Page 2 of Ride Me

“Cut it out.” She glared, but there wasn’t much heat to it. “You have an active social life, and you don’t see me letting anyone give you any lip about it either. And this isn’t about gratitude or romanticizing one nice gesture. This is about sex, and me wanting to have it with someone I’m actually attracted to.”

Which for her was kind of a first. She had no illusions that she was any kind of seducer of men. There was a reason all of her previous sexual partners had been friends who happened to be available and amenable at the right time. It wasn’t the stuff fantasies were made of, but there was something to be said for satisfying a natural urge without excessive drama or complications.

That makes you sound just like your parents.

If it did, then she was breaking out of the familial mold now with a vengeance. Her feelings for Rousseau were not remotely friendly or simple. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, he’d become something of an obsession for her, and it didn’t have anything to do with free coffee and a chair.

The first time she’d seen him had been after one of her morning walks—her favorite part of the day, despite her physical discomfort. Mornings had their own special rhythm in New Orleans, giving her a glimpse behind the glitter and beads to see the community that actually made the magic happen.

Workers unloaded trucks to replenish the bars and restaurants that had been drained dry the night before. Artists, psychics, and performers staked out their places on the sidewalk and in Jackson square, sharing breakfast and gossip as they readied themselves for the crowds that were their bread and butter. Thankfully, those crowds had finally started coming back after Katrina.

That particular morning, Allegra had pushed too hard. She’d ended her walk leaning heavily on her cane, her skin covered in sweat as if she’d run a marathon instead of strolling a few simple blocks. She hated her body in that moment. The weakness of it. She could see the damn apartment, and all she had to do was cross the narrow street and climb one steep flight of stairs.

It might as well have been Mount Everest.

She’d lowered herself carefully onto the curb in front of a shop that smelled of espresso beans and chocolate, thinking it was as good a place to live as any. All she needed was a cold drink and a pillow, and she’d pay whatever rate curbs were going for these days.

“You look thirsty. How about an iced coffee?”

The voice that licked down her spine made her think of late nights and hot, sweaty sex. Her mouth had gone dry and her hibernating libido had instantly gone on red alert despite her aches and pains. She was almost afraid to turn around, sure no man could live up to the expectations that voice engendered.

“Don’t lie to a dying woman.”

“I never lie about coffee.”

His laugh had her shielding her eyes with her hand so she could see him better in the bright morning light, and that’s when she got her first good look.

A warrior god.That was the image that popped into her head. In a flash, she’d mentally stripped him of his white pants and stained apron, redressing him in leather and a sword.

Some part of her knew the tall, muscular man wouldn’t appreciate being ogled, but there was no way he wasn’t used to it by now. How could anyone who looked like that not be at least a little cocky? Instead, his expression was hesitant. Kind, but almost shy. It was so unexpected that Allegra found herself giving him a second, closer look.

She managed the slightly less obvious inspection as he crouched down next to her and offered the drink. She introduced herself and gratefully accepted the coffee while studying the man.

His waist-length dreadlocks, facial hair and tattoos couldn’t hide his warm expression, heavy-lidded hazel eyes and full, sensual lips, though she sensed that was his intention. The ink and piercings said, “Keep your distance.” But that was the only thing about him that did.

He had the kind of charisma Allegra usually associated with fictional vampires. Graceful, broody and incredibly complicated. She wasn’t usually into angst, but she’d decided in that moment that she wouldn’t mind a bite or two. Not if it came from him.

Since vampires didn’t actually exist, she was forced to wonder what his real reasons were for attempting to bury his light under a bushel. It was a mystery. He was a challenge. And it wasn’t in her DNA to be able to resist either.

Rousseau didn’t seem to mind all the staring, but his expression became harder to read as he watched her drink and responded to her nervous small talk about the weather and her recent move to town. It was as if something about her had surprised and confused him, and he was afraid to look away in case she disappeared.

She was sure her expression mirrored his, since she felt the same. She was also positive he’d been planning to ask her for her number. Or ask her out to dinner. She could practically see the questions buzzing around in the air between them.

But then something had changed. No matter how many times she’d gone over it in her head she couldn’t figure out what had spooked him, but something definitely had. His eyes had flickered dangerously and he’d mumbled some excuse about customers and her needing to get out of the heat before he stood and turned abruptly, disappearing into his shop while she was left in shock on the curb.

The next day she’d almost been afraid to walk by the café, uncertain of her welcome, but there’d been a small table and chair beside the café with a neatly written placard that read, Reserved for Allegra.

Well, she couldn’t exactly turn that down, could she?

Unfortunately, the olive branch of a table was as far as she’d gotten with Rousseau. Six long weeks of shy hellos and free coffee, followed by the rapid disappearances that were really starting to tick her off.

She knew he watched her, could feel it like a physical caress each time, but he never took things to the next level. With her, anyway. And she…well, she had her own confidence issues that had stopped her from facing the problem head on.

She’d never been so irritated, caffeinated or sexually frustrated in her life. It was a volatile combination. Something had to give.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

Allegra blinked innocently. “If it was about why I shouldn’t follow through on my plan? Probably not.”

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