Read Online Kilting Me Softly: 1 by Persephone Jones - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Persephone Jones
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could call it that, a little easier. At least it had until she met Conall McCade.
Tonight she’d come full circle to have justice dangled like a carrot in her face and then cruelly snatched into thin air.
My name is Morgan Keevy and I’ve come to kill you…
Tonight the words had been a dress rehearsal. The time to say it once and for all was yet to come. Morgan considered the circumstances. All points northeast of their current position were isolated. She considered the geography of her location and took a small measure of comfort in the knowledge that unless the monster could swim, she would have him cornered. Where they were, there were few cars, almost no planes and few boats. Best of all, there would be few people crazy enough to interfere. Even fewer to render aid.
She glanced at the slumbering man in bed, the dark shadow his lashes made on his cheek like a weeping willow’s wispy branches. His features were the same as the monster who’d done her so much harm, and yet on his twin were totally different. This man was tender, funny, loving. Everything she could want in a man and more.
But it changed nothing. She would do what she came halfway across the world to do. She would kill her sister’s murderer. If not tonight, tomorrow.
Morgan glanced at the bed. The sexy beast lay on his stomach, the sheet around his waist. Thank God he was facing the opposite direction. Quiet as a mouse, she sneaked into the bathroom and got herself together. Luckily, she’d packed her bags before Conall showed up and scared her half to death. Now all she had to do was make it past the bed and out the door.
She turned the doorknob and held it in the event it might make noise when she let go. Turning it silently back into position, she stepped out of the bathroom without making a sound. One quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Conall remained still and undisturbed, the silhouette of his shape under the covers.
One more door. As she turned the deadbolt, she prayed the light from the hallway wouldn’t wake Conall. If she slipped out quickly enough, she would be home free. She pushed down on the handle and with a slight pull, the door sprang open.
And quickly slammed shut with such force as to cause her to cry out.
There against the wall, hidden in the shadow stood Conall, arm extended away from his body, his hand in the form of a fist. She looked back at the bed and realized he’d put pillows under the sheet and made it look like he was still in bed. A classic trick.
Morgan looked at Conall, his expression one of quiet discontent. It was raining now. Pouring down the windows and casting a watery reflection on his face. Even angry he was breathtaking.
“Conall, I—”
He returned the deadbolt to the locked position without taking his eyes off her. “Turn around.”
“What?”
“I said, turn around.”
God, it wasn’t normal to love the sound of his voice like she did. Especially when he was clearly pissed. But she complied. The weight on her shoulder disappeared as he removed her bags and tossed them aside.
“Put your hands on the wall.”
That sent up a red flag and she moved to protest.
Impatient, he took her by the wrists and placed her hands on the wall above her. “I don’t care if the place is on fire,” he whispered in her ear and moved to the other. “Don’t fucking move.”
Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded in her ears.
“All packed and ready to go, I see.”
“Conall, please—try to understand.”
“I don’t recall asking you a question.”
She set her jaw and bit back her colorful reply.
“You’re dressed for travel. Where’s the slutty skirt?” Conall’s voice seduced from directly behind her, smoothing his hand around the curve of her ass.
“The sweater that outlines your tits?” He ran his hands up and over her breasts, pinching her nipples as he went. Startled by his rough touch, she squeaked a sharp wordless reply.
“Those thigh-high stockings?” His
Tonight she’d come full circle to have justice dangled like a carrot in her face and then cruelly snatched into thin air.
My name is Morgan Keevy and I’ve come to kill you…
Tonight the words had been a dress rehearsal. The time to say it once and for all was yet to come. Morgan considered the circumstances. All points northeast of their current position were isolated. She considered the geography of her location and took a small measure of comfort in the knowledge that unless the monster could swim, she would have him cornered. Where they were, there were few cars, almost no planes and few boats. Best of all, there would be few people crazy enough to interfere. Even fewer to render aid.
She glanced at the slumbering man in bed, the dark shadow his lashes made on his cheek like a weeping willow’s wispy branches. His features were the same as the monster who’d done her so much harm, and yet on his twin were totally different. This man was tender, funny, loving. Everything she could want in a man and more.
But it changed nothing. She would do what she came halfway across the world to do. She would kill her sister’s murderer. If not tonight, tomorrow.
Morgan glanced at the bed. The sexy beast lay on his stomach, the sheet around his waist. Thank God he was facing the opposite direction. Quiet as a mouse, she sneaked into the bathroom and got herself together. Luckily, she’d packed her bags before Conall showed up and scared her half to death. Now all she had to do was make it past the bed and out the door.
She turned the doorknob and held it in the event it might make noise when she let go. Turning it silently back into position, she stepped out of the bathroom without making a sound. One quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Conall remained still and undisturbed, the silhouette of his shape under the covers.
One more door. As she turned the deadbolt, she prayed the light from the hallway wouldn’t wake Conall. If she slipped out quickly enough, she would be home free. She pushed down on the handle and with a slight pull, the door sprang open.
And quickly slammed shut with such force as to cause her to cry out.
There against the wall, hidden in the shadow stood Conall, arm extended away from his body, his hand in the form of a fist. She looked back at the bed and realized he’d put pillows under the sheet and made it look like he was still in bed. A classic trick.
Morgan looked at Conall, his expression one of quiet discontent. It was raining now. Pouring down the windows and casting a watery reflection on his face. Even angry he was breathtaking.
“Conall, I—”
He returned the deadbolt to the locked position without taking his eyes off her. “Turn around.”
“What?”
“I said, turn around.”
God, it wasn’t normal to love the sound of his voice like she did. Especially when he was clearly pissed. But she complied. The weight on her shoulder disappeared as he removed her bags and tossed them aside.
“Put your hands on the wall.”
That sent up a red flag and she moved to protest.
Impatient, he took her by the wrists and placed her hands on the wall above her. “I don’t care if the place is on fire,” he whispered in her ear and moved to the other. “Don’t fucking move.”
Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded in her ears.
“All packed and ready to go, I see.”
“Conall, please—try to understand.”
“I don’t recall asking you a question.”
She set her jaw and bit back her colorful reply.
“You’re dressed for travel. Where’s the slutty skirt?” Conall’s voice seduced from directly behind her, smoothing his hand around the curve of her ass.
“The sweater that outlines your tits?” He ran his hands up and over her breasts, pinching her nipples as he went. Startled by his rough touch, she squeaked a sharp wordless reply.
“Those thigh-high stockings?” His
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