Read Online Shattered Virtue by Magda Alexander - Free Book Online Page B

she does, I cram the Bible against the window latch, hoping it will hold. God knows it’s big enough. I let go, and the wind rattles, but the window stays fastened. At least for now.
    Hands on my hips, I glare at the couch. Even in the gloom, it gleams wet. Fuck.
    “The sofa’s drenched. You can’t sleep there.”
    I point toward the only other reasonable choice in the room. “I’ll take the stuffed chair.”
    She hesitates barely a second before offering, “We can share the bed.”
    My gaze darts to her as a flash of lightning illuminates her face. She’s serious. “Bad idea. Really bad idea.”
    “Mr. Steele. We’re caught in a very unfortunate situation. Circumstances being what they are, we’ll need to make allowances.”
    “Congratulations, Ms. Berkeley. Spoken just like a future lawyer.” Trying to make a point, I lean in her direction. “Unfortunately, you’re not seeing the reality of the circumstances.”
    “Which are?”
    Does she really need me to spell things out for her? “We’re two reasonably good-looking people who are attracted to each other. Given the close proximity of our bodies in that bed, things might . . . get out of hand.”
    She huffs. “No, they won’t. Surely we can control ourselves.”
    “Sure of that, are you?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “I’m not.”
    “Are you telling me that you can’t restrict your . . . urges?” The outrage in her voice is all too apparent.
    “Oh, I’m reasonably sure about mine. It’s yours I’m concerned about. I saw the way you ogled me. Felt the way you pressed against me.”
    “I did not press against you!”
    Before I have a chance to debate that point, the window jolts. I step out of the way before the damn thing bursts open to drench me again.
    She pulls back the blanket. A clear invitation if I’ve ever seen one. “Come.”
    I tangle my hand through my wet hair while I weigh my options. My watch tells me it’s after midnight, and I really must get some sleep if I’m to drive to DC tomorrow in that sorry excuse of a car. “Fine.”
    I crawl into the bed to find she’s lodged one of her pillows in the center of the mattress, separating the two sides. Like that would keep me from her. My slacks are clammy against my skin. I pull them off, toss them to the side. “Good night.” Turning away, I pray for sleep.
    A half hour later, we’re right back where we were before. Awake and cold. I turn to her. “Your teeth are chattering so hard I can’t fall asleep. Come here.”
    “N-no. I’m o-okay.”
    “Sure you are.” Carefully keeping the pillow against my naked groin, I pull her to me. “Relax. I’m not going to do anything.” Other than grit my teeth and pray for dawn.
    “Th-thank you.” She rolls into me and moans. Her body, the noises she’s making, the scent of her have the inevitable effect. Somehow the pillow shifted when she rolled into me, and my body’s flushed against hers, providing ample proof of my virility.
    “You’re—”
    “Hard. Yes, Ms. Berkeley, I am. Don’t think anything of it,” I say in my most reasonable voice. “It’s only my body reacting to yours. What is that scent you’re wearing?”
    “L’Amour.”
    Did she have to fucking bathe in it? “Glad it came in handy today.”
    “What about you?”
    “What about me?”
    “Your scent. You smell of fresh pine.”
    “Motel soap.” That turns her on? I choke back a curse. I have to stop this torture. Not sure how much I can take. “You warm enough now?”
    “No. My feet are frozen.”
    Fuckin’ great. I run my hands down her legs to her feet. Sure enough, they’re two blocks of ice. “Bend your knees.” When she does, I tuck her feet between my thighs.
    “That feels sooooo good. Thank you.”
    She lets out this breathy moan that makes me harder. And I’ve just about reached the end of my rope. “Are you always this polite?”
    For a second there’s silence, as if she’s thinking over her answer. “I’ve been raised to say