Read Online Satan by Jianne Carlo - Free Book Online Page B

installed right before his last deployment. After his captivity and torture, he developed a hatred of anything enclosed and had never used the spa.
    He had commissioned the hot tub company to create a glass-encased raised hot tub in one corner of the deck. The notion of sitting in the spa in the middle of the winter watching snow falling while he was warm and toasty in the tub appealed. The company had surpassed his specifications, and the result was breathtaking.
    Tucked into one corner of the back porch, the contractor had mounted the spa on a platform five feet above the deck. The added height enhanced the panoramic view of the ocean
    The roof and the three sides were made of hurricane resistant glass threaded with heat elements to melt snow on contact. There were two entrances, one via the cabana bath at the far end of the kitchen, the other through sliding glass doors that opened onto the deck. The only way to gain the glass door entrance was to exit the back door and be exposed to the wilds of Mother Nature.
    So far, he hadn’t been able to stand inside the walled in space for longer than five minutes when both doors were closed. The claustrophobia he’d developed in Afghanistan blossomed into full-blown panic and hysteria after three hundred seconds.
    Once Angel was in his presence, he focused on her almost to the point of oblivion. It was impossible not to. He banked on using his obsessive desire for her to overcome the horrific and paralyzing terror that dogged him since Afghanistan.
    The sky blues of her eyes darkened, and her face glowed. “How wonderful. I’ve only seen snow on mountains in the Alps. I’ve never actually seen it falling. Do you think it’ll stay on the ground? Maybe we could have a snowball fight tomorrow? Or make snow angels?”
    She enchanted him with her total lack of guile and childish glee about snow. He smiled. “Angel making snow angels. How apropos. I was hoping you’d agree to the hot soak. I bought you a bathrobe. It’s in the kitchen. Do you want to unpack first?”
    He shook the carry-on in his hand.
    “Heck no.” She waved at the suitcase. “I can do that later. Just put that anywhere.”
    Satan scooped Angel into his embrace, reached for the carry-on, and marched to the kitchen. She felt so perfect in his arms. He’d missed her, which surprised the crap right out of him.
    “I’m sorry that I’m so late. You sounded a tich peeved on the phone.” She tangled her fingers in his curls.
    “I was. A tich.”
    She beamed at him. “A tich, huh?”
    “The meeting went well?” He trapped her gaze with his.
    She blinked and avoided his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it. Monkey sex and fun, remember?”
    He waggled his eyebrows. “As if I could forget.”
    “I love your kitchen. It’s so cozy and lived in.” She scanned the room. “And the view by the table. I can just imagine watching the sun rise over the horizon.”
    “Won’t have to. We’ll watch it together tomorrow morning.” He dumped the suitcase next to a chair, slid her down him, cupped her butt, and kissed her until they both had to come up for air.
    “God, I love kissing you. You are a master kisser, Lorcan McGuillycuddy aka Satan. Maybe one needs a certain amount of devilish wickedness to be a champion kisser.” She wore such an impish expression that he couldn’t help but grin back at her.
    “I’m of the opinion that a kiss is only as good as the people doing the kissing. And by the way, right back atcha. Hmmm. Another to-do just went on my list.”
    “Oh no. You’re not torturing me by withholding information. I demand to hear the entire contents of your to-do list.” She poked him in the chest.
    “I’m more than happy to do exactly that.” Satan pointed at the freshly laundered bathrobe draped over the back of a chair. “There. Slip into that while I get the antipasti and the wine.”
    “Antipasti? Yum. Big fat green olives included, I hope.” She shed her shoes, pulled off her