Who Wants to Be a Sex Goddess? Read Online Free PDF

kind of body that rang bells in her libido.
    She stood just inside the door and pushed her glasses down to the tip of her nose. The glasses were a real nuisance. She couldn’t find her dinner mates. How could she find evidence of her missing aunt? They’d have to meet with an untimely demise. And soon.
    After a minute, she spotted Jeannie’s red hair at a table at the back of the room. She was draped over the stocky attendant named Demetri.
    Dillon was standing with his back to Andy. She just caught a glimpse of his broad shoulders before he was blocked from view by a passing group of goddesses. The last woman trailed a finger along the edge of his kilt.
    Dillon jumped as if he’d been goosed, and Andy felt a rush of possessiveness. He was her attendant. She shoved her glasses up and hurried toward her place.
    By the time she reached him, he was a mere blur, but she could swear she’d recognize him by his scent, which was soap and all man. He stepped back and she sprawled across a chair, that she hadn’t seen. He must have just pulled it out for her. As she struggled to get up, a hand grasped each of her arms, and she was lifted into the seat. Then he shoved the chair closer to the table, while Andy blushed hot with embarrassment and frustration.
    It killed her to not be able to tell him what she was really like, that she could out-goddess Athena without breaking a sweat.
    â€œBetter?” he asked, leaning close to her. His breath was warm and tickled her ear. Her nipples tightened beneath her toga and shirt.
    I’d be a lot better if you’d just take me under this table, she thought, but she said, “Yes. Thank you.” And stared down at her plate—at least she thought it was a plate—until he moved away.
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    Dillon was feeling more kindly toward Ms. Mouse. And grateful. She was the only woman who hadn’t tried to grope him since he’d donned his damn kilt. He began to fill glasses from a heavy silver water pitcher and felt a twinge in his elbow. Christ, he couldn’t even pour water without pain.
    At least he didn’t have to carry the heavy tray of covered dishes that Demetri was wielding like a Frisbee. He braced his arm with his other hand and leaned over to fill his goddess’s glass.
    He felt something crawl up his inside thigh.
    What the hell? He was thinking bug, when a hand slipped between his legs and cupped his jockstrap. He jerked up; water sloshed out of the pitcher, splashing the table.
    He’d spoken too soon. The bitch had just goosed him. He turned on her, frowning. She was glaring back at him. And with good cause. She was drenched. Water ran off her hair and fell in drops off her nose. Her toga and that prim white shirt she wore underneath it were soaked through.
    His anger quickly took a backseat to lust as his gaze stuck on the full, rounded breasts that were outlined by the wet fabric. His mouth opened involuntarily. And he was hit with an image of Ms. Mouse with her thick hair flowing down her back, her toga without the tailored shirt wet and clinging to luscious curves.
    The hand settled back on his crotch and squeezed.
    He glowered down at Ariadne. She was using both hands to wipe water out of her eyes. He whirled around and caught the wrist of the woman on his other side, just as she pulled her hand out of his kilt. It was the redhead he’d traded away that morning.
    â€œOops,” she said, grinning, and picked up her knife and fork.
    He turned back to Ariadne, dimly aware that everyone was gaping at her. Great. He’d probably be fired. Wouldn’t that just seal his future for him. He couldn’t even handle an assignment this simple. But one look at the dripping woman and he forgot his own problems. She looked mortified. He was such an ass.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “Really, I am. Are you okay?” Not waiting for an answer, he handed her a linen napkin.
    She snatched it from him and wiped her