Read Online The Zombie Billionaire's Virgin Witch (Zombie Category Romance) by Joely Sue Burkhart - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Joely Sue Burkhart
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toward her, relishing
the way her eyes widened. She licked her lips nervously, drawing his gaze
to her mouth.
"Do
you understand now, Mr. Michelopoulos?"
Blood
thumped a frantic staccato in his body. "What I understand is that
you've addicted every person in this town."
Her
shoulders sagged and she hung her head, cupping her cheeks in her hands.
"I was afraid you'd think that."
She
whispered in a broken voice that compelled him closer. His stomach
growled again, a ravenous beast slobbering at the rich scents rolling from the
kitchen. Or was it her? He caught the vanilla scent of her hair,
the brown-sugar sweetness of her skin, dusted with cocoa. He groaned, his
mouth watering. Damn it all to hell, she smelled like that cursed cake
she'd made last night.
God
help me if it's on the menu tonight.
"Ms.
Remy..."
Her
fist buried in his complaining stomach so hard he doubled over, barely catching
himself against the wall. He’d flatten another man who dared punch him,
but the idea of a woman hitting him so hard knocked the air out of him as well
as her fist. When he could speak again, he growled out, "What the
hell was that for?"
"You
don't know? Well, let me explain it to you, Mr. Michelopoulos. I'm
tired of your heavy-handed arrogance. Everyone tiptoes around you, too
afraid to tell you when you're being an alphahole, but I'm not afraid of
you."
Despite
the cramping pain in his stomach muscles, he spluttered out a laugh.
"What the hell does alphahole mean?"
"Because
you have more money than God, you think you're top dog. Alpha. You
rule, everyone else drools. You come in snarling and snapping at anyone
who dares stand up to you, and they crawl away with their tails between their
legs." She stabbed him in the chest with her index finger.
"But deep down, you're the biggest asshole I've ever met, Mr.
Michelopoulos. A real alpha takes care of his people. He doesn't
lord it over them and take every opportunity to beat them down with his
ridiculous commands."
Taken
aback, he lowered his head toward hers so he could glare into her eyes.
"You don't think I take care of my people?"
"All
I've seen are demands and foul temper."
Eyes
narrowed, he watched her expressive face while letting possible plans of action
flicker through his mind. He didn't care what she thought of him.
Not really. She was certainly justified in thinking the worst of him
after he took her father's restaurant and replaced all the employees.
He'd sent them off with tidy sums, but she didn't know that, and only after
interviewing each of them. He would've hired several of them, but they
weren't willing to work for him.
Again,
not that he could blame them.
Her
body vibrated just inches away, her eyes flashing, her hands still balled up,
ready to sock him again. Surely she didn't know that such a challenge
would attract him more.
He
stilled, his breath stuck in his lungs. His erection throbbed in his
pants, emphasizing that realization. "What are you doing to me,
witch?"
"Nothing,"
she breathed out soft and low, her eyes liquid pools of innocence and
sweetness.
Lies. I can’t possibly want her this much. His stomach rumbled again so loudly
that her lips quirked, making him flush.
"Afraid
to eat my cooking, Mr. Michelopoulos?" She taunted softly, those
full lush lips curving in invitation. "Surely the big bad wolf isn't
afraid of the goodies in Little Red Riding Hood's basket."
"Wrong
fairytale," he growled out. Then he wrapped his hand around the bun
at the nape of her neck and crushed her lips beneath his.
Shock
splintered through her. For a man who found her appearance lacking and
her magic bordering on criminal, he was certainly enthusiastic in his
kiss. Not that she was complaining.
He
must have expected shyness or timid restraint, because when she threaded her
hands in his hair and lifted her body tighter to his, he made a low sound of
surprise. She might be a
the way her eyes widened. She licked her lips nervously, drawing his gaze
to her mouth.
"Do
you understand now, Mr. Michelopoulos?"
Blood
thumped a frantic staccato in his body. "What I understand is that
you've addicted every person in this town."
Her
shoulders sagged and she hung her head, cupping her cheeks in her hands.
"I was afraid you'd think that."
She
whispered in a broken voice that compelled him closer. His stomach
growled again, a ravenous beast slobbering at the rich scents rolling from the
kitchen. Or was it her? He caught the vanilla scent of her hair,
the brown-sugar sweetness of her skin, dusted with cocoa. He groaned, his
mouth watering. Damn it all to hell, she smelled like that cursed cake
she'd made last night.
God
help me if it's on the menu tonight.
"Ms.
Remy..."
Her
fist buried in his complaining stomach so hard he doubled over, barely catching
himself against the wall. He’d flatten another man who dared punch him,
but the idea of a woman hitting him so hard knocked the air out of him as well
as her fist. When he could speak again, he growled out, "What the
hell was that for?"
"You
don't know? Well, let me explain it to you, Mr. Michelopoulos. I'm
tired of your heavy-handed arrogance. Everyone tiptoes around you, too
afraid to tell you when you're being an alphahole, but I'm not afraid of
you."
Despite
the cramping pain in his stomach muscles, he spluttered out a laugh.
"What the hell does alphahole mean?"
"Because
you have more money than God, you think you're top dog. Alpha. You
rule, everyone else drools. You come in snarling and snapping at anyone
who dares stand up to you, and they crawl away with their tails between their
legs." She stabbed him in the chest with her index finger.
"But deep down, you're the biggest asshole I've ever met, Mr.
Michelopoulos. A real alpha takes care of his people. He doesn't
lord it over them and take every opportunity to beat them down with his
ridiculous commands."
Taken
aback, he lowered his head toward hers so he could glare into her eyes.
"You don't think I take care of my people?"
"All
I've seen are demands and foul temper."
Eyes
narrowed, he watched her expressive face while letting possible plans of action
flicker through his mind. He didn't care what she thought of him.
Not really. She was certainly justified in thinking the worst of him
after he took her father's restaurant and replaced all the employees.
He'd sent them off with tidy sums, but she didn't know that, and only after
interviewing each of them. He would've hired several of them, but they
weren't willing to work for him.
Again,
not that he could blame them.
Her
body vibrated just inches away, her eyes flashing, her hands still balled up,
ready to sock him again. Surely she didn't know that such a challenge
would attract him more.
He
stilled, his breath stuck in his lungs. His erection throbbed in his
pants, emphasizing that realization. "What are you doing to me,
witch?"
"Nothing,"
she breathed out soft and low, her eyes liquid pools of innocence and
sweetness.
Lies. I can’t possibly want her this much. His stomach rumbled again so loudly
that her lips quirked, making him flush.
"Afraid
to eat my cooking, Mr. Michelopoulos?" She taunted softly, those
full lush lips curving in invitation. "Surely the big bad wolf isn't
afraid of the goodies in Little Red Riding Hood's basket."
"Wrong
fairytale," he growled out. Then he wrapped his hand around the bun
at the nape of her neck and crushed her lips beneath his.
Shock
splintered through her. For a man who found her appearance lacking and
her magic bordering on criminal, he was certainly enthusiastic in his
kiss. Not that she was complaining.
He
must have expected shyness or timid restraint, because when she threaded her
hands in his hair and lifted her body tighter to his, he made a low sound of
surprise. She might be a
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