Read Online Nightfire by Lisa Marie Rice - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lisa Marie Rice
Ads: Link
husband and boyfriends.
No, this was the real deal, and she could see why because Nicole was absolutely gorgeous and nice. Tall, slender except for the small bump of pregnancy. Long jet black hair, riveting cobalt blue eyes. And completely natural, without a trace of that complex, instinctive sense of competition beautiful women often had around other women. She’d hugged Chloe with genuine warmth, looked Chloe straight in the eyes without even a thought to her clothes or bag or shoes, and then kept a friendly arm around her friend Ellen’s shoulders as she smiled at Chloe.
The body language could not have been more clear. For both women. Welcome. We are eager to be your friends.
Mike Keillor—he was another story. Not as tall as the men he called his brothers, but seemingly twice as broad. He had the strongest shoulders and arms she’d ever seen on a man. A bodybuilder but without that bodybuilder stiffness and clumsiness. He simply looked . . . strong. Firmly planted on the ground, unstoppable, invincible.
It was a little harder to think of Mike Keillor as a brother.
The hugs of the two men, Sam and Harry—officially now her brothers !—and their wives, had been warm and brief. In the rush of excitement, she could hardly tell who was hugging her. Like plunging into a warm ocean, with lots of waves lapping at her.
But when Mike hugged her, time stopped, somehow. She was instantly aware of everything, all sensations separate and discrete. Each one unusual. Each one exciting.
The feel of him. That was what affected her so much. Harry and Sam were so tall she had to stretch up awkwardly to place her hands on their shoulders, up on tiptoe, brief hug, falling back onto her heels. The hug over almost before it began because hugging someone so tall was awkward.
Mike, now—Mike was the perfect height, taller than she was but not too tall. And the strength of him. Wow. She had never in her life touched someone as strong as he was. Like embracing a man of steel. Superman, only without the leotard. Superman, only shorter, broader, but with—yes—piercing blue eyes and yes, that lick of dark hair over the forehead that just made you want to reach out and brush it back. She’d had to clench her fists not to do just that.
He smelled wonderful, too. Clean, utterly male.
For just a moment, instead of a hug, it had been an embrace. He’d simply rolled her into himself, put his arms around her and held her close.
She’d loved it. That was a huge surprise. She didn’t have to reason it all out, like she did with most of her interactions with people. Should I do this, say this, and if I do this, what then? Is this normal, should I be feeling this, will they look at me oddly when I do that?
Her usual exhausting head games when dealing with people. She had no natural sense for it, had always been bad at it.
Maybe it was all those lonely years in the hospital, or having parents who never interacted with her. Whatever it was, sometimes Chloe thought that everyone in the world except her had been handed an instruction manual at the beginning of their lives and knew what the script was, whereas she was perennially in the dark.
It was better once she was at Sacred Heart and afterwards, at university and out in the work world. But still, it seemed to her that she had no social instincts, only painful lessons learned in harsh schools.
But that moment with Mike—that moment out of time—it had been sheer instinct. They fit together so perfectly. There hadn’t been even a split second of awkwardness. In a second, she was held against him, his arms around her back, his head close to hers.
In that instant, something stilled inside her. Her constant inner monologue stopped dead. She had no thoughts, only feelings, rushing in, overwhelming her.
Strength, heat, safety. Arousal.
Wow.
Mike moved away, and a lucky thing, too, because she was entirely incapable of it. She actually felt bereft when he stepped back. The whole
No, this was the real deal, and she could see why because Nicole was absolutely gorgeous and nice. Tall, slender except for the small bump of pregnancy. Long jet black hair, riveting cobalt blue eyes. And completely natural, without a trace of that complex, instinctive sense of competition beautiful women often had around other women. She’d hugged Chloe with genuine warmth, looked Chloe straight in the eyes without even a thought to her clothes or bag or shoes, and then kept a friendly arm around her friend Ellen’s shoulders as she smiled at Chloe.
The body language could not have been more clear. For both women. Welcome. We are eager to be your friends.
Mike Keillor—he was another story. Not as tall as the men he called his brothers, but seemingly twice as broad. He had the strongest shoulders and arms she’d ever seen on a man. A bodybuilder but without that bodybuilder stiffness and clumsiness. He simply looked . . . strong. Firmly planted on the ground, unstoppable, invincible.
It was a little harder to think of Mike Keillor as a brother.
The hugs of the two men, Sam and Harry—officially now her brothers !—and their wives, had been warm and brief. In the rush of excitement, she could hardly tell who was hugging her. Like plunging into a warm ocean, with lots of waves lapping at her.
But when Mike hugged her, time stopped, somehow. She was instantly aware of everything, all sensations separate and discrete. Each one unusual. Each one exciting.
The feel of him. That was what affected her so much. Harry and Sam were so tall she had to stretch up awkwardly to place her hands on their shoulders, up on tiptoe, brief hug, falling back onto her heels. The hug over almost before it began because hugging someone so tall was awkward.
Mike, now—Mike was the perfect height, taller than she was but not too tall. And the strength of him. Wow. She had never in her life touched someone as strong as he was. Like embracing a man of steel. Superman, only without the leotard. Superman, only shorter, broader, but with—yes—piercing blue eyes and yes, that lick of dark hair over the forehead that just made you want to reach out and brush it back. She’d had to clench her fists not to do just that.
He smelled wonderful, too. Clean, utterly male.
For just a moment, instead of a hug, it had been an embrace. He’d simply rolled her into himself, put his arms around her and held her close.
She’d loved it. That was a huge surprise. She didn’t have to reason it all out, like she did with most of her interactions with people. Should I do this, say this, and if I do this, what then? Is this normal, should I be feeling this, will they look at me oddly when I do that?
Her usual exhausting head games when dealing with people. She had no natural sense for it, had always been bad at it.
Maybe it was all those lonely years in the hospital, or having parents who never interacted with her. Whatever it was, sometimes Chloe thought that everyone in the world except her had been handed an instruction manual at the beginning of their lives and knew what the script was, whereas she was perennially in the dark.
It was better once she was at Sacred Heart and afterwards, at university and out in the work world. But still, it seemed to her that she had no social instincts, only painful lessons learned in harsh schools.
But that moment with Mike—that moment out of time—it had been sheer instinct. They fit together so perfectly. There hadn’t been even a split second of awkwardness. In a second, she was held against him, his arms around her back, his head close to hers.
In that instant, something stilled inside her. Her constant inner monologue stopped dead. She had no thoughts, only feelings, rushing in, overwhelming her.
Strength, heat, safety. Arousal.
Wow.
Mike moved away, and a lucky thing, too, because she was entirely incapable of it. She actually felt bereft when he stepped back. The whole
Similar Books
