Read Online Convicted (Entangled Ignite) by Dee Tenorio - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dee Tenorio
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there wasn’t one.
…
He should have known from the look on her face when she came over the top of the grassy knoll that he was in for trouble. Four months of her random visits had given him plenty of time to memorize every one of her expressions, and this one was decidedly impish.
Still, he nearly choked when she poked disinterestedly at her salad and asked, “So what’s your favorite sexual position?”
“Trina, goddamn it—”
“Don’t get your skivvies in a twist, it was just a question.”
“It’s none of your damn business.” It was no one’s business. Least of all hers.
“Well, I’ll tell you mine.”
“ Don’t. ” Gritting his teeth wasn’t going to cut it if she insisted on pushing this topic.
“Ass up. Gets me every time.”
Cade covered his eyes with his hand and dragged his palm down his face so hard it hurt. Nope, not enough to get that mental picture out of his head. Maybe if he slapped himself…
“Doesn’t matter if I’m standing up, or on my knees or flat on my stomach—though, oh my God, that one is my absolute favorite—they all work for me. Three pumps, maybe four—”
“Trina!” He looked over at the woman lying back on her towel, staring up at the canopy of leaves overhead, her hips moving suggestively from side to side. “Why are you telling me this?”
And for the love of God, why wouldn’t she stop?
“You don’t want to know?”
Of course he wanted to know, damn it. That was the problem. From day one of these odd little lunch dates, he’d wanted to know more about her. Why else would he sit and listen as she told her felon-tastic childhood stories? While she talked so much she made his entire head ache. And damn, but the woman could prod with her questions and her jokes. Her attempts to hit on him. And just when he’d be ready to explode and tell her to get the hell away, she’d disappear for days at a time. Making him miss her enough to be excited when she came back.
Him. Who didn’t miss anyone.
“We’re not talking about sex,” he told her through his teeth. Again. She brought it up so much it was starting to be all he could think about whenever he saw her.
“If we can’t talk about it, can we at least have it?” She flipped over onto her stomach, a neat little movement that didn’t even ripple her towel. “You’ve been holding out on me for months now.”
“Don’t you think about anything else?”
“Not since you moved to town,” she grumbled, dropping her forehead on her hands.
“Well, try .”
She responded only by lifting her middle fingers in twin salute.
His sentiments exactly. “Things okay at the bar?”
“I come here so I can not think about the bar,” she answered, still facedown.
“You come here to drive me insane.”
She lifted her head, finally smiling. “Nah, that’s just a bonus.”
The woman made no damn sense. Lately, she’d even started showing up at his house. His house . In the middle of the night, wheedling for a safe place to crash despite having her own damn house a hell of a lot closer to her bar. Needing a quick patch-up from a run-in at work or dinner or something or nothing. The one place in this town where he was supposed to be able to get away from everyone and everything and she was there. All the time. The biggest miracle? He hardly cared.
Because, somehow, he’d started looking forward to seeing her.
Listening to her low, husky laugh. Seeing those long, long legs stretched out in front of her, utterly comfortable next to him. Hearing her stories of stealing bikes in her teen years, which she claimed she’d done to justify the judgment of the townspeople, who lumped her crimes with her uncle’s. The worst part was the way she smiled when she told him these things. As if he were important to her. As if his opinion on her past mattered. Every time she did that, it was like the god damned sky cracked open and the fucking sun poured down on him.
Sun that didn’t hurt.
He hated it.
…
He should have known from the look on her face when she came over the top of the grassy knoll that he was in for trouble. Four months of her random visits had given him plenty of time to memorize every one of her expressions, and this one was decidedly impish.
Still, he nearly choked when she poked disinterestedly at her salad and asked, “So what’s your favorite sexual position?”
“Trina, goddamn it—”
“Don’t get your skivvies in a twist, it was just a question.”
“It’s none of your damn business.” It was no one’s business. Least of all hers.
“Well, I’ll tell you mine.”
“ Don’t. ” Gritting his teeth wasn’t going to cut it if she insisted on pushing this topic.
“Ass up. Gets me every time.”
Cade covered his eyes with his hand and dragged his palm down his face so hard it hurt. Nope, not enough to get that mental picture out of his head. Maybe if he slapped himself…
“Doesn’t matter if I’m standing up, or on my knees or flat on my stomach—though, oh my God, that one is my absolute favorite—they all work for me. Three pumps, maybe four—”
“Trina!” He looked over at the woman lying back on her towel, staring up at the canopy of leaves overhead, her hips moving suggestively from side to side. “Why are you telling me this?”
And for the love of God, why wouldn’t she stop?
“You don’t want to know?”
Of course he wanted to know, damn it. That was the problem. From day one of these odd little lunch dates, he’d wanted to know more about her. Why else would he sit and listen as she told her felon-tastic childhood stories? While she talked so much she made his entire head ache. And damn, but the woman could prod with her questions and her jokes. Her attempts to hit on him. And just when he’d be ready to explode and tell her to get the hell away, she’d disappear for days at a time. Making him miss her enough to be excited when she came back.
Him. Who didn’t miss anyone.
“We’re not talking about sex,” he told her through his teeth. Again. She brought it up so much it was starting to be all he could think about whenever he saw her.
“If we can’t talk about it, can we at least have it?” She flipped over onto her stomach, a neat little movement that didn’t even ripple her towel. “You’ve been holding out on me for months now.”
“Don’t you think about anything else?”
“Not since you moved to town,” she grumbled, dropping her forehead on her hands.
“Well, try .”
She responded only by lifting her middle fingers in twin salute.
His sentiments exactly. “Things okay at the bar?”
“I come here so I can not think about the bar,” she answered, still facedown.
“You come here to drive me insane.”
She lifted her head, finally smiling. “Nah, that’s just a bonus.”
The woman made no damn sense. Lately, she’d even started showing up at his house. His house . In the middle of the night, wheedling for a safe place to crash despite having her own damn house a hell of a lot closer to her bar. Needing a quick patch-up from a run-in at work or dinner or something or nothing. The one place in this town where he was supposed to be able to get away from everyone and everything and she was there. All the time. The biggest miracle? He hardly cared.
Because, somehow, he’d started looking forward to seeing her.
Listening to her low, husky laugh. Seeing those long, long legs stretched out in front of her, utterly comfortable next to him. Hearing her stories of stealing bikes in her teen years, which she claimed she’d done to justify the judgment of the townspeople, who lumped her crimes with her uncle’s. The worst part was the way she smiled when she told him these things. As if he were important to her. As if his opinion on her past mattered. Every time she did that, it was like the god damned sky cracked open and the fucking sun poured down on him.
Sun that didn’t hurt.
He hated it.
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