Read Online StoneHardPassion by Anya Richards - Free Book Online Page B

the midst of the small room,
hardly daring to move from where he was standing in case he knocked something
over. Inching almost sideways, he moved to the entrance of the galley kitchen,
sticking his head in for a peek. He liked how clean and tidy it was, and even
the hint of something savory and spicy lingering in the air was pleasant. There
was a pass-through between the kitchen and dining room and, on the counter were
an aloe vera plant, a pile of what appeared to be tattoo patterns and a small,
ornate gold box. Beautifully crafted, decorated with a crest surrounded by
scrolled patterns of flowering vines and leaves, it could only be jinn, from
one of their renowned metal works.
    The sound of running water came to him and, as though being
pulled by an inexorable rope, he slowly crossed the little dining room to the
half-closed bedroom door. Pushing it open, he hesitated on the threshold, his
heart racing as Jasmina’s distinctive sweet, musky perfume enveloped him. On
one hand going in seemed an intrusion. On the other, he couldn’t resist seeing
her personal space, and his body tightened almost painfully as he took in the
large platform bed with its silk coverlet and hangings. It was too easy to
picture her spread out naked on the creamy bedding, her skin glowing golden,
eyes gleaming in invitation.
    Vidar knew he should back out, close the door, but he took a
step farther instead. There was a tote on the trunk at the foot of the bed,
something red, sheer and feminine spilling out, and he couldn’t help running it
through his fingers. A shuddering shock of lust fired up his spine as it slid
against his skin. A glance inside the bag showed nothing but a dark, misty
space, and he realized it must be enchanted to hold as much as she wanted.
    Moving to the side of the bed, he touched the quilt, then
carefully picked up a long, black hair from the pillow. He’d never seen her
with her hair down, but he’d dreamed so many times of what it would feel like
swishing over his body. Letting the strand flutter from his fingers, he pushed
at his erection with his palm, trying to find a more comfortable position for
his engorged flesh. It didn’t work and, overwhelmed, he knew he had to get out
of there.
    As he was about to turn a gleam caught his eye and he
paused, bending to peer toward the head of the bed. Something caught and
reflected light from the lamp on the low table and Vidar reached under the
pillow to pull the object out. It took a moment before he recognized what it
was.
    Oh Freyja.
    Staring at the glass phallus, heart pounding, hardly able to
catch a breath, Vidar turned it from side to side, his shocked mind taking in
the lifelike sculpting. He’d read about such things, even seen pictures in books,
but never thought of them as anything but a curiosity. Now, finding one in
Jasmina’s bedroom, he realized it was a raw, powerful turn-on. He wanted to use
it on her, watch the pink glass penetrate her, see what it looked like as her
body took its length.
    A drop of sweat trickled into his eye, stinging him back to
reality, just as the shower was turned off. Panic tried to rear its head, but
he wouldn’t let it engulf him. For too long he’d allowed fear to rule his life.
If he truly wanted Jasmina, he had to become more than he’d ever been before.
    Yet he also wasn’t keen on the thought of her catching him
snooping either, so he moved toward the door, pausing when he realized he still
held the glass phallus in his hand. On impulse, he dropped it into the open
tote before silently going back out into the living area, pulling the door back
to its previous position as he went. Pausing outside the door, he lifted the
tail of his shirt to wipe his face. Dear Freyja, he was a mess. Inside his
blood flowed like lava and his muscles were almost locked with tension. Closing
his eyes for a moment, he took several deep breaths, willed his heart rate to
slow. There was nothing to be done about his erection. It was a