More Than Fiends Read Online Free PDF

Interest?
    Oh boy. Flirting 101.
    It had been a long time for me, and I wasn’t sure how to play this. After all, this was supposed to be a business meeting, but at the same time, how often does a guy like Devlin Cole trot through your life?
    Um, let me think…never?
    â€œNext time, I’ll mention your name,” I said.
    â€œNext time, I’ll invite you,” he said, and the timbre of his voice dropped about three octaves, and the resulting shiver along my spine made me quiver all over.
    No doubt that was unintentional. To men like this one, flirting came as naturally as breathing. But I wasn’t complaining. This little interview was really going to spice up my fantasies for a while.
    He headed for the stairs, and I hurried to keep up with him even though the view from behind was pretty spectacular. Broad shoulders and great butt. Added to that smile, a triple threat.
    Lucky me.
    His big hand skimmed the polished banister as we walked up the stairs. “Have you lived here long?” he asked.
    â€œAll my life.” Boring, I know. Born in La Sombra, raised here, still living here and will probably die right here, too. God, quick, somebody! Find me a biographer!
    â€œYour family’s from here, too?”
    â€œNo, actually, I’m a princess, but gypsies stole me and brought me to La Sombra.” Crap. Shut up, Cassidy. Don’t let the nervous rambling start again.
    He chuckled and I relaxed a little. Probably not a good idea. I ramble when I’m nervous, but I really talk when I’m relaxed.
    â€œSo how about you? I mean, I know you’re not from here, so…where?”
    Did he stiffen a little? The moment came and went so fast I wasn’t sure. But, hell, maybe he was just a touch more private than someone like me, who has been known to tell perfect strangers things most folks wouldn’t confess to a shrink.
    â€œEurope, originally,” he said finally. “I moved here from Cleveland twelve years ago.”
    And no accent. A shame, really. A guy like him should have an accent. Something Latin, maybe. Or, God help me, Irish.
    â€œCleveland?” I asked with a laugh. “Sorry. It’s not really funny, but you don’t seem like the Midwestern kind of guy. And from Europe to Cleveland. Not exactly the kind of move most people would think to make. You know, sitting at a street café in Paris, you don’t usually think, ‘I’m tired of this life. Think I’ll move to Cleveland.’”
    Somebody stop me!
    â€œI was visiting…friends in Ohio. I didn’t stay there long. I don’t care for snow.”
    â€œOh.” Reasonable. “Me, neither. Give me the ocean and an eighty-degree Christmas with Santa in board shorts every time.”
    â€œHmm…”
    Was he bored?
    Terrified?
    At the head of the stairs he paused, and I took a sec to look around. Even the hallway was pretty spectacular. Long and wide, a thick white—a bitch to keep clean—carpet covered the floor, and the walls were painted a soft, dusky blue. Framed photos dotted the walls, and my gaze went to the closest one.
    A naked woman in silhouette, arching over her lover—a man, also in silhouette. Strange, but the shadowed people made the photos even more erotic than they would have been had the figures been well lit.
    â€œYou like the photos?”
    â€œBeautiful,” I said and swallowed hard as I glanced at the next one. There, the silhouettes were posed in an acrobatic clinch that made me wonder if anyone was really that limber.
    â€œOur photographer has a good imagination,” he said.
    â€œI’ll say.”
    He grinned at me, then took my arm and steered me to the first door on the right. He opened it and stepped back for me to take a look. Ah, finally . I was going to get my first peek at a top-of-the-line fantasy room in an exclusive sex club. I braced myself to maintain a look of sophistication despite being