Read Online Shattered Heart by Carol May - Free Book Online

home, after nine pm. I am shocked that you are not familiar with that rule.”
    “Nope, afraid not. Here’s the catch to that rule, I’m not at home.” Smiling, “So according to your rule, I should be addressed as Ms.”
    Seeing the folly in his made-up rule, he went on “As I agree you aren’t but I am. No Mr. or Ms.”
    The second part of the rule addresses what? Pray tell me kind sir.”
    “I’ve forgot the actual wording but it does require that both conversation participants be in comfortable, relaxed clothing.” He says as he takes a step narrowing the small space already between us.
    “Well, since I don’t have anything except the clothes on my back (as my Gran would say) you might as well call the comfortable attire police. They’ll have to cuff me and take me away.”
    With a mischievous smile, Houston leans into me, raises my hands above my head and holds them there while he grazes my lips with a kiss. Pulling back enough to lean his head in to whisper in my ear, “Cuff you? Sounds interesting, Charli, very interesting.” Nibbling on my ear with just enough pressure for me to barley feel his teeth he questions at just above a whisper, “Do you like handcuffs, Ms. Jensen?”
    He asks as his hands hold me in that position just long enough to make me want more than the subtle kisses I was getting. Pushing my body to meet his, I could feel how hard he was becoming. The amount of heat building in my core is causing my city girl attitude to step up. I wouldn’t object if he rammed himself into me as deep as possible this very moment.
    Breaking away from me with a smile that tells me, he knows exactly what he is doing to me, a moan escapes my lips. Continuing with what I thought was a tour, we stop just outside a door, where Houston gestures for me, “Come with me.”
    As we enter a bedroom that has a view which mirrors what I saw downstairs, Houston simply says, “The master bedroom.”
    Both my mid-west and city girls are speechless. I open my mouth but before I could make any comment, he touches my lips with his index finger.
    “Not a word. When I take you on this bed it won’t be because I have tricked you into this room. Make no mistake about that.”
    Jokingly, I press my lips together and wrinkle my brow as if I was trying really hard to not speak. He leads me into a closet that is about the size of my entire apartment. This room, because it is more than a closet, has all of his clothes hanging organized in a boutique style.
    I stand taking it all in, “I thought I was fanatical about my clothes but you certainly have me beat.”             
    Laughing all he said was, “I just like organization.” Then he shrugged his shoulders adding, “I move between my homes often. You have no idea how helpful it is for my clothes to be in a particular order.”
    Turning 360° to absorb it all, “So let me get this straight, you have a closet like this in all your homes?”
    Walking over to a leather covered bench he sits down, “No, not exactly like this but very similar. Some of the wood is different. I don’t know what else but the layout is the same. My clothes are all arranged in the same order.” I have heard of men like you.”
    “What kind of man would that be? I thought there was only one of me.”
    “A clothes horse. That’s what kind.” Looking around, I say, “A very organized clothes horse.”
    “A clothes horse?”  Nodding his head, he continues. “I’ve been called worse. Much worse.”
    “See that remote?”
    “Yes, Oh my God you have a remote in your closet. Men and their remotes.”
    “Yes, we do love our remotes. Push twelve.”
    I do as I am instructed. To the left, under his row of hanging t-shirts, a drawer opens. I look from the drawer to him and all I can say is, “You’ve got to be kidding me?”
    I move over to it. In front of me are rows of neatly folded sweatpants in a vast array of colors. As I run my fingers over them, I tilt my head, just a