Read Online Stolen Fury by Elisabeth Naughton - Free Book Online
Authors: Elisabeth Naughton
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thing. I’ll do it later.”
A grin brightened her face, and she straightened. “Thank you.” Her gaze flicked in Lisa’s direction. “Hello, deary. I see you found him.”
He looked toward Lisa. Found him? She’d already been here?
Lisa’s eyes widened. Her lips parted as if she were going to respond. Hell, he didn’t need her opening her big mouth out here on the street. After that little show she’d put on at the marina, he could only imagine what would come pouring out.
He ushered her up the porch steps before she could toss off some flip answer. “I’ll come over later, Mrs. Kimbel.”
“Oh. Okay, Rafael. You are such a sweet boy.”
As he unlocked the door, he heard Lisa harrumph behind him. Her opinion of him didn’t matter in the least, so why did he have this overwhelming urge to defend himself?
He pushed aside the ludicrous thought, pulled the screen open and waited while Lisa stepped inside. She flicked an irritated look his direction before moving into the entry of the house.
Cool air washed over him when he followed, and he closed the door, blocking out the heat and humidity. Lisa ran a hand over her sweaty brow. For a moment, the aggravation dissipated, and she closed her eyes, tipped her face up toward the ceiling fan and drew in a long breath. “How the hell do people live in this heat?” she mumbled.
A sucker punch hit him low in the gut—the memory of her writhing beneath him on that great big bed, offering him her throat just like that in that faraway hotel room. With her face flushed, eyes closed and chin tipped up, she’d begged him to take her.
Hurry, Rafe.
Carajo. He ran a hand over his face. He needed to get a grip. A golden opportunity had dropped right into his lap when she’d shown up. Common sense told him if he were going to find Tisiphone, he’d need to string Lisa Maxwell along a while longer.
And not in a sexual way. Although he could think of a thousand different ways he’d like to string her up. By her arms, naked and wet, moaning while he licked every part of her. By her feet, to the end of his bed, spread wide and waiting while he drove her to the edge again and again.
Holy hell. This was going to kill him.
He cleared his throat and stepped around her toward the living room. “In here.”
His mouth dropped open when he walked into the main room. The wicker couch was tipped over, cushions slashed, the stuffing strewn across the floor. The coffee table was a pile of smashed glass, lamps nearby broken and lying on their sides. A glass cabinet to his left sat open, his sports memorabilia shattered, pieces missing.
“¡Me cago en nada!” Wide-eyed, he turned a small circle, taking in the damage.
Lisa skirted a broken ceramic bowl on the floor and a smattering of seashells thrown across the carpet. “Let me guess. Maid’s day off?”
A hot rush of blood pumped through him, dousing whateveridiotic arousal he’d felt before. He whipped toward her and fought the urge to pick her up and hurl her across the room. “Find what you were looking for?”
Her eyes grew wide. “You think I did this?”
“Who else would break in and trash the place?”
“I don’t know. How many other women did you hustle this week?”
“Obviously one too many.” He shook his head and tried to rein in his temper before he lost it for good. “You think you’re getting her back now?”
Fury flashed in her eyes. “You really are delusional if you think I did this. Why on earth would I bother coming back here with you if I’d already trashed your pathetic little house?”
“Because you didn’t find it. And because you wanted to gloat.”
She let out a smug laugh. “I don’t need to gloat, Slick.” She crossed her arms and cocked her head. “But since you brought it up, tell me. How does it feel, being duped?”
Anger coiled in his stomach. He took a step toward her.
A rap at the door made him stop short.
“Sullivan? You in there?”
His gaze darted to the
A grin brightened her face, and she straightened. “Thank you.” Her gaze flicked in Lisa’s direction. “Hello, deary. I see you found him.”
He looked toward Lisa. Found him? She’d already been here?
Lisa’s eyes widened. Her lips parted as if she were going to respond. Hell, he didn’t need her opening her big mouth out here on the street. After that little show she’d put on at the marina, he could only imagine what would come pouring out.
He ushered her up the porch steps before she could toss off some flip answer. “I’ll come over later, Mrs. Kimbel.”
“Oh. Okay, Rafael. You are such a sweet boy.”
As he unlocked the door, he heard Lisa harrumph behind him. Her opinion of him didn’t matter in the least, so why did he have this overwhelming urge to defend himself?
He pushed aside the ludicrous thought, pulled the screen open and waited while Lisa stepped inside. She flicked an irritated look his direction before moving into the entry of the house.
Cool air washed over him when he followed, and he closed the door, blocking out the heat and humidity. Lisa ran a hand over her sweaty brow. For a moment, the aggravation dissipated, and she closed her eyes, tipped her face up toward the ceiling fan and drew in a long breath. “How the hell do people live in this heat?” she mumbled.
A sucker punch hit him low in the gut—the memory of her writhing beneath him on that great big bed, offering him her throat just like that in that faraway hotel room. With her face flushed, eyes closed and chin tipped up, she’d begged him to take her.
Hurry, Rafe.
Carajo. He ran a hand over his face. He needed to get a grip. A golden opportunity had dropped right into his lap when she’d shown up. Common sense told him if he were going to find Tisiphone, he’d need to string Lisa Maxwell along a while longer.
And not in a sexual way. Although he could think of a thousand different ways he’d like to string her up. By her arms, naked and wet, moaning while he licked every part of her. By her feet, to the end of his bed, spread wide and waiting while he drove her to the edge again and again.
Holy hell. This was going to kill him.
He cleared his throat and stepped around her toward the living room. “In here.”
His mouth dropped open when he walked into the main room. The wicker couch was tipped over, cushions slashed, the stuffing strewn across the floor. The coffee table was a pile of smashed glass, lamps nearby broken and lying on their sides. A glass cabinet to his left sat open, his sports memorabilia shattered, pieces missing.
“¡Me cago en nada!” Wide-eyed, he turned a small circle, taking in the damage.
Lisa skirted a broken ceramic bowl on the floor and a smattering of seashells thrown across the carpet. “Let me guess. Maid’s day off?”
A hot rush of blood pumped through him, dousing whateveridiotic arousal he’d felt before. He whipped toward her and fought the urge to pick her up and hurl her across the room. “Find what you were looking for?”
Her eyes grew wide. “You think I did this?”
“Who else would break in and trash the place?”
“I don’t know. How many other women did you hustle this week?”
“Obviously one too many.” He shook his head and tried to rein in his temper before he lost it for good. “You think you’re getting her back now?”
Fury flashed in her eyes. “You really are delusional if you think I did this. Why on earth would I bother coming back here with you if I’d already trashed your pathetic little house?”
“Because you didn’t find it. And because you wanted to gloat.”
She let out a smug laugh. “I don’t need to gloat, Slick.” She crossed her arms and cocked her head. “But since you brought it up, tell me. How does it feel, being duped?”
Anger coiled in his stomach. He took a step toward her.
A rap at the door made him stop short.
“Sullivan? You in there?”
His gaze darted to the
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