Read Online Deadly Secrets by Jaycee Clark - Free Book Online Page A

she went in through her courtyard and the door that led to her kitchen. Her front door led directly into her bedroom. She dug a key out of a loose brick and opened the door.
    Thank God she’d picked up yesterday and did her laundry. At least things were put away and lingerie wasn’t hanging haphazardly out of a drawer. The mosquito netting hanging from the ceiling around her queen-sized bed fluttered in the slight breeze that blew in when she opened the door.
    Quinlan waited on the threshold, a grin tilting the edge of his mouth up on one side. “Well, that’s convenient.”
    She jerked him in. “Yeah, sugar, tonight it most definitely is very convenient because I don’t wanna wait anymore.”
    Ella shut the old double doors behind them and then leaned back. Streetlight flooded into the room from the side windows. The ceiling fan made a slight whirring sound in the quiet. Too quiet.
    For a moment, they merely stood there, her against the door, him standing close, almost too close. Breathing, just breathing—barely.
    Quinlan stood silent and still for a beat longer. Tension stretched between them, coiled, tightened the air and her skin. Then he stepped toward her. “You sure about this?”
    “No. Yes. I’m sure I don’t want you to leave.”
    He smiled and nodded. “Okay, then.”
    She laid her hand on his chest and he leaned in and caged her with his arms on the doors behind her. His eyes, bright and wicked green, met hers as he slowly lowered his head.
    “So it’s been a bit for the both of us?”
    “Uh-huh,” she whispered, still meeting his gaze before dropping her own.
    “Well, they say it’s like riding a bike,” he whispered before his lips sealed hers. The man could kiss, his lips warm and soft, yet firm and demanding. His hands were everywhere, caressing, pressing, rubbing. The silky material of her dress rubbed against her sensitive skin.
    Ella wanted to feel him against her, not the dress. She stumbled over the buttons of his shirt until he finally helped her. She shoved the sides of his dress shirt aside, running her hands over the tight, rock-hard muscles.
    “Oh my,” she whispered. Man was ripped.
    Her dress was a little navy number, with halter straps. The material slid against her as he teased her slowly, caressing her through the dress. He grinned a sensual one-sided grin and said, “The top or the bottom? So many choices with a sexy little dress.”
    His fingers played with the clasp before she felt it give, and shivered as his fingers tickled the nape of her neck. The straps gave way and the dress slid to her waist before he quickly shoved it down her legs. She stepped out of it, glad she’d worn the stupidly high wedge shoes.
    Yoga kept her in shape, she knew, but she also knew with her short stature she was curvy at best, a bit top heavy thanks to a full C cup and a narrow waist that made her hips look wider no matter how many goddess poses she did. Men didn’t always prefer the curvaceous, she’d learned, and . . .
    “What have we here?” he asked, his gaze skimming down her. “My God, you’re perfect,” he whispered, his hands clasping her waist, flaring out over her hips. “A dragonfly?” He traced the wings below her hipbone.
    “I like dragonflies,” she muttered.
    Her bra and matching panties were like many things she owned. Multicolored. This set was swirls of blues, greens and purples.
    He leaned to the side and raised her left arm, and traced the symbols just to the outside of her breast. “And what does this say?”
    She looked at him from under her lashes. “Beauty.”
    A muscle bunched in his jaw. “So many lovely surprises you offer, honey.”
    His fingers trailed along the edge of her bra before dipping inside and deftly unclasping the front clasp.
    “You are beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her jaw again and moving down her neck, even as his fingers played with her breasts, cupping, weighing. “Absolutely beautiful.”
    The man might walk with a limp,