Free Exhibition by Danielle Zeta Page B

the aisle. His hands were clamped over a paperback in his lap, squeezing it so hard it folded like a newspaper. He stared off into space, frowning. Marcus grazed his thoughts, not surprised to find numbers and plans. His was the mind of a businessman on the verge of a big deal.
    Perhaps he needed a woman to take his mind off things for a little while.
    Ashley watched the man, waiting for him to say something, to indicate his was the voice she’d heard.
    It wasn’t.
    Smiling, Marcus moved so close to Ashley he could smell the fruity sweetness of her shampoo. Inhaling deeply, he lifted a finger and traced the air over the tip of her nose.
    Would you like to get naked, Ashley?
    A hot blush bloomed in her cheeks. Eyes widening, her pupils dilating, she sucked in a breath.
    You can’t see me, but I can see you, he whispered inside her mind.
    She shivered and took a step back. Her bottom bumped the guy in the baggy jeans. With a jerk, she pulled away from him as if scorched, then regained her balance by grabbing the vertical rail next to her with both hands.
    Marcus frowned, unhappy with her fear. Maybe she wasn’t the right playmate for him after all. His brother was infamous for terrifying mortals and immortals alike; Marcus had no interest in stepping into that realm. His goal was pleasure.
    He studied her. Such a crime to let all that beauty go unexplored, hidden under the ugliness of her attire, trapped by a spirit too timid to break free by herself. If he gave up on her now, she’d dream of him the rest of her days, never satisfied, always wondering; her core, untouched.
    Really, to stop now would be dishonorable.
    Grinning, he moved closer until barely an inch of air remained between their bodies.

C H A P T E R 2

    MARCUS INHALED DEEPLY. She smelled wonderful, like apples and sunshine and desire. Her body was hungry for a man.  
    He looked down the gap of her camisole to the tops of her pale, rounded breasts. Ducking his head closer to hers, he lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips across her blouse, giving her left nipple the faintest hint of a caress. So gentle she might think she was imagining it. Just enough to awaken her nerves.
    With deep satisfaction, he watched her nipples harden. The outline of the tight buds appeared in the fabric.
    She tightened her grip on the handrail as the train rumbled on through the tunnels. Her knees were shaking. He knew she could feel him touching her but saw nothing there but empty air. Her pulse was alarmingly high.
    Relax, he told her, breathing calm into her with his mind. She was so much more skittish than he’d expected. Had nobody ever touched her before?
    He dove into her memories. Lonely, quiet, fearful memories.
    No, nobody ever had.
    His arousal intensified. A pleasant surprise. Virgins weren’t as common as they used to be. And he did his best to lower the number every day of his long, long life.
    You’re beautiful , he said. Ashley. This time he soothed her mind with whispered compliments while he brushed his fingertips across one erect nipple, then the other. While she relaxed slightly, he cast his awareness down the tracks to see how many moments he had until the next station.
    Only two. He’d have to act fast.
    He dragged his lips across the dancing pulse in her throat, flicked his tongue out to moisten the skin, then breathed out.
    She swayed under his touch, her fear draining out of her.
    Gently, gently, he traced the curve of her breast with his fingertip. Licked her throat. Breathed out again.
    Knees buckling, she leaned a hip against the short metal wall between the doors and the first row of seats, took a deep breath, and—
    And nothing. She went limp, waiting.
    His own need surged inside him. The station was only moments away, far too close to give him time to capture her completely. It was obviously against the rules—his father would be furious—but, by the gods, the girl needed this. Just look at her! Her cheeks had flushed as pink as her lips.