Read Online True North (Compass series Book 4) by Tamsen Parker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tamsen Parker
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doors. A few open, most closed.
“I heard Spider’s here. The man is a genius with rope, maybe the best rigger I know. You’ve never shown a particular interest in rope, but this is worth seeing regardless. He’s half the reason I stop in DC.”
The sounds have gotten louder, sounds I want to stop and decipher, see if I can’t tell what’s going on behind those closed doors. Although I’m sure that’s frowned upon. If people want an audience, they leave the doors open.
There are doors open.
We’re nearing the end of the hallway when something catches my eye. Something shiny and fiery and bouncing like a rubber ball.
“Rey!”
A blonde woman dressed in a red patent leather corset, skirt, and matching heels bounds out of one of the doors and throws herself at Rey. I’m a few steps behind him and damn . How do I get Rey’s job? Because it sure as hell seems a lot more fun than mine. Scantily clad women literally throw themselves at him.
Everyone else who’s greeted him has been received enthusiastically, but for some reason, he’s standing stock still, his eyes gone wide, and he’s staring at the opposite wall. Something has Rey Walter flustered? No way. I’ve got to be reading this wrong. But seriously, the guy looks like he’s seen a ghost.
Slowly, his hands come up and he returns the woman’s embrace, tightening his grip until it looks like he’s crushing her, but instead of squealing, she sighs. She kicks up one of her heels, drawing attention to the seam that runs up the back of her black, thigh-high stockings. The tops hug her legs, pale skin interrupted by a garter that fastens onto the nylon with a cherry.
Little trashy, but in a crazy-hot way.
I would very much like an introduction to this woman. As soon as Rey’s finished fondling her at any rate. He’s loosened his hold, but tucked her head onto his shoulder. I can’t see her face, but I can see her breasts pushed against his chest as he pets her hair. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks uncertain.
But that can’t possibly be true. He’s always got his shit together, unlike the rest of us. Finally, he releases the woman and takes her hand as they part, looking directly at me from under his heavy brows. Given the intensity of his expression, it feels like he’s trying to send a message directly to my brain. But if that were true, wouldn’t he just do it? Seriously, the guy has special powers.
“Hale, I’d like you to meet Sprite.”
My gaze migrates to the woman, and at first I see teased blonde hair pulled on top of her head, followed by heavy black-lined eyes with lashes so long and thick they’ve got to be fake, especially on someone as fair as she is. That’s when my heart leaps out of my chest, up through my throat, and out onto the floor where it ceases to beat.
I know the eyes framed with black. I know the pert nose and slightly too-wide mouth underneath. I know the creamy expanse of neck that slides into delicate collarbones and, yeah, the breasts that spill out the top of her corset. Except, fuck me, I’ve never seen them like that.
I know all of them because I’m staring straight into the face—okay, the cleavage—of my ex-wife.
Chapter Seven
‡
“P ressly.” As I drag my gaze up to her face, her name spills out of my mouth without my permission, the syllables drawn out over the slipslide of those double esses. Fuck. I’m not supposed to say her name. “Sorry. Sprite.”
Sprite? Little fun fairy? I suppose that fits. She does look like fun. In that outfit. What the hell?
Rey glares at me.
“I said sorry. I was just surprised.”
Pressly’s gone an unnatural shade of pale. She’s standing there in her figure-hugging clothes, her slickly bright-red mouth hanging open, showing the top row of her white teeth. Deer-in-headlights is not Pressly’s style.
Rey grips her arm and leans down to speak in her ear, though his enunciation is better than perfect and his voice is pitched so I
“I heard Spider’s here. The man is a genius with rope, maybe the best rigger I know. You’ve never shown a particular interest in rope, but this is worth seeing regardless. He’s half the reason I stop in DC.”
The sounds have gotten louder, sounds I want to stop and decipher, see if I can’t tell what’s going on behind those closed doors. Although I’m sure that’s frowned upon. If people want an audience, they leave the doors open.
There are doors open.
We’re nearing the end of the hallway when something catches my eye. Something shiny and fiery and bouncing like a rubber ball.
“Rey!”
A blonde woman dressed in a red patent leather corset, skirt, and matching heels bounds out of one of the doors and throws herself at Rey. I’m a few steps behind him and damn . How do I get Rey’s job? Because it sure as hell seems a lot more fun than mine. Scantily clad women literally throw themselves at him.
Everyone else who’s greeted him has been received enthusiastically, but for some reason, he’s standing stock still, his eyes gone wide, and he’s staring at the opposite wall. Something has Rey Walter flustered? No way. I’ve got to be reading this wrong. But seriously, the guy looks like he’s seen a ghost.
Slowly, his hands come up and he returns the woman’s embrace, tightening his grip until it looks like he’s crushing her, but instead of squealing, she sighs. She kicks up one of her heels, drawing attention to the seam that runs up the back of her black, thigh-high stockings. The tops hug her legs, pale skin interrupted by a garter that fastens onto the nylon with a cherry.
Little trashy, but in a crazy-hot way.
I would very much like an introduction to this woman. As soon as Rey’s finished fondling her at any rate. He’s loosened his hold, but tucked her head onto his shoulder. I can’t see her face, but I can see her breasts pushed against his chest as he pets her hair. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks uncertain.
But that can’t possibly be true. He’s always got his shit together, unlike the rest of us. Finally, he releases the woman and takes her hand as they part, looking directly at me from under his heavy brows. Given the intensity of his expression, it feels like he’s trying to send a message directly to my brain. But if that were true, wouldn’t he just do it? Seriously, the guy has special powers.
“Hale, I’d like you to meet Sprite.”
My gaze migrates to the woman, and at first I see teased blonde hair pulled on top of her head, followed by heavy black-lined eyes with lashes so long and thick they’ve got to be fake, especially on someone as fair as she is. That’s when my heart leaps out of my chest, up through my throat, and out onto the floor where it ceases to beat.
I know the eyes framed with black. I know the pert nose and slightly too-wide mouth underneath. I know the creamy expanse of neck that slides into delicate collarbones and, yeah, the breasts that spill out the top of her corset. Except, fuck me, I’ve never seen them like that.
I know all of them because I’m staring straight into the face—okay, the cleavage—of my ex-wife.
Chapter Seven
‡
“P ressly.” As I drag my gaze up to her face, her name spills out of my mouth without my permission, the syllables drawn out over the slipslide of those double esses. Fuck. I’m not supposed to say her name. “Sorry. Sprite.”
Sprite? Little fun fairy? I suppose that fits. She does look like fun. In that outfit. What the hell?
Rey glares at me.
“I said sorry. I was just surprised.”
Pressly’s gone an unnatural shade of pale. She’s standing there in her figure-hugging clothes, her slickly bright-red mouth hanging open, showing the top row of her white teeth. Deer-in-headlights is not Pressly’s style.
Rey grips her arm and leans down to speak in her ear, though his enunciation is better than perfect and his voice is pitched so I
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