Bad in Bed Read Online Free PDF

tendencies and lack of romantic spirit. But Marco
understood that memories of Ethan’s childhood still had the power to bite him
unexpectedly. The sanctuary of his home had become, if you like, his comfort
blanket. Safe and pure.
    Yet here he was inviting Amber back, wanting
her there, wanting her in his bed. He had to be insane. Okay, she
was smart and sexy, nothing especially unusual in the women he fucked, but not
once had he considered violating the shelter of his home by issuing such an
invitation.
    Problem was, he’d been lusting after Amber too
damn long before doing anything about it. For the best part of a week he’d
watched and waited for her to arrive at her office each morning. He would have
waited each night for her to leave if she hadn’t been a workaholic and remained
there well after the rest of the place emptied. Security might have picked him
up as some crazy stalker. It would have been difficult to argue he was still
carrying out refurbishment of the company’s elevator installation as the sun
went down. Shit. It had been hard enough convincing the guys who worked for him
that he, the owner of the bloody company, took such an interest in an average contract
that he turned up there every morning to supervise proceedings.
    Brooding a little, Ethan kept his distance from
Amber as he led the way up the half dozen stone steps to his Regency townhouse
in one of
Brighton
’s most sought-after areas.
The sense of pride he usually enjoyed at people’s first reaction to his home
was overshadowed by his brood, and he only nodded at Amber’s “it’s lovely,”
comment.
    He was careful not to touch her as he unlocked
the door and stood back to let her enter. Like most of his visitors, she
glanced around the spacious entrance hall, with its high ceilings and white
painted wood paneling. A huge chandelier sparkled little diamonds of pattern
and color on the ceiling as Ethan turned on the light.
    “It’s beautiful,” Amber said as she continued
to peruse the space. “How long have you lived here?”
    “Almost a year. I’ve restored the main parts of
the house, but there’s still a whole lot left to do.”
    As she examined the abstract paintings by local
artists adorning the walls, Ethan put his keys on the hall bureau before
slipping his hands into his pockets. When his hand touched damp silk, he
remembered the panties he’d stuffed into his pocket and pulled out his hand as
if the material scorched him.  
    He must have made a sound, because Amber turned
away from the paintings and looked at him. From her questioning gaze, it
appeared she found his physical distance as bizarre as he did, seeing as all
evening he’d found it impossible to keep his hands off her. Shit. He’d been
inside her, for pity’s sake. Yet here he was acting as if touching her was
tantamount to signing his own death warrant.
    He needed a drink. He needed a fucking brain
transplant. “Can I get you something? A nightcap?”
    She clutched her bag like a lifejacket in
turbulent seas, all the time looking up at him from beneath long, dark
eyelashes. Perhaps she’d picked up on his diminishing enthusiasm to have her
here in his home. “Maybe just coffee. I’m driving.”
    He offered up thanks that she’d insisted on
following him in her car and his spirits rose with the knowledge she didn’t
intend staying long. Maybe, like him, she was simply in the market for another
quickie.
    Should that be the case then, Halleluiah! The solution to his dilemma
was simple enough. Fuck her, then send her home. Effortless damage control.
Give her a good time, send her off with a smile on her face.
    And shit. That sounded cold, brutal, but what
other option was there?
    Ethan moved to the galley-style kitchen off the
hallway, aware that Amber followed him. The click of her heels echoed on the
tiled floor, her scent filled his nostrils, and even at a safe distance her
very presence seemed to unnerve him.
    He busied himself making coffee, casting