StrokeofMidnight Read Online Free PDF Page A

living room that
opened off the small foyer caused a vulnerability she detested.
    “Very nice,” he commented, bringing his inspection to rest
on her face. With those deep blue eyes that seemed to see far too much, the
touch of his gaze was almost tactile. She resisted rubbing her face to discover
if she’d inadvertently left behind a dab of moisturizer.
    “What?” she asked, wheezing as if she’d just sprinted around
the block.
    “Nothing,” he said and, with the same half-smile quirking a
corner of his mouth, extended the coffee cup again. “Please,” he murmured.
    “Shit,” she mumbled and accepted the hot drink. Their
fingertips brushed and a bolt of lightning charged up her arm, straight to her
breasts and zinged to her pussy. Winded, she glanced down at her linen sheath,
amazed no scorch patterns appeared on her clothes. She flicked her eyes up and
slammed into such heat, the raw power in his gaze intensified the sweet ache in
her nipples and between her thighs.
    God, his stare seemed to burn a hole right through her.
    Had anyone ever looked at her like that before? Yes. He had.
While stripping her clothes from her body. While staring up at her from between
her spread thighs as he circled her clit with his tongue in a wicked caress.
While pounding into her pussy with such force the headboard had banged against
the wall in time to his measured and deliberate thrusts.
    Blood rushed between her thighs, and even now the echo of
those demanding strokes pulsed deep in her sex. Moisture glazed her slit,
drenching her panties. The power this man had over her body with one look. It
should be criminal.
    Rowyn ducked her head on the pretense of drinking her coffee
and stepped back. She lifted the cup to her mouth, sipped and jerked her head
up in shock.
    “You know how I take my coffee?” she asked, the creamy
flavor of the brew still on her tongue. Most people would assume a ball-buster
like her would prefer her coffee black, not liberally sweetened with cream and
sugar.
    “You ordered a cup before we left the bar,” he reminded her
and cocked his head, studying her. “There isn’t much I don’t remember about
you, Rowyn.”
    Silence filled the foyer. His words dropped in her soul like
a pebble in a pool of water and unfamiliar warmth rippled out in ever-widening
rings of tenderness. He barely knew her and yet he’d noticed and remembered her
likes. She couldn’t even say the same about her family.
    “Well…” She cleared her throat and curled her toes
self-consciously against the cool wood floor. “What are you doing here?”
    “Since this is my first time to your city, I thought I’d do
the tourist thing.” He gave her what he probably considered a charming smile.
And damn him, it was. “I couldn’t think of a better guide than you.”
    “What have you been smoking?” Flames rushed up her neck and
singed her face as he grinned wide. She grimaced and wondered where the hell
her much-lauded reserve had disappeared to.
    Rowyn made it an art of hiding her emotions behind a wall of
indifference. She’d learned long ago if she didn’t give a reaction,
people—Pamela—didn’t derive as much pleasure from needling and provoking her.
So how Darius managed to slip under her defenses and wreak hell so effortlessly
boggled her mind. “It’s a workday, in case you haven’t noticed. And that’s
where I’m headed. To work.”
    “Take a day off.”
    “I don’t take days off,” she protested, balking.
    He arched a brow and she ground her teeth together,
surprised she didn’t exhale powdered enamel. God, she was beginning to hate
that eyebrow.
    “There’s a first time for everything,” he replied calmly.
    “Not today there—”
    Darius held up a finger and her mind blanked at the
imperious gesture. She blinked. Then blinked again. “Did you…” she sputtered.
“Did you just hold up a finger on me ?” Her voice rose a decibel with
each word, outrage and disbelief jacking the volume up to