Read Online Mr. Real (Code of Shadows #1) by Carolyn Crane - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carolyn Crane
Ads: Link
start over?”
A thrill of shock in her eyes. “No!”
She’d obey now. She was dying for him to move down to her very moist target. He could detect every contour of her tense need.
He lowered himself, leaving a trail of little kisses, pausing in front of the swell of her crotch just long enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath.
And then the oven timer went off.
“Crap!” she said. “Crap.” She didn’t move.
He smiled into the lace, then composed himself and stood. “Would that be eggplant parmesan, Ms. Gordon?”
“Yeah, but…” the timer shrilled on.
In one fluid motion, he picked her up and carried her right into the kitchen, a long galley affair of green tiled surfaces and dark wood cupboards with a table at the far end. He set her on the counter, across from the sink and a wide window. He’d always been partial to kitchen counters.
She looked at the oven. “Shouldn’t I…”
“No.” He placed his hands on either side of her thighs. “It’s done, right?”
“Probably.” Her eyes darted to the left. “If you just—”
He put a finger to her lips. “I’m running the show here.” He opened the drawer she’d shown him with her big eyes and extracted a pair of oven mitts. “Let’s see, here.” He donned them and moved to the oven, just down from the sink. The door squeaked when he opened it. He pulled out the pan, set it on a burner, and closed the oven door. He stood over the bubbling cheese, perfectly brown in its raised places, forcing her to wait.
This spy impersonating Alix hated to wait, and hated to be stilled—she always needed to be moving. Constant movement and a lack of seriousness dulled sensation. This was a woman, perhaps, who felt too deeply.
He would still her movement, dampen her humor, and leave her with no resort but to feel. Sir Kendall preferred it when his lovers and his enemies felt too much. The spy impersonating Alix happened to be both at the moment.
“Well, this looks delicious.” He smiled casually at her, placing the pan on top of the stove, and, still with the hot pads on, he went to the window over the sink and opened it, letting the cool night breeze flow in. He had always found the cool night breeze a great aid in the titillation of the female species. He turned back to her, placed himself between her knees, and offered her his mitted hands, raised.
She looked confused. “You want them off?”
“We could proceed with them on, if you’d prefer.”
“Oh.” She pulled them off, and then she simply held them in her hands, staring at them, looking befuddled. “This is just so crazy, that’s all,” she said. “That you’re here, and we’re doing this.” She looked up at him, as if she expected him to agree that it was indeed crazy, that this should stop. Apparently, the spy impersonating Alix had glimpsed the folly of letting him have her so completely.
Well, that wouldn’t do.
“Yes, Alix,” he said with a wicked smile. “It is, isn’t it?”
Interest danced in her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to go that way. He lit his hands gently upon her cheeks, slid them back to cradle the back of her head, and then bent in to capture her mouth, kissing her roughly.
“It’s crazy,” he said into the kiss. He broke off to press soft kisses down her neck. “The very lewd things I aim to do to you. Crazy.” Down, down, down he kissed. “The way I plan to make you feel.” She gasped as he hit the most tender part of her neck.
He slid his hands down her shoulders to her chest. Lightly he dragged his fingernails over the lace that covered her nipples.
A sharp inhale.
She was flowing back into his grip. A bit of a hedonist, this Alix.
He said, “It’s crazy that we’ve only just met each other, and we’re taking our pleasure when others might do some tedious getting-acquainted dance.” He pulled back, looked into her eyes. “What do you really know about me? But of course that’s half the fun, isn’t it? Daring to
A thrill of shock in her eyes. “No!”
She’d obey now. She was dying for him to move down to her very moist target. He could detect every contour of her tense need.
He lowered himself, leaving a trail of little kisses, pausing in front of the swell of her crotch just long enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath.
And then the oven timer went off.
“Crap!” she said. “Crap.” She didn’t move.
He smiled into the lace, then composed himself and stood. “Would that be eggplant parmesan, Ms. Gordon?”
“Yeah, but…” the timer shrilled on.
In one fluid motion, he picked her up and carried her right into the kitchen, a long galley affair of green tiled surfaces and dark wood cupboards with a table at the far end. He set her on the counter, across from the sink and a wide window. He’d always been partial to kitchen counters.
She looked at the oven. “Shouldn’t I…”
“No.” He placed his hands on either side of her thighs. “It’s done, right?”
“Probably.” Her eyes darted to the left. “If you just—”
He put a finger to her lips. “I’m running the show here.” He opened the drawer she’d shown him with her big eyes and extracted a pair of oven mitts. “Let’s see, here.” He donned them and moved to the oven, just down from the sink. The door squeaked when he opened it. He pulled out the pan, set it on a burner, and closed the oven door. He stood over the bubbling cheese, perfectly brown in its raised places, forcing her to wait.
This spy impersonating Alix hated to wait, and hated to be stilled—she always needed to be moving. Constant movement and a lack of seriousness dulled sensation. This was a woman, perhaps, who felt too deeply.
He would still her movement, dampen her humor, and leave her with no resort but to feel. Sir Kendall preferred it when his lovers and his enemies felt too much. The spy impersonating Alix happened to be both at the moment.
“Well, this looks delicious.” He smiled casually at her, placing the pan on top of the stove, and, still with the hot pads on, he went to the window over the sink and opened it, letting the cool night breeze flow in. He had always found the cool night breeze a great aid in the titillation of the female species. He turned back to her, placed himself between her knees, and offered her his mitted hands, raised.
She looked confused. “You want them off?”
“We could proceed with them on, if you’d prefer.”
“Oh.” She pulled them off, and then she simply held them in her hands, staring at them, looking befuddled. “This is just so crazy, that’s all,” she said. “That you’re here, and we’re doing this.” She looked up at him, as if she expected him to agree that it was indeed crazy, that this should stop. Apparently, the spy impersonating Alix had glimpsed the folly of letting him have her so completely.
Well, that wouldn’t do.
“Yes, Alix,” he said with a wicked smile. “It is, isn’t it?”
Interest danced in her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to go that way. He lit his hands gently upon her cheeks, slid them back to cradle the back of her head, and then bent in to capture her mouth, kissing her roughly.
“It’s crazy,” he said into the kiss. He broke off to press soft kisses down her neck. “The very lewd things I aim to do to you. Crazy.” Down, down, down he kissed. “The way I plan to make you feel.” She gasped as he hit the most tender part of her neck.
He slid his hands down her shoulders to her chest. Lightly he dragged his fingernails over the lace that covered her nipples.
A sharp inhale.
She was flowing back into his grip. A bit of a hedonist, this Alix.
He said, “It’s crazy that we’ve only just met each other, and we’re taking our pleasure when others might do some tedious getting-acquainted dance.” He pulled back, looked into her eyes. “What do you really know about me? But of course that’s half the fun, isn’t it? Daring to
Similar Books
