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Authors: J. Hali Steele

Can't Touch This

BOOK: Can't Touch This
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Can’t Touch this

J.
Hali Steele

 

Rich alpha wolf shifter Castle Briggs can have any woman he
wants with just the crook of his finger. Until he meets a human named Harlow.
She makes it clear she’s had it with rich, overconfident jerks trying to own
her. All she wants is a no-strings-attached good time with a man who isn’t
afraid of her darker urges. Castle’s happy to dominate her in his special
playroom, but he wants more than a kinky fling. He’s going to have to do a lot
more than crook his finger to get past Harlow’s fears and make her his forever.

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and
scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!

 

An
adult paranormal romance
from Ellora’s Cave

 

Can’t Touch This
J. Hali Steele

 

Chapter One

 

Somewhere big enough to disappear—a place to find myself.

It’s what Harlow Hardison thought as a cool breeze caressed
her back and sparked an excitement along her spine she had not felt for a long,
long time. She hadn’t really gone out since leaving her husband and the
preceding six months had been good. She’d learned important things about
herself, things she intended never to forget.

Harlow vowed not to tie herself down with one man ever again.

Locking her front door, she spun and crossed the parking lot
to her white Lotus, a car she couldn’t afford to pay for. The car was a gift
from Jeff Hardison, his latest attempt to buy her. She had not given in and she
wondered when her spurned spouse would show up to retrieve it. In the meantime,
at his attorney’s urging, Jeff had settled a tidy sum on Harlow, which she’d
accepted only to help her start over. Some of the money had been put away and
she’d convinced her lawyer to stop seeking more. Harlow wanted to move on.

A group of male tenants gathered around the complex’s small picnic
area whistled and shouted compliments some women despised. Harlow wasn’t one of
those. She had no highfalutin ideas about women’s equality or it being rude or
derisive when men showed their appreciation for a beautiful woman. She ran
three miles three times a week and walked as often as possible to keep her five-foot-seven
frame tight and in shape. She smiled at the men. “Thank you, gentlemen.” She
looked good in the fitted white dress that left her back bare to just above her
ass before it flared to her ankles, meeting five-inch white heels adorned with
miniature silver handcuffs buckled beneath shapely calves. When the breeze lifted
her dress, she knew her long legs looked sexy.

Initially she had planned to live in LA but instead had
found herself drawn to the San Fernando Valley. New to the area, Harlow asked a
few coworkers about the best place for a little excitement without being too
rowdy. She wasn’t ready for anything serious yet, just a nice meal and a few
drinks. “Testing the waters,” she said aloud in the car as she headed to The
Moat, a club supposedly a good place to have a meal, a drink, and meet someone
if she desired company. After pulling into the lot and finding a space, she
headed to the well-lit main entrance. Just as she was about to pull the door
open, two men flew out, fists swinging. She registered the sound of a
motorcycle roaring into the parking lot but before she could look or move in
any direction, the door slammed open again and almost knocked her into a bank
of hedges. “So much for not being rowdy,” she mumbled.

“Sorry.” Strong hands gripped her waist. “Wouldn’t want to
lose
you
in the bushes.” He was easily six feet tall and his light-brown
eyes sparked with mischief beneath bright overhead lights. Harlow felt solid
muscle ripple under his t-shirt when he pulled her against his body and away
from the mound of evergreen plants. “Stay here.”

Stay here?
He moved quickly but the skirmish seemed
controlled by the man who had arrived on the bike. Harlow wasn’t quite sure why
she waited as requested, but she did. She watched her rescuer and the other man
exchange words while the latter moved his motorcycle to an empty space holding
a reserved-for-owner sign. When they reached the door, the one who had broken
up the fight removed the helmet he still wore, allowing ebony hair to tumble
around shoulders broader than those of the man who had saved her from a back
flip into the bushes.
Holy shit!
No words, at least in her vocabulary, could
describe his eyes. Merriment danced in the depths of blue irises flecked with
yellow as a smile curved his lips. His slow perusal of her body zinged Harlow’s
internal thermometer into the danger zone. When his eyes changed to sapphire
blue, the phrase “to die for” slipped through her mind.

“Well damn, Hatch, your description didn’t mention gorgeous.”

“No way, Briggs, back the hell off.”

“Hello, darlin’, what a delightful night this is gonna be.”

Sirens blared as two patrol cars pulled into the lot.

“Shit, Castle, there are at least twenty women inside you
could screw around with.”

“But I see the one I want tonight.”

