Animal Magnetism Read Online Free PDF

wrapped his finger around her wrist to hold her to him, letting his eyes drift closed.
    “For how big and tough you are,” she said very softly, “you have a kind mouth.”
    He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “You should know it’s not kindness I’m feeling at the moment.”
    “No?” A brow arched, and the light in her eyes spoke of amusement, along with a flash of heat. “What do you feel?”
    Dangerous territory there. Nothing new for him. He did some of his best work in dangerous territory. “Guess.”
    Still smiling, she leaned in so that their lips were nothing but a whisper apart. Even surrounded by a duck, two puppies, and a potbellied piglet, she still smelled amazing. He wanted to yank her in and smell her some more, but he held very still, absorbing her closeness, letting her take the lead.
    When she spoke, every word had her lips ghosting against his, her breath all warm, chocolately goodness. “I’m more of a doer,” she whispered, and kissed him.
    She tasted as good as she smelled. Then almost before it’d even begun, she pulled back. “Thank you.”
    He had no idea what exactly she was thanking him for now but he was all for more of it. Their connection, light as it’d been, had still carried enough spark to jump-start his engines. “For . . . ?”
    “For driving me all the way out here.” Again she was letting her lips brush his with every word. “And for not being a serial killer.” She was staring at his mouth. “And for . . . everything.”
    Not wholly in charge of his faculties, he took over the lead, pulling her in until she was straining over the console before covering her mouth with his.
    With a low murmur of acquiescence, she wrapped her arms around his neck, angling her head for the best fit, deepening the kiss.
    Which worked for him.
    He lost track of time, but when she pulled back, breathless and panting for air, she licked her bottom lip as if she needed that last little taste of him.
    He knew the feeling. He was more than a little flummoxed by the loss of blood to his brain. She’d felt good. Good and soft and willing. He had one hand low at her back, the tips of his fingers tucked into the waistband of her pants, against warm, satiny skin while his other hand cupped her jaw.
    “Gotta go,” she whispered, and pulled free. Twice she tried to grab the door and missed. Leaning past her, he pushed it open for her.
    “And we’re still at least a hundred yards from the water,” she muttered. “Imagine if we got in it.”
    He heard himself laugh. “It’s not the water.” He wasn’t sure what it was, but he was positive it wasn’t the water.
    “Cynic,” she repeated without heat, looking both flustered, and aroused.
    An incredibly appealing combination that made him want to haul her onto his lap and show her cynic . “True enough,” he agreed. “But it takes one to know one.”
    She snorted and it was the craziest thing, but hell if he didn’t feel the tug of attraction for her all the way to his toes.
    Yeah. Definitely dangerous territory.
    “Wait here.” She slipped out of the truck and vanished inside the kennels. Twenty seconds later she was back with her insurance card. “Keep it, I have another.” She wrapped Abigail’s leash around her wrist and grabbed the box. “Thanks for the ride, stranger.” Then, with a flash of a smile, she sauntered off in those baggy Carhartts toward the kennels, looking for all the world like a princess going into her palace.

Three

    L ilah Young forced herself to cross the yard and get all the way to the front door of the kennels before allowing herself to glance back at the truck.
    He was still there: Brady Miller, pilot, photographer, kisser extraordinaire, slouched behind the wheel, hair still messed up from her fingers, watching her.
    Letting out a low breath, she pressed a hand low to her abdomen. “Sweet baby Jesus,” she whispered.
    “Quack,” Abigail said.
    With a low laugh, Lilah opened the door and managed a