Bride of the Moso Prince Read Online Free PDF

judge it, I would say it’s a wonderful system, for both men and women. There are no contract and no responsibility . You're together only when there is love, and when love vanishes , which it often does , you separate , no fetters , no worries . ”
                  Sharon was hoping that Nobul would at least nod, but h e didn't seem to be pleased with what he heard. Instead, he frowned and looked away from her .
                  Then they sat down silently on the pine- leaf matted floor.
     
                  Nobul had taken off his shirt and was holding it above the flame.   His smooth, bronze skin glowed. His muscles were taut from shoulders down to waist. The sight made Sharon's mouth dry. She tried to quench further wild thoughts, reminding herself that she wasn’t here to seek romance like those tourists. Her mission was to take care of Charlene, and possibly rescue her out of this backward, chairless region.
                  But before long her eyes wandered again at that beautiful bronze statue in front of her, separated from her by a flame of fire. How would it feel to run her fingers along the curves of those arms, and to put her cheek on the center of that chest? She could anticipate the sensation…sizzling was the word.
                  He must have sensed her glance for he turned to look at her. She shivered as the dark twinkling beads fixed on her.
                    “Are we close to the village?” she managed to say.
                  “Yes, very close. But the rain won’t stop any time soon. Are you cold?”
                    “I’m fine.” She said quickly with nonchalance. Her t-shirt was damp but not wet. Her jeans though felt like a layer of cold skin. Only a second later a sneeze betrayed her.
                  He grinned. “You might want to take off that shirt to dry it. We don’t want another sick person in the hotel.”
                  She blushed at the suggestion. She had a camisole underneath but he was a stranger.
                  He laughed. Putting on his half-dried shirt he went to the opening of the cave and sat down with back towards her. “I won’t look.”
                  “But you aren’t dry yet.”
                  “Then you’d better hurry up.”
                  Warily she took off her shirt and held it up close the fire. Then she was ashamed of her coyness. Teenage girls in LA frequently showed up in camisoles in public, and she wasn’t even a teenager.
                  “It’s ok,” she called to him after a moment’s hesitation, “you can come back.”
                  “So soon?”
                  “Yes,” she stammered, “I…have something on.”
                  “Are you sure?”
                  “Yes.”
                  He turned and as his eyes met the sight of her he froze for a moment.
                  Through the silky camisole he could see clearly the curve of her small but firm and well rounded breasts.
                  After a gulping movement of his throat, he walked towards the fire quickly and sat down opposite of her. His gaze above the flames made her self-conscious. Perhaps unlike same teenagers, she wasn’t wearing a bra under the camisole. The heat of the fire seeped through the thin fabric and made her breasts swell. She felt naked.   To battle the awkwardness she was feeling, she removed the hair band and let her hair cover her naked shoulders. But the gestured only attracted more attention from him.
                  “I like your hair,” he said huskily, “looks silky.”
                  “Thanks,” she shuddered at the gentleness of his voice and thought of an appropriate response before she got carried away, “I like yours