Read Online In Control by Michelle Robbins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michelle Robbins
Tags: Erótica
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decision. Think about who will pay the price of you taking care of this through the door."
The hair on the nape of her neck shivered. He meant JoBeth. Her neighbors would probably enjoy, while at the same time condemn the drama in the hallway, especially when one of the primary players wasn't a resident. She might get JoBeth evicted. Some guest she was.
She worked the deadbolt, unsurprised by the trembling of her fingers.
Not in obedience to Seth, but out of concern for JoBeth. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that, when all else fails, fall back on bravado. She wouldn't show fear, not to these jackasses. Never again.
Annabel wrenched open the door and took up a position in the doorway, blocking their entrance. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Zach. Seth, she ignored.
"Fine," she snapped. "Inside. But don't you dare touch me. You do, and I'll scream down the walls and to hell with the neighbors."
"I understand."
"You"--she retargeted her glare--"are not welc--" She broke off when she realized she was speaking to Seth's back. He was already on his way to the exit.
"Gonna let me in?"
Zach's comment returned her attention to him. He stood in front of her, his eyebrows raised in a half-amused inquiry, and his hands fitted to his jeans-clad hips. Behind him, across the hallway, a shadow moved on the floor, briefly eclipsing the band of light between the carpet and the bottom of the door. Half-heard whispers and giggles filled the silence between her and Zach.
Her audience seemed to find the drama vastly entertaining.
Her cheeks heated, and she knew she'd blushed.
She stepped aside.
* * * *
Zach walked inside and made a quick recon. Old habits died hard.
Evidence of her emergency residence change filled the room. A nest of blankets and pillows packed the not-new-but-still-nice couch. Clothing and belongings filled boxes stacked in the corners. Remnants of microwave meals, as well as dirty dishes, sat at various points on the coffee table. A thirteen-inch TV sat on a long chest of drawers and displayed a Saturday evening comedy. Canned laughter filled the room. Fluorescent lights glowed in the kitchen. A darkened doorway filled the far wall, which probably lead to the bedroom.
Used tissues littered the floor next to a knee-high trash container stuffed with more of the same. Unless she'd caught a cold overnight, she'd been crying. A lot. Damn it!
The door behind him closed with a meaningful thump. He turned and found her leaning against it, her arms re-crossed beneath her tits and a combative expression on her face. A large heart pounded in Annabel, he reflected. No coward, that one. He'd trust his back to her on the battlefield, except at this moment, since she looked ready to stick a serrated Ka-Bar between his shoulder blades.
"Say what you have to say and leave," she commanded.
He hid a smile. She was an adorable spitting kitten, nothing but bravado, puffed up hair, and tiny, tiny claws. The lightweight summer nightgown she wore sported small, embroidered pink flowers against yellow fabric. There was nothing remotely sexual about it. Neither was the dingy, grayish ankle socks on her feet, or the tumbled knots of her inky hair. His dick twitched its interest anyway.
He never did do things the easy way.
Zach lowered himself onto the nearest reading chair beside the couch. "This will take a few minutes."
She dropped into her nest and drew the blankets over her legs. His missing T-shirt tumbled to the floor. He said nothing about it. His heart gave a few excited thumps. Its presence gave him hope, even as she grabbed the remote and flipped channels, appearing supremely bored with the situation.
"I'm not offering you a drink or any snacks, so you might as well get to it."
He felt the corners of his mouth twitch. All she needed was a yawn to pull off the ploy. Unfortunately for her, the throbbing of the pulse in her neck was visible and pounded at an elevated tempo. Nervous.
He knew
The hair on the nape of her neck shivered. He meant JoBeth. Her neighbors would probably enjoy, while at the same time condemn the drama in the hallway, especially when one of the primary players wasn't a resident. She might get JoBeth evicted. Some guest she was.
She worked the deadbolt, unsurprised by the trembling of her fingers.
Not in obedience to Seth, but out of concern for JoBeth. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that, when all else fails, fall back on bravado. She wouldn't show fear, not to these jackasses. Never again.
Annabel wrenched open the door and took up a position in the doorway, blocking their entrance. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Zach. Seth, she ignored.
"Fine," she snapped. "Inside. But don't you dare touch me. You do, and I'll scream down the walls and to hell with the neighbors."
"I understand."
"You"--she retargeted her glare--"are not welc--" She broke off when she realized she was speaking to Seth's back. He was already on his way to the exit.
"Gonna let me in?"
Zach's comment returned her attention to him. He stood in front of her, his eyebrows raised in a half-amused inquiry, and his hands fitted to his jeans-clad hips. Behind him, across the hallway, a shadow moved on the floor, briefly eclipsing the band of light between the carpet and the bottom of the door. Half-heard whispers and giggles filled the silence between her and Zach.
Her audience seemed to find the drama vastly entertaining.
Her cheeks heated, and she knew she'd blushed.
She stepped aside.
* * * *
Zach walked inside and made a quick recon. Old habits died hard.
Evidence of her emergency residence change filled the room. A nest of blankets and pillows packed the not-new-but-still-nice couch. Clothing and belongings filled boxes stacked in the corners. Remnants of microwave meals, as well as dirty dishes, sat at various points on the coffee table. A thirteen-inch TV sat on a long chest of drawers and displayed a Saturday evening comedy. Canned laughter filled the room. Fluorescent lights glowed in the kitchen. A darkened doorway filled the far wall, which probably lead to the bedroom.
Used tissues littered the floor next to a knee-high trash container stuffed with more of the same. Unless she'd caught a cold overnight, she'd been crying. A lot. Damn it!
The door behind him closed with a meaningful thump. He turned and found her leaning against it, her arms re-crossed beneath her tits and a combative expression on her face. A large heart pounded in Annabel, he reflected. No coward, that one. He'd trust his back to her on the battlefield, except at this moment, since she looked ready to stick a serrated Ka-Bar between his shoulder blades.
"Say what you have to say and leave," she commanded.
He hid a smile. She was an adorable spitting kitten, nothing but bravado, puffed up hair, and tiny, tiny claws. The lightweight summer nightgown she wore sported small, embroidered pink flowers against yellow fabric. There was nothing remotely sexual about it. Neither was the dingy, grayish ankle socks on her feet, or the tumbled knots of her inky hair. His dick twitched its interest anyway.
He never did do things the easy way.
Zach lowered himself onto the nearest reading chair beside the couch. "This will take a few minutes."
She dropped into her nest and drew the blankets over her legs. His missing T-shirt tumbled to the floor. He said nothing about it. His heart gave a few excited thumps. Its presence gave him hope, even as she grabbed the remote and flipped channels, appearing supremely bored with the situation.
"I'm not offering you a drink or any snacks, so you might as well get to it."
He felt the corners of his mouth twitch. All she needed was a yawn to pull off the ploy. Unfortunately for her, the throbbing of the pulse in her neck was visible and pounded at an elevated tempo. Nervous.
He knew
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