Wicked Lovers 07 Ours to Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

pants stretched tightly across lush hips and
     thighs.
    “Good morning.” He propped himself up on his elbows and stared. Shit, he had no memory
     of this gorgeous woman. If he’d finally decided to get back on the proverbial bike
     and start riding again, he’d chosen well, but he wished to fuck he could remember
     it. When would he have found her? Where? His head throbbed. Nothing made sense.
    A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. She reached to the little table
     beside the chair, picked up a steaming mug, and sipped. “Coffee?”
    “Please,” he croaked. It would help to clear his head, and maybe while she fetched
     the brew he might get some spark of recollection. “Black.”
    But no. He watched her curvy backside retreat until she disappeared down the hall
     and around a corner. Nothing. Why couldn’t he remember getting her supine and under
     him?
    She came back a few moments later with another piping-hot mug and set it with a saucer
     on the little bedside table, along with two familiar orange tablets. “There you go.
     With a little ibuprofen, as well.”
    Bless her.
Javier eased up, surprised to realize he was wearing his boxers and nothing else.
     He didn’t bother covering himself with the sheet because the gorgeous brunette had
     presumably seen and touched it all. Hadn’t she?
    “So . . .” he started as he grabbed his coffee and gulped it, using it to wash down
     the pills.
    “So.” She took a sip from her own mug and raised a brow.
    Hell, she wasn’t giving him anything to work with. He was just going to have to be
     indelicate. “I’m sorry, but I have to confess . . . I don’t remember your name.”
    She looked even more amused, which confused him. Why wasn’t she pissed off? “I’m Kata.”
    Still not ringing any bells. “I’m Javier.”
    “I know.” Now she looked like she was suppressing a laugh as she sipped more of her
     coffee.
    “Listen, you’re probably going to think I’m an ass, but I don’t remember anything
     about last night. Did we, um . . .” The word “fuck” sounded too raunchy to say to
     her clean-scrubbed face. “Make love” was too personal. He didn’t make love to anyone.
     “Have sex?”
    “You don’t remember?” She batted her lashes, looking just a little bit crushed.
    Immediately, he felt like a heel and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Damn it!
     I must have had too much to drink and . . .” Shit, that sounded bad. He needed to
     shut up and focus on what had happened last night. It would be so much easier if pain
     wasn’t still thundering in his head. But he owed it to Kata to try.
    After leaving Dominion, Xander had dragged his ass back to the Dallas mansion they’d
     rented. A member of the staff had brought him a dinner plate. He’d halfheartedly picked
     at it before prowling the house like a caged beast desperate for freedom. When he
     stalked back to his room, a convenient glass of Cîroc had been sitting on his nightstand,
     luring him wordlessly to oblivion. He’d downed it gratefully.
    Only now was he questioning where it had come from. Xander had done his level best
     to remove all the booze from the house. So why had that glass been there? And why
     did he feel as if he had more than the usual hangover? Unless . . . Xander had put
     the vodka there and laced it with something stronger. How the hell else could he be
     here, wherever here was, with a complete stranger?
    “Where am I?” he asked.
    “You’re in Lafayette, Louisiana.”
    What?
Wasn’t Lafayette basically at the crossroads between Nowhere Town and Hicksville?
     Yes, it was the ass crack of the world. He’d never been here, never wanted to even
     visit. There was no way he could have driven himself the six hours to Lafayette last
     night and not remembered it. This had to be his brother’s doing.
That son of a bitch!
Apparently, Xander didn’t understand the meaning of “fuck off,” but Javier swore
     he’d pound it