Flame Unleashed (Hell to Pay) Read Online Free PDF Page A

within.
    Like the pull from a magnet, he leaned toward her again, satisfied by her sharp intake of air but ecstatic when that movement pushed her breasts up. So close, he could almost reach out and feel their fullness in his hands.
    She backed up from the doorway and bumped into the wall, hands pressed against his chest. Her hot palms branded him, and he wanted more of that heat over every inch of his body.
    Those beautiful eyes darkened as she looked up at him.
    Certainly not an ice queen. The eyes gave it away every time. Any intense emotion turned every Indebted’s irises black. The Indebted couldn’t regulate that response.
    Her now-obsidian eyes widened as she gasped. So. Not so prim and proper a façade as she might like to convey.
    Not the leather-clad diva, either, though. Fascinating. She was neither character.
    He lifted his hand until it hovered an inch from the skin of her neck.
    Like a man about to jump off a cliff, he paused.
    Damn it, he needed to touch her.
    The vein pulsed at the base of her neck. That location would suffice.
    He feathered his fingertips over the heated skin. Silk. Warm silk.
    His existence boiled down to a two-inch square of this woman’s neck. And he couldn’t care less.
    The sigh from her full, parted lips threatened his sanity. He inhaled, as if to absorb her breath, her scent of mint and lavender. The aroma made his head spin.
    How in the name of God did the tiniest touch of his fingers on her skin create such boiling pressure in his groin? Delicious and painful, the electrical sensation shot from his hand to his hardening manhood. He wanted relief.
    He shifted, trying to decrease the pressure of garments that were suddenly two sizes too small. Damn it, the movement only made things worse.
    She licked her lips.
    He had to taste. A scientific study only, to see if that lush mouth tasted as good as it looked.
    “Ruth?”
    His old friend’s voice cut through the moment.
    The woman, Ruth, startled and blinked those multicolored irises from onyx back to amber, and the spell was broken. She scooted away from him, back pressed to the wall, her cheeks flushed a delightful shade of pink.
    “I’ll be right there,” she called over her shoulder.
    The pulse in her neck danced. Good.
    He took a step back, displeased that the heady scent of her no longer flooded his senses.
    She licked lips too pillowy soft for conventional beauty but well proportioned within her sculpted face. “So you must be ...?”
    “Odilon Pierre-Noir. At your service,
mon chèri
.”
    Odie lifted her hand to his lips, inhaling the light lavender perfume once more. Darkness swallowed the gold flecks in her irises as she watched him.
    In contrast to her cool demeanor, the porcelain skin of her hand radiated heat against his mouth. When he reluctantly released her hand, the silky slide of her palm against his fingers shot a bolt of longing into his gut.
    She frowned. “Your last name, it’s different. We all take the surname of “Blackstone” when we become Indebted.”
    “It’s French. Means ‘black stone.’ I prefer it to the English name.”
    “Odilon?”
    “Yes, old Acadian. Very old. My friends call me Odie.”
    “OD? As in ‘overdose’?”
    One arched brow quirked upward, but the rest of her expression remained impassive. She would make a formidable poker player, and Odie did so enjoy gambling. Bet he could change her countenance in the bedroom from guarded to cosmic pleasure. He’d gladly ante up all his chips trying.
    With effort, he dragged his imagination away from images of her glorious body laid out for him on a soft mattress, or floor, or any surface that allowed him to explore her curves, and refocused on the conversation. “My
mamam
would be hurt; she was proud of that name.”
    Just the tiniest quirk of a corner of her mouth. A chink in the defenses. Something for him to work on later.
    “Hmm. All right, come with me then, Odie.”
    She turned on her heel, giving him a spectacular view of