Beautiful Bitch Read Online Free PDF

was oversaturated with color: the red of her panties and lips, the brown of her eyes, the creamy ivory of her skin. My body was screaming for hers to take me inside, but my brain couldn’t stop drinking in each detail. “Let me feel you.”
    She returned to me, lifting her chest to my mouth. I leaned forward, taking a nipple between my lips, flicking it with my tongue. Without warning, she stood and stepped away, turning her back to me and looking over her shoulder with a mischievous smile on her face.
    “What are you doing, little devil?” I panted.
    Her thumbs hooked into the waist of her lacy panties and she wiggled her hips as she began to lower them.
    No. No way in hell.
    “Don’t you fucking dare,” I said, yanking my hands free from her flimsy knot and standing to tower over her like a storm cloud forming in my own living room. “Go down the hall and get on my bed. If you even think of taking off your panties, I will take care of myself and you’ll lie there and watch me come.”
    Her eyes widened into enormous pools of black in the dark room, and without another word she turned and sprinted down the hall to my bedroom.

    And with that memory in mind, my day was officially shot. That night had been the single most intimate night of my life, and had launched our relationship from Giving It a Try into Fully Committed . I would never get over the way she turned her vulnerability into quiet command, or the way she let me turn the tables in my bedroom, tie her to my bed and nibble at every inch of her body.
    I groaned as I realized I had no idea when we would ever have such a lazy night together again, and picked up my phone.
    Lunch? I texted.
    Can’t , Chloe replied. Meeting with Douglas from noon to three. Shoot me.
    I looked at the clock. It was 11:36. I slid my phone back on my desk and returned to the article I was working on for the Journal . I was useless and I knew it.
    After about two minutes, I picked up my phone, texting her again, this time using our secret code. Bat signal.
    She replied immediately: On my way.

    The outer door opened and closed, bringing the sound of Chloe’s heels tapping across the floor of the office just outside mine. It had once been Chloe’s, but when she’d returned to Ryan Media Group after finishing her MBA, she moved to an office of her own in the east wing. End result: the outer office now remained empty. I’d attempted working with a few different assistants, but they never really worked out. Andrea cried all the time. Jesse tapped her pen on her desk and the effect was much like a woodpecker going at a tree. Bruce couldn’t type.
    Apparently Chloe was more of a saint for “putting up with me” than I’d given her credit for.
    My door opened and she stepped through, brows drawn together. We used the bat signal primarily to notify each other of work crises, and for a moment I wondered whether I was overreacting.
    “What happened?” she asked, stopping about a foot away from me, her arms crossed over her chest. I could see she was preparing for a professional battle on my behalf, but I wanted her to fight a far more personal one.
    “Nothing work related,” I said, rubbing my jaw. “I . . .”
    I drifted off, staring at each part of her face in turn: hereyes as they narrowed in concentration, the full lips she’d pulled together in concern, her smooth skin. And, of course, I let my eyes drop to her breasts because she’d pushed them together and . . . well, fuck .
    “Are you looking at my chest?”
    “Yes.”
    “You sent me the bat signal so you could look at my tits?”
    “Settle down, firecracker. I sent you the bat signal because I miss you.”
    Her arms fell to her sides and seemed to stutter, fingers fumbling to straighten the hem of her sweater. “How can you miss me? I stayed over last night.”
    “I know.” I knew this side of her. Forever knee-jerking back to self-preservation.
    “And we had all weekend together.”
    “Yeah, you and