Their Virgin Hostage, Masters of Ménage, Book 5 Read Online Free PDF Page A

Something was off about that cart, but
she couldn’t stop staring at the men long enough to figure it out.
    Tall, with broad shoulders ready to burst out of their white
jackets. The one closest to her had to be six and a half feet tall. He had a
military cut of pitch-black hair and the most arresting blue eyes she’d ever
seen. She wouldn’t really describe his face as beautiful. He was far too
masculine for that. There was something savage about him that belied his formal
tuxedo-like uniform.
    “Miss Kohl? May we come in?” Though the words were spoken
more like a growl and a rumble, they were so very polite.
    And for some insane reason, that voice felt like a caress to
her skin. He could make love to a woman with that voice—and if she wasn’t about
to walk down the aisle to meet Greg, she’d probably let him.
    “Yeah.” Her own words came out in a breathy little puff. She
forced herself to look at Hottie Number Two.
    He was an inch shorter than big brother—and there was no
question they were brothers. It was in the set of their eyes and the identical
coloring, but after that, they differed. The shorter one looked slightly
younger, as though the world hadn’t weighed him down as heavily as his brother.
There was the beginning of a truly gorgeous smile on his face.
    “Miss? It’s hard for us to move into your room when you’re
standing in the doorway.” Hottie Number Two couldn’t
help but laugh a little. “You don’t want your food to get cold, do you?”
    How could anything possibly get cold when they were around?
She actually felt a stifling heat. Except for her feet. Her feet were ice
cold—at least metaphorically. Not only did she not want to meet Greg at the end
of the aisle, but she’d rather find herself in between these two men in a
totally inappropriate position.
    She flushed and stepped back, allowing them into the room.
Her runaway thoughts were all Annabelle’s fault. She joked about being in love
with three guys and refusing to choose. She’d told Kinley that she would have them all or they simply wouldn’t have her.
    She’d been joking, surely. But Belle had planted an interesting
notion in Kinley’s head…
    “Where do you want it, sweetheart?” Hottie Two asked.
    She could think of several places that she wanted it, each
more inappropriate than the last. But that probably wasn’t what they meant.
Even so, Kinley got totally flustered because all she
could think about was the man’s lips. They were full and sensual, and she
couldn’t help but wonder how he would kiss.
    “The tray. I meant the tray.” Those lips were curved up in a
knowing smile.
    Embarrassment flooded her. If they could read her thoughts,
she’d die. “By the window, please.”
    She needed to pull her damn self together and stop being an
idiot. And her heels were already killing her. She stepped gingerly around the
couch and reached for her purse. She pulled out a ten.
    “This light must be bothering you.” Hottie One was standing at the windows. The view was spectacular, but he made quick
work of the first set of blinds, closing them and blocking out the afternoon
light.
    “Not at all.” She liked the view.
    The man slid the second set of drapes closed. “I think
you’ll like it better if you know prying eyes can’t see in.”
    “Prying eyes?” Kinley asked. “Why
would anyone want to look at me?”
    Hottie One turned and pinned her
with his stare. He was so much more serious than his brother. She could tell it
by the set of his mouth. This was a man who almost never found anything to
smile about. “Because you’re lovely.”
    Tears threatened. They perched right there, making the world
watery. She wasn’t lovely. She was too fat and her eyes were a muddy brown
instead of Becks’s spectacular green. Even though she
was only twenty-five, her breasts probably sagged a little. Nothing about her
face was remarkable.
    But when the man told her she was lovely in that low rumble,
she almost believed