Color My Heart: A Red Hot Summer story. Read Online Free PDF Page B

savings Brad—the king of bullshit himself—hadn’t managed to wheedle out of her, maybe even use the same story of opening a business so they could get married. And then she’d find him in bed with a bombshell redhead—maybe even the same one Brad had fucked. And then. Why yes, then Hannah would be devastated.
    Again.
    That time she’d walked in on Brad and his slut, getting comfy in a sixty-nine on his bed, Hannah hadn’t even reached her apartment before she’d fallen apart.
    And then this tall, muscled god had appeared, with faded jeans and a solid blue T-shirt. His expressive brown eyes had glistened in concern and his smile had been simply breathtaking. All Hannah had wanted right then and there was…
    She wasn’t sure exactly.
    Maybe to know someone found her desirable. Maybe to feel connected to someone, if only for a few minutes. Maybe she’d wanted revenge, to prove to herself and to that bastard Brad that she wasn’t going to let him break her.
    She’d never expected to continue with the affair.
    But she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Billy after that first time. Billy’s deep baritone, speaking to her as he’d filled her, slammed his cock into her, played like a song in her head. Interminably.
    All night she’d replayed his words in her head and suffered the effect those same words had caused all over again. Then she’d fretted over what she’d do when she saw him next. How embarrassing it would be. And yet by the second day, the thought of not seeing him seemed much worse.
    Four days and three sleepless nights later, she’d decided it would be best to keep it friendly. So she’d gone by his place to ask for sugar. Like none of the three doors 30
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    Color My Heart
    between them had some. He’d opened the door shirtless and wearing only his jeans, stared at her for a long moment, then he’d stepped back to let her in.
    Gone speechless, Hannah had held out her tiny sugar cup with trembling hands, her every cell blooming to his presence.
    His gentle yet penetrating gaze never left her face as he pushed the door shut behind her, slowly pried the cup out of her grasp, and wrapped his free arm around her waist.
    “Yeah. Me too,” he’d whispered before he kissed her.
    Oh, God, how well he’d fucked her that night…and each one after.
    Yes, Billy was different.
    But Hannah recalled having thought that of all the other guys.
    Now her savings were next to zero, her pride still smarted from the blow of that no-good cheater, and if it hadn’t been for Billy—she’d be in therapy by now and gone flat broke from it. But now she was needy for him instead of some psychiatrist and ached for the steady, solid feel of his body against hers, intoxicated by the way he made her feel.
    Hannah could not let that happen.
    They’d said it would just be sex, not exclusive, not obligatory, just sex.
    She snickered to herself. She’d bite her toes if what they had was just sex. Because here she was, a breath away from believing in happily ever after again.
    Well. She hadn’t worn this stupid dress for nothing. And as Margie had said, there were excellent catches in the building. Other than Billy.
    “Don’t think I’ve seen you before,” a masculine drawl said from nearby. Turning toward the voice, she watched the tall, green-eyed Lance approach, a drink in each hand, and he slowly extended one out to her.
    She accepted the offering, saying, “Hannah.” She cocked her head toward the building behind her, adding, “221”, and a dazzling smile to go with that.
    “Lance,” he said then.
    Very sultrily, as if she’d been waiting for him her whole life, she whispered, “I know,” and lifted the foam cup to her lips, studying all six feet of Lance with womanly appreciation. “Nice to meet you, Lance.”
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    “Oh, the pleasure is all mine.”
    Was it really?
    She stared at him with eyes that sparkled like those of the besotted.