The man called Hatch continued to talk; however, Harlow
couldn’t understand a single word he said. “I’m Harlow Hardison, my friends
call me Harli.” The guy in front of her with weird blue eyes was an inch taller
than the other, and the charcoal tee he wore struggled to conceal an abdomen
rife with muscle. A quick appraisal revealed lean hips and strong thighs
encased in black jeans covered by leather chaps. She peered up and breath
hitched in her throat. He could have stepped from the pages of one of her books
on angels and myths. Shadow of a beard, probably no more than a day’s growth,
peppered his cheeks and chin. Harlow’s fingers itched to reach out and touch
him.

He pointed to Hatch. “Hatch Grisom. I’m Castle Briggs, call
me Cass.” Harlow’s body trembled when he rested his hand low on her back. Heat
radiated from his touch and branched into her chest as he pulled the door open
and turned to his friend. “Who called the cops?”

“Probably one of the dinner guests unused to roughhousing.”

“Can’t I leave without something going wrong?”

“That’s uncalled for.” Hatch appeared annoyed as he ran a
hand over his dark-blond buzz cut. “I can’t watch them every minute, especially
the pups.”

“You’re right. Go let the boys in blue know we’ve got it
under control.”

“Damn you.”

“Gris, take anyone you want tonight.” He gazed at Harlow. “Just
not this one.”

“Christ, I should have left you out there alone.”

Harlow’s stomach performed somersaults as Castle grinned at
his friend. “I handled it.”

While they continued to banter back and forth, Harlow walked
in front of Castle, and into the restaurant.
The pups?
She passed a
podium and headed up a small flight of steps to the bar where she searched for
a single seat. Spying one, she quickly claimed it. What she needed was a gin,
straight up, and time to calm down and think. How dare he act as if she already
was his
for the night
? Harlow shifted on the stool as warmth continued
to stir where the biker had touched her. Another minute staring into those weird
eyes, she’d have done anything he asked and no way would that shit happen. Her
first evening out, Harlow intended to enjoy the whole show, not just one act.
Also, she didn’t like how they discussed women as though they were something to
be passed between them.

The base of her spine thrummed to life, butterflies took
flight in her stomach, and her breathing kicked up a notch the instant the one
called Castle found her. With his hand placed low on her back again, he drew
tiny circles with his fingertips as he whispered in her ear, “I’d find you in
the eye of a hurricane, darlin’.”

“You should take your friend’s advice and seek one of the
interested twenty.” Why in hell had she remembered those words? Lord, he was
gorgeous and something snapped inside when he traced up her spine to the back
of her neck. It was a feeling Harlow didn’t dare turn over in her mind and look
at. Not yet.

“You’re interested.” He tilted her chin up and peered in her
eyes while his free hand began an unhurried descent back to the tingling spot
above her butt. “I smell it.”

“Mr. Briggs—”

“The formalities are over, honey.” He released Harlow but
not before kissing her hard, long—and it shattered her goddamn world. “I’ll
give you some time.”

The arrogant bastard walked away and left Harlow sitting
there, mouth open and heart banging against her ribcage. “Time for what?” The
words were lost amongst music and laughter in the club, which teemed with more
beautiful people than she’d ever seen gathered in one place. She thought about
leaving but decided not to let the night be a waste, nor to allow him to think
he’d run her off. She would at least eat something before heading home.
Signaling a server, Harlow placed an order and settled in to enjoy the
atmosphere. Her salad arrived and she ate as much as she could. She was ready
for her second and last shot of gin when the bartender magically placed one in
front of her. “Compliments, ma’am.”

She glanced past the server and spied Castle talking to a
young woman who draped herself over his body. When she wrapped arms around his
neck, he untangled them and eased her away. The downturn her lips took irritated
Harlow. Why did women do that to themselves? Her mother had taught her to let
the man take the lead, allow him to feel as though he’d laid claim, and then if
you want him, grab hold with both hands and show the world he’s yours. Sliding
the drink away, she told the bartender, “Tell the sender I’m not interested
then bring my bill, please.” Her mother didn’t enlighten her on how to tell a
man about her uncommon desires, desires most considered abnormal. Harlow’s
marriage was proof the theory on letting a man take the lead did not work.

Harlow yearned for a man who could…

“It’s paid.”

Harsh words tumbled through her lips at his untimely interruption.
“I said get my bill.” A flush of heat suffused her cheeks when Harlow realized
she continued to stare at the man across the bar.

“There’s no charge, ma’am.” He glanced over his shoulder and
she assumed he looked at Castle Briggs.

