Read Online Each Step Like Knives by Megan Hart - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Megan Hart
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him
prisoner while they tried to figure out what, exactly, he was?
She shook her head. If it was crazy to believe the
man sitting in her living room was a merman, then she was crazy.
Something in her gut told her he'd told her the truth. His elegant
gestures had painted a picture in the air for her. She didn't
understand everything he tried to say, just as he didn't get all of
her words either.
So where did that leave her? She had a man in her
house. She didn't know his full name. She didn't understand how
he'd come to her. Yet just the thought of him made her clit and
nipples tingle with renewed desire.
After a quick shower, she found him sitting on the
couch, watching television with the sound off. Maybe with his skill
for sign language he could understand it better that way.
"We need to talk."
He turned his head toward her, then pushed the
remote control to turn off the set.
He learns fast.
He got up from the couch and came toward her. Helena
backed away, just a step, but he took the hint and stopped.
"I need to figure out where you came from."
He pointed out the window again.
"I know from the ocean." She sighed. "I think I need
a bit more proof."
He looked puzzled for a minute, then made a rapid
series of motions with his hands and added a low, almost barking
noise.
She held up her hands. "Stop. Just...listen, can you
write?"
His brow furrowed. She went to the kitchen junk
drawer and handed him a pen and a notepad. "Draw? Write?"
It was hopeless to assume he would be able to write
when he couldn't speak. He took the pen from her and held it up in
front of his eyes. Then he looked at the pad. He shrugged.
"You don't know what a pen is, do you? Or a
notepad?"
He shook his head and looked troubled. More hand
motions, a few she recognized from him doing them before. Helena
sighed again. If she was frustrated, she could only imagine how
annoyed he must be.
She made a scribbling motion with her hand. He
copied it, and made a sound of amazement at the line of ink that
appeared on the paper. His face lit up. He did it again.
"Can you draw a picture of what you looked like
before?"
He moved the pen on the paper some more, but only
scribbles appeared. He bit his lip in concentration, but couldn't
seem to master the art. Helena put her hand on his to stop him.
"It's okay. I can't draw either."
He looked down at her hand on his, then twisted his
palm to link fingers with her. The webbing was softer than she'd
expected. In another moment, he had pulled her into his arms. His
body was warm and firm. She settled against him like they were two
puzzle pieces. She tilted her head to look up at him.
"Johnny, you'll have to forgive me if all of this is
a little difficult to fathom."
He made that gesture she thought meant love again.
Seeing it made her heart pitter patter, and she scolded herself for
being foolish. She had no idea if that's what he meant, and even if
it was, it was ridiculous to think he could actually love her.
They'd just met!
"What am I going to do with you?" she asked aloud,
though the question was meant for herself.
He got a glint in his eye she couldn't mistake. The
front of his borrowed pants expanded. Helena backed away, heart
pounding.
"No!"
Johnny paused, again looking puzzled. He reached for
her hands. She didn't pull away. She couldn't. She should. She just
couldn't.
"I just showered," she whispered as he bent his head
to capture her lips.
He laughed against her mouth and reached up to
stroke her wet hair. His grip settled on her shoulders momentarily
before sweeping down over her back and settling on her butt. He
pulled her closer to him. His erection rose against her belly and
Helena had no problem imagining it inside her.
A lover who couldn't talk. One who could come
multiple times. One who seemed to care solely for her pleasure. How
many women would have begged to
prisoner while they tried to figure out what, exactly, he was?
She shook her head. If it was crazy to believe the
man sitting in her living room was a merman, then she was crazy.
Something in her gut told her he'd told her the truth. His elegant
gestures had painted a picture in the air for her. She didn't
understand everything he tried to say, just as he didn't get all of
her words either.
So where did that leave her? She had a man in her
house. She didn't know his full name. She didn't understand how
he'd come to her. Yet just the thought of him made her clit and
nipples tingle with renewed desire.
After a quick shower, she found him sitting on the
couch, watching television with the sound off. Maybe with his skill
for sign language he could understand it better that way.
"We need to talk."
He turned his head toward her, then pushed the
remote control to turn off the set.
He learns fast.
He got up from the couch and came toward her. Helena
backed away, just a step, but he took the hint and stopped.
"I need to figure out where you came from."
He pointed out the window again.
"I know from the ocean." She sighed. "I think I need
a bit more proof."
He looked puzzled for a minute, then made a rapid
series of motions with his hands and added a low, almost barking
noise.
She held up her hands. "Stop. Just...listen, can you
write?"
His brow furrowed. She went to the kitchen junk
drawer and handed him a pen and a notepad. "Draw? Write?"
It was hopeless to assume he would be able to write
when he couldn't speak. He took the pen from her and held it up in
front of his eyes. Then he looked at the pad. He shrugged.
"You don't know what a pen is, do you? Or a
notepad?"
He shook his head and looked troubled. More hand
motions, a few she recognized from him doing them before. Helena
sighed again. If she was frustrated, she could only imagine how
annoyed he must be.
She made a scribbling motion with her hand. He
copied it, and made a sound of amazement at the line of ink that
appeared on the paper. His face lit up. He did it again.
"Can you draw a picture of what you looked like
before?"
He moved the pen on the paper some more, but only
scribbles appeared. He bit his lip in concentration, but couldn't
seem to master the art. Helena put her hand on his to stop him.
"It's okay. I can't draw either."
He looked down at her hand on his, then twisted his
palm to link fingers with her. The webbing was softer than she'd
expected. In another moment, he had pulled her into his arms. His
body was warm and firm. She settled against him like they were two
puzzle pieces. She tilted her head to look up at him.
"Johnny, you'll have to forgive me if all of this is
a little difficult to fathom."
He made that gesture she thought meant love again.
Seeing it made her heart pitter patter, and she scolded herself for
being foolish. She had no idea if that's what he meant, and even if
it was, it was ridiculous to think he could actually love her.
They'd just met!
"What am I going to do with you?" she asked aloud,
though the question was meant for herself.
He got a glint in his eye she couldn't mistake. The
front of his borrowed pants expanded. Helena backed away, heart
pounding.
"No!"
Johnny paused, again looking puzzled. He reached for
her hands. She didn't pull away. She couldn't. She should. She just
couldn't.
"I just showered," she whispered as he bent his head
to capture her lips.
He laughed against her mouth and reached up to
stroke her wet hair. His grip settled on her shoulders momentarily
before sweeping down over her back and settling on her butt. He
pulled her closer to him. His erection rose against her belly and
Helena had no problem imagining it inside her.
A lover who couldn't talk. One who could come
multiple times. One who seemed to care solely for her pleasure. How
many women would have begged to
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