Getting Familiar with Your Demon: That Old Black Magic, Book 4 Read Online Free PDF

She stopped in front of him and nodded toward his blood-soaked shirt. “You’ll need to take that off.”
    Much as he wanted to argue, giving in would get him one step closer to leaving this place. Plus the idea of her hands on his bare skin intrigued him far more than it should. He stared at her delicate, slender fingers, a lick of lust battling with the wary edginess building within him. After the endless misery Nettie had foisted upon him, the notion of being the slightest bit attracted to a witch was a damn abomination. His cock would do well to remember that fact.
    Unfortunately, that part of his anatomy rebelliously hardened when he hiked up his shirt and wrestled it over his head. The garment hit the ground, and his rescuer gaped at his chest, seemingly unconcerned with the inevitable blood leaching into her floor. “What happened to you?”
    It took a moment to remember the residual scars from Toran’s whip. He shrugged in response to her horrified look. “I got into a fight with an alley cat and lost.”
    Her expression hinted that she wasn’t falling for his line. Hell, she could believe whatever she wanted. He wasn’t about to go into an in-depth sob story regarding his past.
    Biting her lip, she pressed the cool cloth to his wound and began gently cleaning it. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”
    The notion of her soft stroking inflicting any kind of pain wasn’t entirely laughable. His throbbing cock sure as hell testified to that reality. Somehow he doubted she’d be willing to kiss it and make it better though.
    “I’ll survive.” The gravel in his voice must have betrayed him because her focus darted to his face. Their gazes locked, and a flush bloomed across her cheeks.
    She did that lip-nibbling thing again that provided his baser instincts with prime fantasy material before she dropped her hand and retreated to the sink. The dishtowel landed in the basin with a wet plop. She stooped, making her sweater ride up enough to reveal a tantalizing strip of pale, creamy flesh near her tailbone. He visualized tracing the small hollow at the base of her spine with his tongue.
    He shook his head furiously and groaned when the action earned him stars shooting in his vision. Desperate to banish the tormenting pinpricks of brilliant light, he slammed his eyes shut and let his head loll back weakly. The staccato click of heels announced the return of his lusciously scented savior, but he resolved to not look at her, convinced it’d do the trick of dampening his strange fascination with her.
    A hesitant, feather-light touch grazed his jaw, making him jerk and shattering his hard-fought control. He stared into worried blue eyes. A strange sensation twisted in his gut and radiated throughout him. Sweat seeped down his roasting skin. He couldn’t break the magnetic force of their linked gazes. As if they held a will of their own, his hands lifted and molded over her breasts. Her firm, soft, lust-inspiring breasts.
    She gasped, but the sound barely cracked through his haze. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the stinging smack she delivered to his right cheek.
    The swirling stars started up again, and he winced. “Was that necessary?”
    “Yes. You’re groping me, in case you didn’t notice.”
    Like there was any chance every inch of his body wasn’t aware of the lush bounty of feminine flesh resting in his palms. With a mixture of relief and regret, he let go of her. “Shit, I must be drunker than I thought.”
    Unmistakable hurt flashed in her eyes before she masked it. “Why? Because you made a pass at me?”
    “Let’s get something clear. That was me copping a cheap feel, nothing more. Hell, you’re so far from my type we might as well be different species.” He offered a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah, we are.”
    She rolled her lips tight. “You’re not exactly my type either.”
    “Good. Glad we agree on the subject.” He dropped his scrutiny to the sewing basket she’d placed near