Naughty Wishes 4: Soul Read Online Free PDF Page A

a good way. “Christ,” he murmured. “You’re every man’s fantasy.”
    Her stomach leaped when Chris knocked. He actually knocked. But he would, wouldn’t he, if the woman of the house invited him in? She wondered if any of his customers had ever tried this on him before. He’d never reveal such a thing to her or Geoff, not in casual conversation. Chris was a gentleman. But had any of those women succeeded at what she was about to do? She banished the unpleasant thought. It didn’t matter anymore. He was hers now. Truly hers.
    “Come in,” she said. Was it crazy that her voice was thick, her pulse thudding as if he really was a relative stranger, coming in to sip her lemonade with the potential of seduction dancing between them? Or ravishment. Whether or not it was twisted of her, she got a definite charge from that idea. A forced seduction took choices away and let her get lost in the pure dark joy of it.
    When the yard boy came to do the weekly mowing, weeding and cutting, she saw how he watched her. She was a sexually mature woman. The look in his serious, intent eyes, the russet color of an animal’s, the set of his firm mouth, told her what he was thinking and wanting.
    Since the best fantasies were an overlap of fantasy and reality, Sam could recall a hundred instances where she’d seen that look in Chris’s eye. Because she now knew what it had meant, her heart tightened as much as her pulse leaped. This was what Chris had always wanted and what she could now have in reality. Not just in play or fantasy.
    He opened the door, coming to a halt at the sight of her standing in front of him without wearing a stitch.
    “It was such a hot day . . .” she said. Her voice trailed away, abandoning the silly line. He stood in her kitchen in just his work shoes and jeans, his cock a thick bar sculpted by the straining fabric. The rise and fall of his breath, the fix of his glittering eyes, the strands of hair scattered over his brow, the light curl of his hands at his sides, took the playfulness right out of her. But she tried to stick with her role and her intent—to wrap her lips around that engorged organ fighting to get free of his pants.
    “Why don’t you sit there?” She pointed to the kitchen chair.
    “No,” he said, and moved toward her. Her grip tightened on the glass. She felt inexplicably jumpy as he stopped in front of her. He was so much bigger. Hot, sweaty, vibrating with life and male energy. He ran his fingers along the glass, collecting the condensation off the side, and brought it to her lips, painting the wetness there. Tilting his head to study her breasts, he touched the tip of one, a kiss of cool, wet sensation.
    “What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely over a whisper. She was aware of Geoff watching them, a potent, silent regard.
    Taking the glass from her hand, Chris raised it to his lips and drank a few swallows. She reached up to glide her fingers down his throat, but his hand closed over her wrist before she could touch him. He kept that hold on her until he’d emptied half the glass and set it aside on the counter.
    Stretching out his other long arm, he opened the drawer where they kept the kitchen towels. He pulled out two and dropped them on the floor, one overlapping the other. Then he put downward pressure on her arm, telling her what he wanted, his brown eyes holding hers in a lock.
    Sam sank to her knees on the cushion he’d provided, wondering if he realized his act of caring, providing her a cushion for her knees, combined with the demanding clamp on her wrist, sent her the very arousing message that he was in control. Had it been driven by his own desires as much as her own? She hoped so.
    Opening his pants, he reached inside them and adjusted himself before pushing the jeans and boxers to his thighs so his heavy cock could spring free. She inhaled the salt-and-sweat male scent of him.
    Threading his fingers deeper into the fine strands of her hair, he