The Path to James Read Online Free PDF

and I'm not wearing any makeup.
    “This is private land.”
    I jump.
    I'm pulled from my reverie, following the sound of the mellifluous voice until the man behind it is visible. “I won't tell if you won't,” I retort before I can find the source of the comment.
    “I own the property,” his voice is gruff, but he sounds amused.
    My view of a manicured lawn and the handsomest man I have ever seen had been obstructed by a line of trees. If the guy hadn't said anything, I would have passed right by. I peek around the last tree and regard the man lounging on the bench at the edge of his yard.
    He must have only heard my footsteps, he wouldn't have been able to see me. He is dressed in slack drawstring pants, and nothing else. His hairstyle is short-cropped and dark brown, disheveled from bed. His stomach is washboard abs, his arms are taut and muscular. His bare chest has a light dusting of hair that trails seductively downward. As my eyes poke out from around the trunk of my tree, he glances up from the laptop in his lap. He looks so strikingly similar to my fantasies, to my dream man, that it throws my mind out of balance, forcing me to fumble for words.
    “I'm on your property?” I breathe, I ask only because I'm not venturing through his lawn, but I don't know if he owns the surrounding area.
    “Yes,” the man shuts his laptop to give me his full attention. I look away self-consciously as his brown eyes meet mine. I'm vaguely aware of his gaze tracing down my sweaty, sun-kissed body.
    I swallow. “Do you accept bruised apples as payment for safe passage?” I'm mostly teasing, I don't think he really cares that I'm just passing through.
    “Is that all you have?” He almost sounds like he's chastising me. Like he thinks I should be able to offer him more.
    I look up alarmed and my arm instinctively goes for the bear mace clipped to the side of my pack. “What do you want?” My eyes have narrowed and my voice involuntarily goes cold.
    “No,” the man sits up and places his laptop to the side of him. “I didn't mean it that way. I'm not looking for payment, Jesus.”
    He stands and his pants slip slightly lower, just clinging to his hips, and that sexy-line is clearly visible. I bite my lip, gazing in admiration, then realize how my expression must look. What is wrong with me! I clear my throat and hope he hadn't noticed.
    He had.
    “Look,” the man comes closer to me, leaving the manicured lawn and crunching through the debris-littered wilderness. “I was just thinking you might be able to use a good meal.”
    I step back as he steps forward. My heart is pounding, I don't know this man. I look him up and down apprehensively. You know, Ted Bundy was rumored to be such a nice guy.
    Sensing my apprehension this stranger stops and leans with his arm outstretched. He is still a good four feet away, and I'm forced to close the distance between us to accept his amicable handshake. My free hand keeps a firm hold on my mace. I don't care how affable this guy appears, from what I've heard, John Wayne Gacy was thought of as quite the gentleman.
    When our hands meet, I can feel his firm hold lower inside me. I find myself biting my lower lip again. Between my legs is just warmth and tingling. My stomach flutters. What is wrong with me!
    His eyes have brightened, from a distance I thought they were entirely brown, but up close I can see flecks of green. “Will you have breakfast with me?” His lips quirk into a smile and his teeth are straight, white and perfect.
    He keeps hold of my hand longer than the span of a customary handshake. His long fingers wrap around my skin in a firm grip. It's okay though, I don't really want him to let me go.
    Thinking about the time, I pull my phone out of my pocket. Crap , I forgot it was dead. I flash this stranger the lifeless screen, as if that explains why I just rolled my eyes at myself. I look up, tracking the sun's position. He finally lets my hand go. My skin feels oddly