Read Online The Billionaire's Con by Mackenzie Crowne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mackenzie Crowne
Tags: Contemporary
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grapes, she was helpless to prevent him from crooking a finger under the edge of the quilt.
With a tug, he exposed her breasts to his fervent gaze. “A new favorite pastime of mine.”
She met his grin with one of her own. Sipping at the glass of chilled, sweet wine, she considered him. “Any pastime involving food seems to be a favorite of yours.”
“Pretty much.” He pulled items from the basket. “But in this case, it’s not just my naturally quick metabolism at work.” He looked up from the basket and winked. “A man needs to keep up his strength when he has a sexy fairy in his bed.”
She plucked a fat grape from the bunch and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Aw, poor baby. Do you need me to whip up a virility potion?”
He glanced down at his lap. “Nope. Doesn’t look like that will be necessary.” The heat of a blush spread across her cheekbones, and he laughed. “Dig in, fairy girl. I’m not the only one who will need to keep up their strength tonight.”
Grinning despite the blush, she reached in the basket and pulled out a yellow box. Her brows snapped together. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He looked confused. “What? You don’t like cheese?”
“That”—she set the box aside to dig in the basket again—”is not cheese. That’s a processed, orange lump of...something. But it’s not cheese.”
He grabbed the box and plucked off the top, peeling back the inner foil to squeeze off a chunk of orange lump. It and the cracker in his hand went into his mouth, and he spoke around the bite. “Leave it to a chef to be a food snob.”
Insulted, she paused in the act of opening a jar of pickles to stare at him. “I’m not a food snob. I just don’t consider that food.”
He snagged a pickle out of the jar in her hands, using it to point at the offending box. “That shit makes the best grilled-cheese sandwiches. In my college years, I lived on that, bread, and beer.”
“In my college years, I lived on perfectly prepared French cuisine.” Nose in the air, she grinned smugly.
He shoved the rest of his pickle into her mouth. “Like I said, food snob.”
They shared the wine, nibbling on the food he’d gathered, and each other, until the combined result of the many caresses and kisses had him shoving aside the basket and its contents for more tempting fare. When she slipped into sleep sometime later, surrounded by his warmth, her last thought was that she’d never look at a picnic the same way again.
****
Trevor smiled at her murmured sigh as her breathing slowed and evened out. He tucked her more tightly to his side. Though he was tired, his muscles pleasantly wrecked and completely sated from his recent orgasms, his mind was too troubled to allow him to sleep.
He wasn’t a man who suffered from indecision. Blessed with the drive to take on the problems of life without hesitation and the intelligence to solve them, he hadn’t had a lot of experience with the phenomenon. But the entire situation surrounding Meggy had demolished his usual instincts.
He couldn’t have made a bigger mess of things if he’d tried. Whatever Meggy had been doing at the farm, he was ninety-nine percent sure it hadn’t been illicit in nature. Not that it mattered now. Whether it turned out she was Rachel’s daughter, or simply an innocent woman with a remarkable resemblance to Anne, she was going to be royally pissed when she discovered the truth behind his arrival in Palmerton.
And if it turns out she’s the con artist you thought her to be after all? The annoyingly suspicious voice in his head chose that moment to be heard from again. He sighed. It no longer mattered which of those possibilities ended up being the truth. He was in trouble regardless.
Staring into the stunned glaze of Meggy’s blue eyes as she’d flown apart beneath him, his mind had been full of a single, stark truth; Meggy Calhoun, whoever, whatever you might be, you’re mine .
It was a
With a tug, he exposed her breasts to his fervent gaze. “A new favorite pastime of mine.”
She met his grin with one of her own. Sipping at the glass of chilled, sweet wine, she considered him. “Any pastime involving food seems to be a favorite of yours.”
“Pretty much.” He pulled items from the basket. “But in this case, it’s not just my naturally quick metabolism at work.” He looked up from the basket and winked. “A man needs to keep up his strength when he has a sexy fairy in his bed.”
She plucked a fat grape from the bunch and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Aw, poor baby. Do you need me to whip up a virility potion?”
He glanced down at his lap. “Nope. Doesn’t look like that will be necessary.” The heat of a blush spread across her cheekbones, and he laughed. “Dig in, fairy girl. I’m not the only one who will need to keep up their strength tonight.”
Grinning despite the blush, she reached in the basket and pulled out a yellow box. Her brows snapped together. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He looked confused. “What? You don’t like cheese?”
“That”—she set the box aside to dig in the basket again—”is not cheese. That’s a processed, orange lump of...something. But it’s not cheese.”
He grabbed the box and plucked off the top, peeling back the inner foil to squeeze off a chunk of orange lump. It and the cracker in his hand went into his mouth, and he spoke around the bite. “Leave it to a chef to be a food snob.”
Insulted, she paused in the act of opening a jar of pickles to stare at him. “I’m not a food snob. I just don’t consider that food.”
He snagged a pickle out of the jar in her hands, using it to point at the offending box. “That shit makes the best grilled-cheese sandwiches. In my college years, I lived on that, bread, and beer.”
“In my college years, I lived on perfectly prepared French cuisine.” Nose in the air, she grinned smugly.
He shoved the rest of his pickle into her mouth. “Like I said, food snob.”
They shared the wine, nibbling on the food he’d gathered, and each other, until the combined result of the many caresses and kisses had him shoving aside the basket and its contents for more tempting fare. When she slipped into sleep sometime later, surrounded by his warmth, her last thought was that she’d never look at a picnic the same way again.
****
Trevor smiled at her murmured sigh as her breathing slowed and evened out. He tucked her more tightly to his side. Though he was tired, his muscles pleasantly wrecked and completely sated from his recent orgasms, his mind was too troubled to allow him to sleep.
He wasn’t a man who suffered from indecision. Blessed with the drive to take on the problems of life without hesitation and the intelligence to solve them, he hadn’t had a lot of experience with the phenomenon. But the entire situation surrounding Meggy had demolished his usual instincts.
He couldn’t have made a bigger mess of things if he’d tried. Whatever Meggy had been doing at the farm, he was ninety-nine percent sure it hadn’t been illicit in nature. Not that it mattered now. Whether it turned out she was Rachel’s daughter, or simply an innocent woman with a remarkable resemblance to Anne, she was going to be royally pissed when she discovered the truth behind his arrival in Palmerton.
And if it turns out she’s the con artist you thought her to be after all? The annoyingly suspicious voice in his head chose that moment to be heard from again. He sighed. It no longer mattered which of those possibilities ended up being the truth. He was in trouble regardless.
Staring into the stunned glaze of Meggy’s blue eyes as she’d flown apart beneath him, his mind had been full of a single, stark truth; Meggy Calhoun, whoever, whatever you might be, you’re mine .
It was a
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