“I don’t care that you’re cute and get everything in life. Catch the next one.”
If he think’s I’m cute, I’ll show him just how cute this bitch can be.
Pursing my lips, I dig my heels into the ground. “This has nothing to do with me being a woman!”
“Well, I’d punch you if you were a guy, so let’s both be thankful you’re a woman.”
“I’ve never—”
“Step back before you get run over,” the driver says as he pulls away from the curb.
I jolt back from the car and nearly trip over my stilettos, falling right into the lean, muscular arms of the cab stealer.
“Get off of me,” I demand of him even though I’m clinging to his biceps, steadying myself on the blacktop.
Cars are whizzing by us, but all I feel is the curve of his muscle underneath a blue button-down that brings out his eyes. Across his chest is a messenger bag as brown as the perfectly styled hair on his head.
“I’m not touching you.” He’s not. His arms are out to the sides and in the air to prove it.
Steady on my feet, I brush my hair away from my face and look him in the eyes. “You owe me another taxi.”
He rests his head back, looks up to the sky, and lets out a deep breath. “When are you going to see that I hailed the taxi? Do you think cabs just show up on curbs when you want them to? Are you a witch with magical powers? If so, please, please, make another one appear. I’d love to see this.” His arms are now across his chest, and he’s staring me down.
I clench my jaw and level my eyes with his. “You have no clue who you’re dealing with. I eat men like you for breakfast.”
With a shake of his head, he moves away. “Whatever. Have a good night.”
He turns to walk down the sidewalk, and I turn back to the street. I won’t lie and say I’m not a little disappointed in his easy retreat. I like a good fight. I’ll even give him credit for that punch-in-the-face comment. Now, if he’d actually hit me, that would have been a different story.
As I raise my arm to hail another cab, I feel a tug and a pull backward, and then my too-big trench slips and falls off my shoulders.
“Hot damn, girl.” A passerby gawks and whistles at me. “Look at the rack on this one. Didn’t know they had call girls up on Wacker. Give us a dance, mama!” His voice is shrill, and he’s making obscene hip gestures.
Quickly, I throw my arms across my chest, hiding the very low corset top that has my full breasts pummeling out of the top, my nipples daring to make an appearance.
I spin around to hide the view of my ass cheeks peeking out of the ruffled bottom but have to spin around again to keep the oncoming traffic from witnessing my nearly bare bottom. My upper thighs are fully exposed, and the garters attaching the lace panties to the thigh-high stockings only highlight the creamy flesh.
I’m a free and confident woman. I love to show off my body. But only to those of my choosing. This, being on display for anyone to see is…well, unnerving.
My throat quakes.
My lips tremble.
And the backs of my eyes quiver.
I’m bending down, trying my best to cover my very exposed self, when a warm blanket wraps around me. It doesn’t take long to see that the blanket is, in fact, my trench coat, and it is being placed on my shoulders by warm, strong hands.
An arm slings around me, and I am being pulled into a body. I look up to see the side profile of the man I was arguing with over the cab. He’s ushering me closer to the curb, his other arm up in the air. He whistles loudly, and a taxi is at the curb in an instant.
With an ease I wasn’t expecting, he guides me into the back of the cab. I climb in. When I see his foot step into the car as well, I scoot over and make room.
“Where to?” the cabbie asks.
I look around in bewilderment and swallow. “Lake Shore Drive.”
The car starts to move, and I pull my coat tighter around me. Moving to the furthest side of the cab, I look back at the man sharing the bench seat with me.
His mouth is open, ready to speak. “I must have stepped on your belt and dragged your coat as you were walking away. I didn’t realize it until I heard that creep making comments.”