Read Online Too Hot to Handle by Aleah Barley - Free Book Online Page A

feeling empty.
    Fingers splayed around her thigh, making her muscles tense. He held her in place while he knelt on the ground, a penitent before some pagan altar.
    She closed her eyes, preparing for what came next.
    “No.” His fingers dug into her thigh. “I want you to watch.”
    It took everything she had to open her eyes, and then he was slipping her panties further down. He kissed his way along her hipbone, following a decades-old scar.
    His curly brown hair was dark against the pale skin of her belly. She could feel his teeth grazing her skin, nipping at her thigh, and then his tongue was on her, and she gasped desperately for air. Honey arched her back, needing to feel him closer, and she groaned when he caught her with his strong hands. Shoulder muscles bulged as he pushed her down against the counter, hard.
    In a few hours, they’d have matching bruises, but it would be worth it.
    His tongue moved inside her. Connecting with her core, tasting her, touching her in places she’d never been touched before. Places she hadn’t even known existed.
    When she finally came in a rush of heat and passion, the pleasure made her scream.
    Her bones turned to jelly.
    A deep smile carved itself permanently on her face.
    She reached down, curling her hands in Jack’s shirt. Tugging at the soft cotton, she felt hard muscle and something else.
    Something wet.
    Her eyes opened. She pulled back, concentrating on what was right in front of her. A dark stain on the front of his green T-shirt.

Chapter Seven
     
    “What happened?”
    Jack pushed himself to his feet. It took him a moment to figure out what Honey was talking about.
    Seeing the blood on his shirt made him feel all the aches and pains he’d been ignoring while she was in his arms. The fight the night before wasn’t something he could recover from with a few hours’ sleep. It would take time, rest. Maybe some fresh stitches.
    “Just a little cut. I’m fine.”
    She tugged up his shirt, taking a quick peek underneath. “It’s just a little gaping wound. Why didn’t you tell me how bad the damage was?”
    “It’s not that bad.”
    Pain was the kind of thing a man liked to be quiet about—especially a man who’d been raised never to show weakness. People wouldn’t vote for someone they considered weak. He didn’t want the great American political career his mother had always planned for him, but the lessons she’d taught him applied equally well on the mean streets of Los Angeles. Never let them see you bleed.
    Besides, Honey was depending on him to keep her safe. He needed her to believe in him.
    “I’m fine.”
    “Stay here,” she told him before moving out of reach.
    Jack closed his eyes and listened to Honey’s footsteps padding through the apartment. What had he done?
    Standing next to her in the cramped kitchen, every motion had been intimate, bringing them closer together. Taking her in his arms had been inevitable, although he hadn’t actually planned to get all the way to third base with her on the countertop.
    He’d been following some primal, animalistic instinct. In another couple of seconds, he’d have dragged her down to the floor. He would have entered her easily, hot and hard, his mouth descending on hers so she could taste herself, salty on his lips. Breathing in unison, panting, gasping. His hips would have rocked against hers until she came a second time with his final thrust.
    Jack shook his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears.
    Not in his ears. His cell phone. It rang three times, then stopped. A few seconds later, he heard the distinctive bell that meant he had a voicemail.
    His eyes opened. He leaned over, retrieving his phone from the floor beside Honey’s backpack.
    Fourteen messages. Starting the night before and continuing on into the morning.
    He sank to the floor, listening. The first was from his boss. Hell. The man must think Jack didn’t have a personal life.
    He was right, according to Jack’s last few