Divine Design Read Online Free PDF

completely in a stupor, Meghan flashed him a breathtaking smile. She promised herself that if he stayed awake long enough to service her, he wouldn’t regret it. In return, she would give him all the pleasure she possibly could. The idea was titillating. This mammoth man was physically very exciting. Her fingers were itching to touch him. Meghan guessed he would be as hard as a rock, as strong as a bear, and as warm as the Texas sun. The squirming knot low in her abdomen and the ticklish, tingling sensations running up and down her body as he studied each facet of her was, she knew, her own nervousness in this situation.
    “Some other time,” she told him, dismissing the drink and standing.
    He rose slowly to his full, towering height. He didn’t move for several seconds as his head adjusted to the altitude. Then he turned and motioned for her to precede him. As she came alongside him, he placed a big, warm hand flat on the small of her naked back.
    Once again, they were both shocked—she from the sparks that warmed her skin and tripped her heartbeat into overdrive, he from the fact that she was not only braless and shirtless from behind, but that she was also very warm and soft for a mirage.
    He made a mental note to instruct his secretary to book all his future visits to New York at the Essex—they served great scotch.
    The trip to his room was uneventful. Michael didn’t take his eyes off her for fear that she’d disappear and he’d find he really was walking down the hallway alone.
    He unlocked the door to his suite and stood aside for her to enter. She hesitated briefly, then walked into the room. He put the key on the table in the foyer and followed her into the sitting room. He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair. Loosening his tie, he turned to her. Incredibly beautiful and provocative, she stood tall and confident in the center of the room.
    Neither Michael nor his apparition had spoken since they’d left the lounge, but the air was thick with messages. Somewhere along the way, Michael had taken on the uneasy feeling that this was not the dream he thought it was. Oh, she was enchanting, for sure, and he hadn’t imagined the seduction in her eyes, either. But Michael was not an idiot, nor was he out of his mind with fatigue. Tired and suffering from jet lag, yes, but not yet unconscious. Something was definitely happening here.
    “May I order up some coffee for you? Or maybe your drink?” he asked politely.
    She shook her head slightly, her gaze never leaving his face as he studied her.
    His desire for her was not a delusion either. She had the kind of body a man wouldn’t tire of quickly—and he was only human. But every woman he’d ever known had a motive behind her actions. Some were motivated by love, some by money or other favors, some were just manipulative. It was true he’d taken women to bed out of pure mutual lust, but he’d also known them longer than an hour and a half. So what motive drove The Red-Headed Woman Named Jill?
    He moved over to the couch and sat down, turning slightly to indicate that he expected her to follow his lead and sit next to him.
    “Maybe we’ll just talk awhile,” he suggested in a deep, husky baritone voice.
    This time, as she gave the red cloud around her face a short negative shake, she reached both of her hands behind her. He heard the soft whiz of a zipper being pulled before her hands returned to her sides and her skirt slipped from her hips to pool at her feet.
    Every nerve in Michael’s body stood on end, his heart raced, and he recognized the familiar throbbing between his legs as he ravished her with his eyes. She was spectacular. A perfect contrast of colors—black on white. The black stockings accentuated the soft curves of her long, lean legs and the lace of the garter belt displayed the smooth, creamy perfection of her skin.
    Slowly, her hands went behind her again. The lower bands of the backless blouse fell forward