes. He leaned in and kissed her deeply.

Humiliation burned my cheeks and something curled tight in my lower belly, my skin suddenly too hot. He lifted his head and said to her, “Next week.”

Then his dark, extremely intense eyes were back on me. I jolted in my seat. God, I needed to get out of here. I didn’t belong in this place.

And wasn’t that just the story of my life?

I stood, swung my bag over my shoulder, and headed for the door, right behind sashaying Gloria in her skyscraper heels.

“Hold up,” that gravelly, jarringly deep voice said from behind me.

A shiver arrowed down my spine, and I stopped so fast it was like I was tethered to the owner of that rumbling brutal voice. Instead of bolting for the door, I found myself turning around before I could command my body to do otherwise.

He wasn’t in shadow anymore, he’d taken a step toward me, and the scar on his lip wasn’t his only one. Another ran down his cheek. It started at his jaw and carried on up, above his ear and across his skull, leaving a thin white line through his cropped hair.

“You here for me?” he said. “Bull’s not on tonight.”

I stumbled back a step before I could stop myself, like he’d roared the words at me. And what kind of a name was Bull?

He ignored my reaction, the rude way I stared at him, and lifted a hand to the doorframe above. His colossal bicep bulged.

Zaps of electricity fired through my lower belly. What is wrong with me?

One of his eyebrows lifted.

I forced my brain to form words. “No, thank you. I…I don’t think so.”

“Were you here…for a consultation?” His head tilted to the side, and there was no mocking expression on his face, just curiosity.

I was gripping my bag strap so tight now my knuckles ached. “I’m sure this is a…a reputable establishment.” I inwardly cringed at the superior tone of my voice. I had a tendency to hide behind it when I felt threatened, and right then I felt threatened in more ways than I knew how to process. “But I think I’ve come to the wrong place.”

Hester, my grandmother’s nurse, said he was a specialist. Her daughter Emily had used him before. He looked more like a thug to me. A sexy, scarred thug with arms that bulged with muscle and thighs like tree trunks.

This couldn’t be the right man.

My mouth was dry again.

His hands came up, like he was showing me he wasn’t armed. I got the feeling he had to do that a lot. “Who were you looking for?” he asked.

I opened my bag and rummaged around for the piece of paper Emily had given Hester with the details. I stared down at it and shook my head. Not one for details was our Emily. I looked up at him. “Cal?”

He frowned a little. “That’s me.” Then he just stared at me, like he was waiting for some punchline, like there was some inside joke he expected me to catch onto and roll with.

“Right, well…” Now what? I could leave. I could walk out that door and forget this ever happened. I wanted to. I really wanted to.

If you don’t do this now, you never will.