Blue Velvet by Iris Johansen Read Free Book Online Page B

No red badge of courage for you.”
    “That was a wonderful book, wasn’t it?” she asked eagerly, her face lighting up. “I found an English copy in a used bookstore in Maracaibo afew years ago. I can usually only find Spanish or Portuguese translations and I always think it’s much nicer to read a book in the original, don’t you?”
    “Oh, indubitably,” he drawled. “How many languages do you read?”
    “Spanish and Portuguese,” she answered. “I speak a little French, but I can’t read or write it.”
    “What a shame,” he said mildly. “Turn around here and let me take a look at that head.” His hands were on her shoulders. “So you’re a Stephen Crane fan. Who else do you like?”
    “Everyone,” she said with a dreamy smile as she obediently turned to face him. “Shakespeare, Samuel Clemens, Walter Scott.” His hands were parting the short wet strands that were clinging seal-like around her face. “I particularly like Shakespeare. There’s so much music in his words.”
    “You have something against the twentieth century?” He was probing gently at the swelling, his expression carefully impersonal.
    “No, it’s just easier to get hold of the classics in a foreign country.”
    “This doesn’t seem too bad,” he said, relieved.“No headache?” His hands fell to her nape and began a gentle kneading massage of the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders.
    “No.” She found to her surprise that she was speaking the truth. The painful throbbing had all but disappeared and the combination of the soothing spray and those magical fingers was melting every muscle in her body into a state resembling warm butter. Unconsciously she nestled closer, laying her head on his chest like a contented child. “It’s all gone.”
    “Good.” She felt his lips brush her forehead. “Which Shakespearean play do you like best?”
    “
Romeo and Juliet
. I know it’s not considered his most cerebral, but there’s something about it that touches me every time. And the words …” Her arms linked absently about his waist. “They’re like sunlight, all clear and shining and beautiful.”
    “Golden rain?” he suggested. His thumb had found the cords of tension in the center of her nape with delicious accuracy.
    “Um-hmm.” She nodded, conscious of the damp thatch of hair beneath her cheek and the scent of soap and musk that surrounded him. “Inever thought of it quite like that, but it’s a lovely way to describe it. A golden rain of words.” She moved a little closer. “I love the way—” She broke off as she felt the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach. Her eyes widened in shock as they flew down his body.
    He chuckled. “What did you expect? Those pretty nipples have been poking into me, and I’ve been dying to cuddle that pert little derriere since the instant I stepped in here. I’m not an iron man, you know.”
    She started to back away. “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered in confusion. “I didn’t mean—”
    “Hush,” he said softly. His hands on her nape tightened as he tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “I’m not an iron man but I’m not a boy either. Of course I want you, but I’m not going to throw you down on the floor and rape you. I can handle it.” He cast a mischievous glance down at himself and his eyes were suddenly dancing. “As long as you promise you won’t!”
    A little smile tugged at her lips. The man was really outrageous. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”
    She was standing here naked as the day shewas born actually joking with this impossibly attractive man, she thought in bewilderment. What was even more unusual was that after that first moment of excruciating shyness, she’d felt perfectly natural and relaxed about it. He was such a strange man. Tenderness and violence, mischief and cynicism, virile lust and almost maternal gentleness. Yet she felt as comfortable with him in this moment as if she’d known him for