Blood Ties in Chef Voleur Read Online Free PDF

until he reached her eyebrow. He kissed her there. “Did you get a chance to look inside the book?” he asked softly.
    “What?” The question surprised her. Usually, when he made love to her he was single-minded, focused, as if he were a surgeon performing a very delicate procedure that could be disastrous if he made one tiny mistake.
    “Your inheritance from your grandmother. It was one of her journals, like the ones in your office, right?”
    “Oh. The journal. It looked exactly like the others. They must be hugely expensive, with all that leather and engraving and lace and the metal page corners. But no. I started to open the cover to look at the first page, but the lights went out before I saw anything.”
    He pushed her hair away from her ear and nibbled on the earlobe. As she gasped with surprise and pleasure, he said, “What did the cover say?”
    The front cover of each journal was engraved. She had traced the first line with her finger. “They all have her name at the top. When she was a little girl it just said Lilibelle Guillame. The later ones say Lilibelle Guillame Delancey. Beneath her name is the year. And the one that was snatched tonight had 1986 on it, I’m pretty sure.”
    “1986? Isn’t that when Con Delancey died? I heard someone ask if it was her last journal. Was it?” he murmured.
    Cara Lynn pushed away. “Why are you so interested in—”
    He nipped at her earlobe, then lowered his head and kissed her collarbone as his hand slid down, down, to catch the hem of her nightgown and push it up.
    He ran his hand along her hip, then gasped. “I’d forgotten you took off your panties,” he whispered as he caressed the delicate, sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs, then touched her intimately. He pressed his lips to the soft skin below her jaw and moaned as he increased the rhythm of his caresses.
    At that instant, all rational thought left her head. Instead of trying to recapture even one of those thoughts, she slid her fingers into his hair, bending forward to reach for his mouth with hers.
    He turned his head so that her kiss landed on his cheek, because he was bending toward her ear again. He nipped at it, a bit harder this time. At the same time, he whispered, “Beautiful.”
    Intense, nearly painful thrills spiraled through her. Her head fell back, exposing her neck and the underside of her chin to more caresses, but he stopped, pulling away. His long fingers hooked the straps of her nightgown and slid them over her shoulders. The loose, slippery silk fell to the floor, leaving her naked. She shivered, feeling her breasts tighten in anticipation of his touch.
    He slid his palms down her arms to her elbows and farther, down to her fingers. Slipping past them, he cupped her firm bottom.
    On the way back up her legs, thighs and hips, he skimmed his fingers along a path of exploration that turned every fraction of an inch of her body into an erogenous zone. Finally, when she was sure her wobbly knees wouldn’t hold her up for another second, he cupped her breasts, barely large enough to fill his palms, and caressed the soft skin with his thumbs, moving closer and closer to the areolae.
    With each caress, her breaths became quicker until the moment when the pads of his thumbs slid across the taut tips of her nipples. She gasped and moaned, and he bent his head to place his mouth on one hard point. He grazed it with his teeth. She arched her back and pushed her fingers into his hair, holding his head there, until he moved to the other breast to graze it and send flames arcing through her again.
    “Jack, please,” she begged, tightening her fists in his silky dark hair.
    He raised his head and his dark, fathomless gaze met hers. “What?” he asked gruffly.
    She knew this game. They played it often. She wanted him deeply, primally. He’d brought her to this point and he knew it. Now he wanted her to tell him what she wanted.
    Only what she always said and what she really wanted were