Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 by Sophie Moreau Read Free Book Online Page A

rip me to shreds, would he? At least not before I fulfilled my end of the auction. I let out a slow breath, willing myself to show the dog I wouldn’t be intimidated. 
    “Lay down.” he said sharply, pointing behind me, his eyes locked on mine. For a moment, I thought he meant me. But of course it was Princess who trotted away obediently.
    “I almost thought…” I began.
    “She’s a very good girl,” he said, winking at me.  “Well, she’s very good for me . She doesn’t trust too many people, but then again neither do I.” He laughed. “For trespassers, she’s rather dangerous.”
    That intimate wink made my heart pound. Oookay. The man has charm. I wondered how much more adrenaline I could handle; between attack dogs and Calvin Chambers, I felt like a heart attack was incoming.
    I glanced at Princess.  She gazed back impassively from the large, silky-looking cushion by the door. Silky looking? More like silk, with the sort of money he has, I thought to myself.   She was laying down, all right, but she wasn’t napping. 
    The dog growled, very quietly.
    “Protective, isn’t she?” Chambers said. “But I’m sure she’ll come around.”
    Somehow I doubted Princess was going to learn to love another girl in her territory, but I kept the thought to myself.
    “But where are my manners!” he said.  He crossed the room in two strides, taking one of my hands in both of his. “I’m Calvin.  Welcome to the estate, Sabrina.” His voice was low and rich, wrapping around me like a silken coil, drawing me in and squeezing gently.
    I felt tiny as his large hand swallowed mine, firm and strong. You wouldn’t have known from the picture in the magazine, but he was well over six feet, probably closer to six-three. As our fingers touched, I felt a slight tingle of anticipation flicker through my nervous system, igniting my muscles into a slow smolder.
    The handshake was longer than I expected—four, maybe five seconds—and his eyes drank me in, never leaving my face. I had been right; his eyes were an unnerving shade of blue, but deep like a dark, starless night or the cold depth of the ocean. He didn’t glance aside or down, granting me a polite break in contact, but stared raptly at me. I struggled not to blink or look away uncomfortably, feeling the small hairs along my arm begin to rise.
    In the photo, he had been clean-shaven, but today, his face was shadowed by stubble—two, maybe three days worth. His skin was flawless, unblemished by wind or sun—so smooth you wanted to reach out and run your hand against it. A perfect whiteness gleamed behind his parted lips, bright against the deep pink of his pout.
    “I’m Sabrina,” I said, licking my dry lips. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Chambers.” He raised one of his eyebrows slightly, nodding, every small facial expression laced with a subtle omnipotence, as if he knew what I was going to say before it slipped from my lips.
    “Calvin, please.”
    I expected him to offer me a tour of the house or at least comment on his impressive entrance, a “What do you think of the fish?” or “Did you have a chance to say hello to the piranhas?” but he was quiet, eyes lingering on my face, as if he were making a decision.
    “Follow me,” he said, finally, shattering the silence, turning and motioning to accompany him down the far corridor.
    My heart threatened to leap from my throat as I walked behind him, trailing him by a few steps. We wound through the maze-like halls, footsteps echoing loudly. I felt as if we were in a castle in Southern France, rather than a few miles outside New York. Were we going to his bedroom? I wondered whether we’d spend any more time talking or whether he’d simply pull back his covers and have me undress while he waited between the sheets.
    It occurred to me that I had no idea what to do— what if I were horrible, a huge disappointment? Those bedroom eyes guaranteed he was skillful behind closed doors. Thud,