Read Online Cassie's Chance by Antonia Paul - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Antonia Paul
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Finn a look Eartha couldn't interpret, said she needed to find Kostas, and squeezed Eartha's arm as she pulled away.
Finn turned to her; he loomed in her personal space. Eartha moved like a feinting fencer, trying to keep her distance. But he was now between her and the room, almost near enough for her to breathe him in along with his faint musky scent
"Eartha because of Eartha Kitt, I would guess." He grinned down at her.
She nodded, momentarily surprised anyone who wasn't black and raised by her Nanna would make the association. Well. A blacker-than-thou liberal might. She folded her arms across her chest.
"A great entertainer, verrry sexy" he said, deliberately rolling his 'r's in the back of his throat in the style of Ms Kitt.
Glib white boy.
She rolled her eyes inwardly.
Finn was Mr Nosey, too. He plied her with question after question; to her annoyance, she found she responded to his easy manner, and laughed at his wit.
She shifted slightly, angling herself away from him, and her left hand twirled at the loose hairs at her temple, a nervous habit from childhood. The memory of stinging blows from a switch came suddenly to mind; Nanna's way of trying to break her of the habit. She tucked the offending hand back into the crook of her right elbow.
His musk scent grew stronger. He was far too close. She tried to back away, but couldn't: emotionally because she was mesmerized; physically because her back was against the wall between two windows.
"Tell me, why does Sam call you Earthly Girl?"
Get Bound to Rebel here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00F2WX8JG/
Bound to Submit
Part Two of a Series with Ashton Finn and Eartha Keane .
Read an excerpt:
Finn returned to her on the subway, large in her mind, and she played with the ends of her hair on her half-hour commute while gazing at her reflection in the darkened windows.
Could there be something he didn't like about her?
"Eartha, you still haven't given me your notes on the Stephenson summary." Her secretary Deidre had her head around the door and a frown on her face. "You know Marty said he wanted it done today."
With a start, Eartha realized that it was the second time Deidre had asked her about the report she should have read and annotated by lunchtime. Normally, if given something straightforward before nine - and Stephenson's work was in that category - she had it finished by ten.
Normally. The report lay on her desk, only half read. In her defence, there'd been two long meetings and a briefing. But it was after two. She'd found pie-charts turned into Finn's face when she looked at them too hard. And she had to look at them hard when checking for omissions. It wasn't very interesting work.
"I'll be finished shortly, Deidre, thank you."
Analytical Eartha gave herself a kick. Damn the man. Enough day-dreaming. She had to work. She ripped off the doodled-on desk-pad sheet and circular filed it.
But of course she thought about him on way home, and in bed where she came twice calling his name, and the next morning before their Partners and Associates meeting, during which she guessed she looked slightly out-of-it, because Marty asked if everything was all right.
She imagined him naked, erect, as he drove his hard cock into her - she caught herself reacting constantly - and was afraid someone would sniff out the reason she was distracted. There was always gossip in the firm about relationships formed or broken. Eartha had never been the subject of it and didn't want to be.
She kept to herself as much as she could, and stayed a table's distance from her colleagues at lunch.
Finn was too new and raw, and whatever they had was too altogether awkward. She didn't want to share even a rumor of him. What did they have? She asked herself that question more than once.
Sanity had returned on Friday when she woke. She was over it. If he'd been interested, he would have called, or responded to her messages. Or something. And he hadn't.
She wore a
Finn turned to her; he loomed in her personal space. Eartha moved like a feinting fencer, trying to keep her distance. But he was now between her and the room, almost near enough for her to breathe him in along with his faint musky scent
"Eartha because of Eartha Kitt, I would guess." He grinned down at her.
She nodded, momentarily surprised anyone who wasn't black and raised by her Nanna would make the association. Well. A blacker-than-thou liberal might. She folded her arms across her chest.
"A great entertainer, verrry sexy" he said, deliberately rolling his 'r's in the back of his throat in the style of Ms Kitt.
Glib white boy.
She rolled her eyes inwardly.
Finn was Mr Nosey, too. He plied her with question after question; to her annoyance, she found she responded to his easy manner, and laughed at his wit.
She shifted slightly, angling herself away from him, and her left hand twirled at the loose hairs at her temple, a nervous habit from childhood. The memory of stinging blows from a switch came suddenly to mind; Nanna's way of trying to break her of the habit. She tucked the offending hand back into the crook of her right elbow.
His musk scent grew stronger. He was far too close. She tried to back away, but couldn't: emotionally because she was mesmerized; physically because her back was against the wall between two windows.
"Tell me, why does Sam call you Earthly Girl?"
Get Bound to Rebel here:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00F2WX8JG/
Bound to Submit
Part Two of a Series with Ashton Finn and Eartha Keane .
Read an excerpt:
Finn returned to her on the subway, large in her mind, and she played with the ends of her hair on her half-hour commute while gazing at her reflection in the darkened windows.
Could there be something he didn't like about her?
"Eartha, you still haven't given me your notes on the Stephenson summary." Her secretary Deidre had her head around the door and a frown on her face. "You know Marty said he wanted it done today."
With a start, Eartha realized that it was the second time Deidre had asked her about the report she should have read and annotated by lunchtime. Normally, if given something straightforward before nine - and Stephenson's work was in that category - she had it finished by ten.
Normally. The report lay on her desk, only half read. In her defence, there'd been two long meetings and a briefing. But it was after two. She'd found pie-charts turned into Finn's face when she looked at them too hard. And she had to look at them hard when checking for omissions. It wasn't very interesting work.
"I'll be finished shortly, Deidre, thank you."
Analytical Eartha gave herself a kick. Damn the man. Enough day-dreaming. She had to work. She ripped off the doodled-on desk-pad sheet and circular filed it.
But of course she thought about him on way home, and in bed where she came twice calling his name, and the next morning before their Partners and Associates meeting, during which she guessed she looked slightly out-of-it, because Marty asked if everything was all right.
She imagined him naked, erect, as he drove his hard cock into her - she caught herself reacting constantly - and was afraid someone would sniff out the reason she was distracted. There was always gossip in the firm about relationships formed or broken. Eartha had never been the subject of it and didn't want to be.
She kept to herself as much as she could, and stayed a table's distance from her colleagues at lunch.
Finn was too new and raw, and whatever they had was too altogether awkward. She didn't want to share even a rumor of him. What did they have? She asked herself that question more than once.
Sanity had returned on Friday when she woke. She was over it. If he'd been interested, he would have called, or responded to her messages. Or something. And he hadn't.
She wore a
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