Page 9 of Renard's Deliverance

Sit around and twiddle his thumbs?

Go to the club and spank naughty subbies? Tie up a masochist and whip her ass? Or his ass?

He preferred to fuck a woman, was attracted to women, but he was fluid when it came to play. Sometimes he couldn’t go as far as he sometimes wanted to with a female sub. Even with a masochist who really desired his firm touch.

Sometimes his protective instincts reared their heads at the most inconvenient times.

And when they did, people usually got all grateful to him for saving them . . . blah, blah, blah.

He didn’t want to deal with people.

And yet they kept inserting themselves into his life.

He glanced at his calendar on the way out of his apartment. In six months’ time, he’d have enough money.

And then he could get out of this place.

Renard had plans. Something he hadn’t told anyone about because he knew they’d try to talk him out of it.

But it was for the best.

This life wasn’t what he deserved.

* * *

“Don’t do it, darlin’,”a voice drawled from beside him.

Fuck.

He glanced to his side. He hadn’t even heard her approach, which wasn’t usual for him.

Renard was always on guard.

“What?” he snapped.

Shit. He didn’t mean to snap at her. His demons weren’t her fault.

Sometimes pain led you to do or say things you didn’t mean.

However, she didn’t scatter away. Instead, she just folded her curvy body into a chair next to him.

“Please, have a seat,” he said without any real sarcasm.

“Thanks. I’m tired as all heck, today.”

His gaze moved over her. She didn’t look just tired, she appeared exhausted. What the hell? Weren’t the men in this town meant to take care of the women who lived here?

“Why isn’t someone making you rest?” he demanded.

Her lips twitched. She had a bright red lipstick tonight and her hair was a bleached white-blonde and teased up so high that he wondered how she could walk with it like that.

She had the sort of body men might fight wars over. Curves in all the right places. A tucked in waist, wide hips, breasts that . . . well, a man could get lost in.

Her bright pink shirt had rhinestones along the collar and she’d undone several of the buttons down to nearly the middle of her chest.

The woman was fucking beautiful.

And not for him.

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