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A 50 year old widower gets a second chance at love.

Vascha knew he was watching. She'd always been able to tell. She'd know the day they met. He'd stared at her like a man dying of hunger at the counter of a Starbuck's. He'd been handsome and his eagerness appealing, and one thing had led to another, with her taking the lead. She was always the instigator, always the one in charge. And she was sick of it. She wanted to be taken for a change. Consumed.

Bitterness and disappointment flooded her pulsing veins, and she opened her eyes. She sought him out, found him easily, and smiled ever so coldly, wanting to punish him. His face reflected his confusion, his arousal and his hurt all at once. She did a sinuous pirouette in the arms of strangers and began running her hands over the man she'd leaned against, teasing them all.

Seth faltered, missing the beat. A woman undulated against him, grinding her crotch to his hip and he pulled away, watching Vascha deliberately seducing the men she danced with. A vein pounded heavily at his temple in time with the throb of his cock. He watched her grind against the pressing bodies, saw the shimmer of deep arousal across her skin, her nipples hard and straining under her thin shirt. Something basic and primal inside him snapped then, and he snarled, pushing his way through to her. He grabbed her shoulder and jerked her toward him. She looked at him, eyes bright and angry.

"What are you doing, Vascha?" he growled at her. One of her dancing partners pushed at his hand. His eyes snapped up to stare the man down and the lightly banked violence in his face startled Vascha. "I dare you to try it," he warned the man who'd touched him, baring his teeth.

Wow, she thought. I wonder. She smiled cruelly at him. "I'm getting off," she replied. "How 'bout you?"

He felt a hard kick of jealousy and fury deep in his belly, and recognized the hurt behind it. And, against her nature, wanted to hurt her back. Seth took her chin in his hand and lowered his face close to hers, staring into those cruel, beautiful eyes.

"Don't push me, lady," he said quietly, snarling the words.

She grinned nastily and hooked her hand in one of the dancers' hair, shoving Seth aside and pulling the other man down for a deep kiss, all teeth and tongue.

He felt her jaw work under his hand, felt her kissing the other man, and he snapped. Seth pulled her away, yanking at her, then dragged her through the crowd, ignoring her curses and the strength of her struggles.

Vascha was mildly impressed, and more than a little surprised. He was actually calling the shots, and using his strength to dominate her. He worked out, had quite a nice six-pack on him, biceps that could probably pop shirt seams if he thought about it hard enough, and had never once used any of it against her. She'd always been the stronger of the two in terms of dominance. She felt her breath coming faster, felt the kick of desire in her belly and wondered how far he'd go.

Seth dragged her behind him, through the exit and across the empty street to the parking lot where he'd left the car. A pale yellow streetlight at the corner didn't help any, but he knew his way. When he reached the car, he shoved her against the door.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" she demanded, shoving hard at his chest. "If you hadn't noticed, honey, it's over."

He put his hands on the roof of the car on either side of her, leaning in close. "How'd you enjoy it?" he demanded quietly, angrily. "Practically fucking strangers in front of me?"

"Get the hell out of my way and I'll go finish the job," she snapped back.

He brought his hand to her chin again, trailing his fingers down over the side of her throat. "I told you before, Vascha, don't push me."

She sliced her nails savagely across his wrist.

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