Dimple. He even has a freaking dimple. It lends a softness to his hard face. Though everything about him seems a little softer at the moment. Maybe he’s not so pissed. Still, I don’t understand why he’s doing what he’s doing.

“Come.” He pulls his coat off and throws it over my shoulder, wrapping it around me and pulling me into his side. I’m almost swimming in his coat. The smell of him surrounds me and puts me at ease for some reason.

“I need my backpack.” I nod over toward the bleacher where I left it. He guides us over to it and picks it up. I jerk when I see Mr. Barton in the doorway. My stomach drops. Warren looks down at me, sensing my distress. He already seems to be in tune with me somehow and reads me easily.

“Change your mind?” he asks. I shake my head.

“You heading out, Charlie?” Mr. Barton asks. Warren’s hold on me tightens. I didn't know he could pull me into his side any more than he already did, but somehow he manages to.

“She has dinner plans with me. You are…” I don’t know how Warren does it, but he isn't asking Mr. Barton a question. He’s demanding to know who he is. There is no question that Mr. Barton will give it to him. I’m seeing this man always gets what he wants.

“I own this place.”

Warren looks at Mr. Barton like he’s bored. “Move. You’re in the doorway,” he tosses back at him. Mr. Barton’s face turns red. He’s clearly pissed at being dismissed.

“Listen, you—”

“Warren.”

“What?” Barton asks in confusion.

“Listen, Warren Shade. My name.”

Recognition flashes on Barton’s face. He takes a step back out of the doorway, almost tripping on his own feet, but doesn't say anything else as Warren guides us out of the building. I see the man who was with him earlier. He straightens from his leaning position and opens the car door for Warren and me.

Warren guides me into the backseat. He stops to say something to the man before sliding in next to me. He places his hand on my thigh, stroking his thumb back and forth. The simple touch makes my breath catch.

As we pull out I let myself relax into the seat. I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into. All I do know is I’ll likely have a safe place to rest my head tonight. After Fredrik left me to go work I couldn't help myself from looking Warren up and finding out more about him. I needed something to keep my mind off Mr. Barton and not having a place to sleep anymore.

Not only is he super rich, but he’s also a decorated former Marine. There were lists and lists of things he’s done for charities and so on. He’s even a good son, it looks like. At half the events he went to his mother was on his arm or he was alone. Sadly I was trying to dig into the woman he might have dated. After Frederik had hinted that Warren might be into me I let curiosity get the best of me. I didn't come up with anything on his dating life. I did notice he rubbed shoulders with a lot of politicians, though.

He seems safe from what I read and something inside me tells me he is. Having been on the streets as long as I have, I’ve learned to read people. To trust what my gut is telling me. Still, my gut has a feeling Warren might not hurt me physically but he could emotionally. He has heartbreak written all over him. He could make me feel safe then rip it away from me. I don’t know why but even after only spending a few moments with him I feel a pull to him.

I’m even starting to think I felt the pull before I even knew he existed. His building drew me toward him from the start. I had a driving need to be outside it and to paint it for some reason. I’ve always believed in fate.

I glance over to Warren, who has his eyes on me. My gaze goes to his mouth. Before I know what I’m doing I’m moving toward him. His hands dig into my hair as our mouths meet. It’s almost awkward at first as I have no idea what I’m doing, but quickly Warren takes over the kiss. I dig my fingers into the front of his shirt.

I moan into his mouth and everything I’m feeling comes rushing forward. I almost cry out as he pulls his mouth from me. He rests his forehead against mine. The sounds of our heavy breathing fill the car. “We aren't alone,” he whispers, reminding me of the driver up front. I’d completely forgotten for a moment. “I don't want anyone seeing you like this.”

I wonder what that means—do I look different right now? When I looked over at him and saw him watching me, that hold he has on me took over and I had to kiss him. He gives me another soft kiss before letting me go. I lean back in my seat, licking my lips, still tasting him there. His hand goes back to my thigh in a possessive hold.

“Why do you want to have dinner with me if I’m telling you I won’t have sex with you?” I ask. I keep looking forward, not trusting myself to look at him again. I might crawl in his lap this time.

“There is something about you.” He puts his finger under my chin, making me turn my head to look over at him. “Some pull.” He studies my face as if trying to figure something out.

“I feel the pull, too,” I admit.

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

“This is crazy. I don’t do stuff like this,” I tell him, feeling at little unsure now. I should probably ask where he is taking me to dinner. No way I’m dressed for the places her normally goes.

“Neither do I.” His words calm me. I find myself leaning more into him. His thumb strokes my cheek.

“Where are you taking me?” I don’t know why I feel so safe with him, but I do.

“Home.”

“Your home?” I correct him. I don’t think I’ve ever really had a place called home. Not in a long time. A longing hits the center of my chest.

“I’m not taking you there for sex.” He raises his eyebrows. “I shouldn’t have said what I said about working the suit off.”

“You didn't mean it?” I tease him.

“I would have said anything to get you to come with me, to be honest, but I want more than just sex.”

He leans forward, our mouths almost touching.

“We’re here,” the driver says, pulling us from the moment. I know my face turns a little red having once again forgotten about the driver. Warren pulls me from the car and my eyes widen when I see his massive home.

“It’s just a home. I got it for the view, to be honest. Come. I’ll show you.” He pulls me with him through the front door, our hands locked together. I gasp when I see huge windows looking out over the mountains.

We are standing in a giant living room that is open to a dining room and the kitchen. The space is massive but warm and homey. I don’t know what I thought I’d get when I saw his home, but it wasn't this. Maybe I thought more marble and sharpness. This is comfy. Looks lived in. I love it.