Getting up, she skirted stools until she stood patiently
waiting as another woman settled in Brigg’s lap. “How much do I owe you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Evidently you’re the owner since you parked in the
reserved-for-owner spot.”

“So?”

“You’re all alike. You have money and you think you can do
whatever you want.” Lord, why couldn’t she leave it alone? “What did my dinner
cost?”

“Since I didn’t buy it, I couldn’t say.” Anger flashed in
his eyes before he scoured the room. He motioned for the bartender who leaned
over and whispered in Castle’s ear. He returned his attention to Harlow. “It’s
on the house, and my apologies, it won’t happen again.”

Now she felt stupid as she wondered where the drink and
money for her meal came from. All she could do was mumble, “Sorry,” before she
turned to leave.

“Wait.”

“For what?” Lord, why the heck did she snap? Sweat gathered
on Harlow’s back, eliciting a shiver beneath the overhead fan as she stared at
Castle.

“Hatch?”

His friend sat with a blonde at a table across the aisle
from the barstool Castle occupied. “Yeah, boss?”

“Make sure Ms. Hardison gets home safely.”

“I can take care of myself.”

A sardonic smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’ll take
better care of you.”

“You can’t touch me.” A whole host of female patrons,
including the one wiggling between his thighs, looked as if they would scratch
her eyes out and Harlow glared back, giving as good as she got. “You have
enough company.” She didn’t contemplate why that bothered her.

“Pull the claws in, I only want yours tonight.”

Why she felt pity for the women surrounding him Harlow
couldn’t say, but damn if she was walking out without letting him know just
what a lowlife cad she considered him. Why did she even care who came on to the
bastard? She wouldn’t become one of them. It dawned on her it was exactly what
she wanted, and it angered her, goaded her into acting unreasonable. Harlow flashed
her brightest smile and enjoyed the fact his eyes reflected the idea he thought
he had won. “It must be horrible to search for such a tiny prick every time you
have to pee.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Surely a man with balls and a cock wouldn’t have to
surround himself with so many adoring fans.”

A hush fell over the room.

* * * * *

Cass pushed the woman from his lap and gripped Harlow’s
wrist, dragging her between his legs. Drawing her hand to the front of his
slacks, he grinned maliciously as he made her fondle his hard-on. “Tell me that
when this dick is buried so deep in your pussy you taste it.” He smashed his
mouth on hers hard enough to draw blood. “Trust me, you’ll like it.” The witch
bit his lip.
Jesus!
Castle shoved her back and licked blood from his
mouth before turning to Hatch. “Put her ass in her car and see she gets home
safely.”

“You…” Anger blazed in Harlow’s eyes.

Harlow aimed a slap at his face but he captured her hand in
a viselike grip. “We’ll play rough, darlin’, if that’s what you like. Take her
out of here.” His wolf howled inside and he damn near let him out. “Now!” Cass
watched Hatch escort her from his restaurant and replayed in his head the
sounds she had made when his mouth covered hers. When Castle kissed her, when
he held her helpless, Harlow moaned in pleasure. He doubted she was aware the
sounds escaped her lips but he recognized the wanton whimper and could almost
taste how much she’d like pain.

His animal grasped the problem immediately—Harlow Hardison
was afraid of herself.

Cass watched as his second wrapped an arm around the woman’s
waist, hoisting her in the air before walking out the door with her kicking and
screaming. Goddamn she-devil bit him and Cass loved it! Swiping a hand across
his mouth, he caught her scent and breathed deeply. His dick prodded the front
of his pants wanting release as much as the wolf did. “Damn it to hell.”
Standing, he moved through a cluster of beautiful women as he ripped his chaps
off and carried them to his office. Entering, he slammed the door and tossed
his leathers on a seat.

Horny and filled with lust by what he had discovered, Castle
walked behind his desk, unfastened his pants and pushed them down around his
ankles. Removing his t-shirt and hurling it onto a pile of papers, he fell into
his chair holding his dick. Resting his head against the back, he began to
stroke his cock. He firmly enclosed it in his hand and jerked the skin up and
down, envisioning multicolored green and brown eyes and a head full of thick, dark
hair. And, goddamn, her naturally tanned body was lean and taut with muscle,
something he couldn’t miss when he locked her between his thighs.
Bitch bit me!
The mere dot of blood he’d swiped from her mouth felt as if it coursed through
his veins. Tightening his fingers around his thickness, he shoved his cock in
and out of the improvised hole. He wished it were inside her pussy or her ass.

BOOK: Can't Touch This
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