One Night: A BWWM Interracial Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

used her momentary embarrassment to pull the boot off and fling it across the room. He reached for the other leg and the resistance was milder this time.   With one boot already off, he had no trouble tugging the other one down.   She laughed as he flung it in the air.  
    They both flinched as it hit the table in the dining area with a loud smack.   Then they looked at each other and laughed even harder.  
    Both of her legs were in his lap now and he stroked one calf, his hand gliding over the firm curve, down to the ankle. He looked down at her bare feet. The toes were painted a dark blue.   It was an interesting look…on rather nicely shaped feet.  
    She traced a finger up his right arm to the sleeve. He knew what she was going for and tensed a bit.   It didn’t stop her from asking the question.
    “So, what’s the tattoo?” she asked.  
    Jake stared down at the leg he was stroking, not answering right away. The topic wasn’t exactly in line with where he wanted the night to go. Answering this question would lead to other questions and pretty soon they’d be down the rabbit hole of his sordid history. Frankly, he wasn’t quite sober enough to finagle the answer in such a way that it would end the discussion.  
    “Snake,” he said simply. “Black mamba.”  
    His eyes shifted to her and found a smirk there.   Oh, boy; she had no idea what door she was opening.  
    “So, what’s the story there?” she probed. “Let me see it!”  
    He took in her face: the hazy, whiskey-tinged gleam in her eyes; the high cheekbones and cute chin; the lips he wanted to place his on top of to stop this line of questioning. Instead he sighed and looked back down at her legs.  
    “It’s a long story.”
    “You planning on kicking me out soon?” she said teasingly, too tipsy to pick up on his tone.  
    “It’s in honor of a friend who died,” he said, giving her a somber look. “Killed, actually.”  
    Her face changed immediately. He could see the regret in her face at the playful way she’d touched on the subject.
    “I’m sorry,” she said.   Her brows drew inward and the corners of her lips turned down as she looked anywhere but at him. Jake had no desire to see her do that kind of 180 so he softened the blow.
    “It was a long time ago,” he assured her. It had been 2 years ago but he still had occasional vivid dreams about it. She didn’t seem reassured at all from the look on her face. Perhaps a good purge would abate the temperature drop in the room.  
    “I wasn’t always a writer,” he began. Her eyes shot back up toward him, interested.  
    “My field was…let’s just call it a special division unit,” he fudged. It was actually pretty close to the truth, though there wasn’t much “special” about it.   In reality he was a the glorified heavy lifting for the C.I.A. When they needed men to make a move in enemy territory his group was the crew who drove the cars, cleared the area, kept the locals at bay, and, if necessary, got a little more aggressive. More often than not, it was necessary.
    “We were in…,” he paused. This was where it got tricky. He had sat through God knew how many exit interviews and signed his life away when he left the service. He knew what he could and couldn’t reveal.   They had nearly had a conniption when his book was up for publication. His publisher had nearly dropped him. But the book sold, and sold well…and turned out to be a nice, shiny, little piece of glowing propaganda for the current War on Terror. They came to an agreement that he could continue in his new career as long as he never mentioned specifics. Fine by him.  
    “…The Middle East.   I can’t give details, you understand?”
    Natalie’s eyes glowed as she nodded. Espionage and war games in foreign countries always got civilians excited. They had glamorous ideas about Jason Bourne leaping across rooftops and leading police cars in chases through the streets of Europe. Perhaps