“I would love to sit here and paint,” I say absently. I wish I could see the sun rise and set here, to get a better look at the view. The full moon is only showing so much, less with how heavily the snow is falling. I hope it keeps falling. Maybe I’ll get trapped here for a few days. Trapped with this man I know nothing about but want to know everything about.

“You’re welcome to anytime.” He pulls his coat from me, tossing it onto the leather sofa that looks like puffy clouds.

“Maybe I’ll just move in,” I joke.

“Only if you sleep in my bed at night.” His response doesn’t sound like a joke.

“You almost sound serious.”

“I am.” He turns me in his arms. “Why are you in need of a place to stay?” Concern shows on his face. I know I told him I would answer anything he asks.

“I thought you were feeding me?” I look up at him through my eyelashes, feeling a little shy.

His kisses me on the top of the head before pulling me toward the kitchen. I squeal when he picks me up, taking me by surprise and sitting me on the kitchen counter.

“Talk.” He gives me another quick kiss. I try to deepen it. “You need to eat and I think I need to hear this.”

I let out a sigh like I’m annoyed, but it makes me happy that he wants to feed me and learn more about me. He moves over to the refrigerator, and my eyes follow him. His suit from earlier is gone. Now he’s in jeans and a tight black shirt. He doesn’t look like a billionaire. No, now he looks like the soldier I read about.

He pulls a container out and starts putting it on a plate.

“You cook?” I ask.

“Yes, it relaxes me.”

“Painting does that for me, too. I suck at cooking.” Well, at least I think I do. I never really had much of a kitchen to try things out with. My food is either fast food or whatever can be heated up. My mind flashes with images of me sitting in front of the window, painting, as Warren works in the kitchen making us dinner. My heart flutters. I push the thought away.

“I know other things that could get you to relax.” He puts the dish in the microwave. I roll my eyes though a tingle hits me between the legs, making me wriggle. He gives me a cocky smile like he knows what he just did to my body.

“Out with it.” He leans up against the counter across from me, his arms crossed over his massive chest. I look down at my hands in my lap.

“I’m homeless,” I finally admit. The room is quiet for so long that I finally look up. My eyes meet his.

“Not anymore.”

“You don’t even know me.” I shake my head. “I don’t even know you!” I yell the last part. He closes the distance between us.

“You’re mine now. Have been from the moment I almost tripped over you. Knew in that moment I was going to protect you.”

“Who’s going to protect me from you?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’ve said. This man is offering me way too much. A fairy tale that I could wake up from.

“No one needs to protect you from me.” His hands go on either side of the counter, caging me in. He leans down, his face level with mine, our eyes locking. “I dare someone to stand between me and you.”

I dare them, too. It’s clear he found me easily. I have no idea how, but when I saw him standing in the gym I wasn't really shocked that he had sought me out so quickly. This is a man who gets what he wants and I can tell that he wants me. It’s written in every action he makes. It has to be more than sex. He has to have women throwing themselves at him. He isn't only freaking crazy hot but also richer than I will ever be able to wrap my mind around. I’m guessing he’s smart, too.

“I don’t belong in your world.”

“You belong to me, so that makes you in my world,” he throws back with a growl in his voice. The sound makes goosebumps break out on my skin. “We’ll get to know each other over time, but you belong here. With me.” He says his words with so much certainty, something deep inside me relaxes. Again, that safe feeling washes over me, bringing a sense of calm.

The microwave dings, and he cradles my face in his big hands. “You belong,” he whispers against my lips before he takes them in a deep kiss that ends all too soon. He strides over to the microwave and pulls the dish out. He grabs a fork and sets the plate on the counter next to me.

“I grew up in this world. I never felt like I belonged, so I left.” He brings the fork to my mouth. I take a bite. The taste of chicken with a cream sauce fills my mouth. I moan around it. It’s so freaking good. I can’t remember the last time I ate something this good. If ever.

Warren stills at the sounds and I watch hunger and desire take over his face. His jaw clenches and his blue eyes seem to get even darker than they already are. He takes a deep breath.

I swallow the food. “When you went into the Marines?”

He nods, giving me another bite of food. “I liked being in the Special Forces, but I once again didn't feel like I completely belonged. Something was missing. I didn't know what it was.” He says it like he’s just now realizing it. “When I came back after my father died I buried myself in work.” He shrugs. “It’s all I know anymore, but today when I ran into you I felt like I had a purpose I actually wanted to work for. You. You’re where I belong.”

“I like the idea of belonging somewhere. I have never belonged anywhere.”

He looks almost pained as I say that. “Now tell me why you’re homeless, sweet girl.” At his softness, everything comes pouring out of me. About going from foster home to foster home after the state took me from my mother when I was ten. I haven’t seen her since then. Not that I wanted to. She wasn't a good mother. If you can even call her that. She was never around.

Then ageing out onto the streets, jumping from shelter to shelter until I ended up at the community center. When I tell him about Mr. Barton a look a rage like nothing I’ve ever seen crosses his face. I now know that when I threw paint on him earlier today it wasn’t anger on his face. This is anger. I reach up and touch him.

“I love the community center. The kids there.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He leans more into my hand.

“I don’t want to think about that right now.” I want him to kiss me again but this time without stopping. After telling him everything I feel lighter. He didn't look at me like he pitied me. He still has that same look of want for me on his face.

“Thank you for telling me.” He turns his face, kissing my palm.

“Told you I would answer anything you asked me.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

“Yes,” I say instantly. I think I’d stay anywhere he is.