Read Online Friends to Lovers by Christi Barth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christi Barth
Ads: Link
much. Oh, and if by some miracle they actually work, I want to know that, too.”
A loud hammering on the front door signaled Gib’s arrival. Daphne had left the door unlocked for him (as usual), and he hollered a hello (as usual). So far, a whopping five seconds in, everything was going great. “You and Sam have fun tonight.” She gave Mira a one-armed hug as they wandered down the hall.
“Oh, we will. We’re doing our own food sampling tonight. A white-chocolate and raspberry truffle for Valentine’s Day, and a chocolate cherry bread pudding for the bakery.”
“Want to trade?”
“Nope. My tasting comes with the one thing you’ll be lacking—a serious serving of sex on the side.”
“Wow. Does Sam know he’s marrying a woman with such a sadistic streak?” Daphne teased as she opened the door. And then she froze, watching Mira give Gib a peck on the cheek and hurry down the stairs. Mira leaving hammered home that she was about to spend the entire night with the man with movie-star good looks hanging his overcoat in the closet. Just the two of them. In that moment, Daphne realized that she’d done more than merely kiss Gib on New Year’s Eve. She’d opened a veritable Pandora’s box of emotions and longing. No force in the universe could tamp them back down. While she might talk a good game about keeping their friendship unchanged, it simply wouldn’t work.
“You ready to get sexed up?” Gib growled in her ear as he grabbed her from behind. Both arms around her waist, he rocked her sideways playfully. Daphne barely felt the motion.
She did feel the spread of his chest across her back, the way his lips brushed the crook of her neck. How his strong legs anchored on either side of hers, and how if she let herself droop, just a little, his fingers splayed across her midsection just might brush the bottom of her right breast. Oh, she was ready all right. Good thing the oversize shirt hid how blatantly her nipples had sprung to attention, craving his attention.
“I’m game if you are,” Daphne said, in a rush.
“Then we’d better get a move on. Snow’s starting to fall. I’m sure you don’t want me snowed in with you once this dinner gets me all worked up.” With one quick shake, he released her. From the sharp clip of his Italian loafers against the hardwood, Daphne could tell he’d headed into the dining room. Good thing he hadn’t stuck around. The image of being snowbound with an aroused Gib melted her knees to the consistency of slush. Daphne grabbed the end table for support.
Ivy constantly begged her to come along to yoga class, and Daphne caved about once a month. Felt like a whole lot of standing around instead of exercise. If she wanted to stretch for an hour, she’d rather do it in front of a game on her plasma tv. The one thing she did like, though, was the nifty breathing technique hammered into her in the first class. When clients were stressful, or her weekly flower order arrived with ranunculus instead of roses, she’d push aside the stress with deep breathing.
Unless a space pod full of slimy green aliens carrying ray guns materialized in her living room, she couldn’t imagine a more stressful situation than ignoring her body’s response to Gib. So Daphne slumped even lower and began the cycle. First, a deep, four-second breath in, then hold for seven seconds. But before she could release it, a sharp, masculine bark of laughter echoed down the hall.
God, was he laughing at her? Had he seen her wobble? Humiliation hardened her knees and back until she was as straight as the Sears Tower. Turning around, she hurried the few steps into the dining room to brave whatever ridicule Gib heaped upon her.
“Holy crap.”
Gib laughed once more. “I agree. Our Mira really pulled out all the stops.”
A row of votive candles flickered down the center of the dining table. Two multiarmed candelabras on the buffet reflected twice their light off of the mirror framed in white,
A loud hammering on the front door signaled Gib’s arrival. Daphne had left the door unlocked for him (as usual), and he hollered a hello (as usual). So far, a whopping five seconds in, everything was going great. “You and Sam have fun tonight.” She gave Mira a one-armed hug as they wandered down the hall.
“Oh, we will. We’re doing our own food sampling tonight. A white-chocolate and raspberry truffle for Valentine’s Day, and a chocolate cherry bread pudding for the bakery.”
“Want to trade?”
“Nope. My tasting comes with the one thing you’ll be lacking—a serious serving of sex on the side.”
“Wow. Does Sam know he’s marrying a woman with such a sadistic streak?” Daphne teased as she opened the door. And then she froze, watching Mira give Gib a peck on the cheek and hurry down the stairs. Mira leaving hammered home that she was about to spend the entire night with the man with movie-star good looks hanging his overcoat in the closet. Just the two of them. In that moment, Daphne realized that she’d done more than merely kiss Gib on New Year’s Eve. She’d opened a veritable Pandora’s box of emotions and longing. No force in the universe could tamp them back down. While she might talk a good game about keeping their friendship unchanged, it simply wouldn’t work.
“You ready to get sexed up?” Gib growled in her ear as he grabbed her from behind. Both arms around her waist, he rocked her sideways playfully. Daphne barely felt the motion.
She did feel the spread of his chest across her back, the way his lips brushed the crook of her neck. How his strong legs anchored on either side of hers, and how if she let herself droop, just a little, his fingers splayed across her midsection just might brush the bottom of her right breast. Oh, she was ready all right. Good thing the oversize shirt hid how blatantly her nipples had sprung to attention, craving his attention.
“I’m game if you are,” Daphne said, in a rush.
“Then we’d better get a move on. Snow’s starting to fall. I’m sure you don’t want me snowed in with you once this dinner gets me all worked up.” With one quick shake, he released her. From the sharp clip of his Italian loafers against the hardwood, Daphne could tell he’d headed into the dining room. Good thing he hadn’t stuck around. The image of being snowbound with an aroused Gib melted her knees to the consistency of slush. Daphne grabbed the end table for support.
Ivy constantly begged her to come along to yoga class, and Daphne caved about once a month. Felt like a whole lot of standing around instead of exercise. If she wanted to stretch for an hour, she’d rather do it in front of a game on her plasma tv. The one thing she did like, though, was the nifty breathing technique hammered into her in the first class. When clients were stressful, or her weekly flower order arrived with ranunculus instead of roses, she’d push aside the stress with deep breathing.
Unless a space pod full of slimy green aliens carrying ray guns materialized in her living room, she couldn’t imagine a more stressful situation than ignoring her body’s response to Gib. So Daphne slumped even lower and began the cycle. First, a deep, four-second breath in, then hold for seven seconds. But before she could release it, a sharp, masculine bark of laughter echoed down the hall.
God, was he laughing at her? Had he seen her wobble? Humiliation hardened her knees and back until she was as straight as the Sears Tower. Turning around, she hurried the few steps into the dining room to brave whatever ridicule Gib heaped upon her.
“Holy crap.”
Gib laughed once more. “I agree. Our Mira really pulled out all the stops.”
A row of votive candles flickered down the center of the dining table. Two multiarmed candelabras on the buffet reflected twice their light off of the mirror framed in white,
Similar Books
