Cutter's Hope by A.J. Downey Read Free Book Online

caught me around my waist, hauling me forward and closing the foot or so gap between us. My hands went unbidden to the swell of his arms and I looked up at him questioningly.
    “That, was a good first date,” he murmured.
    “You aren’t getting any,” I stated flatly.
    “Just want my good night kiss,” he breathed and his breath was warm against my lips. Oh Hell yes! My inner wanton sex fiend screamed while my brain tried valiantly to dissuade me with, not a good idea Hope! Not a good idea! But it was too late. Cutters lips touched mine, soft, so soft; so gentle. A query really, giving me ample time to shove him away, but I couldn’t.
    When I didn’t shove him away he hauled me up tighter against his body and I deepened the kiss, flicking my tongue against his lower lip. I just had to know, had to have a taste to see if he tasted as phenomenal as I thought he would and god, yes he did! Salty and masculine, Cutter tasted of the ocean, like a fresh storm front moving in off the water. Crisp, like the wine we’d just drunk but also, just of him . I couldn’t help the needy groan that escaped me as I practically melted in his embrace. Damn it. So not fair.
    His hand swept up my body and buried itself in the back of my hair, pressing me to him and I was okay with that. Somehow my hands had done some wandering of their own, cupping his bearded cheeks, thumbs stroking lightly across his cheekbones. He growled into my mouth, a deep, satisfied, and completely base sound that loosened things in my chest and made me, yes me , Hope Elizabeth Andrews, ever loving badass extraordinaire, swoon. I swooned. I motherfucking sighed out into his mouth and sagged slightly into his chest like some kind of goddamn Disney princess… and it felt so fucking good to do it.
    I lost myself completely for a minute there and couldn’t even blame the wine. I mean I’d only had one glass and no one could accuse me of being a light weight, no sir. Cutter’s hand, the one that wasn’t buried in my hair, drifted to the swell of my hip and pulled me just that slightest bit closer. He was so warm, his energy still and controlled as his lips moved over mine and our tongues twisted and explored. His kiss was sweet and demanding at the same time and there was something that was a complete turn on about that. I pressed my thighs together and raised myself up onto my toes before dropping flat footed to the deck and rocking back, gasping for air.
    Cutter’s hands were suddenly both in my hair, gently pushing it back from my face. He smiled like a teenage boy who’d just talked the head cheerleader into the backseat of his car. He smoothed his thumbs along my jaw, his fingertips slipping out of my hairline to rest on either side of my throat, my pulse jumping beneath them. He looked over my face as if committing this moment, my expression, to the deepest recesses of his memory, cementing it there for the rest of his life. He shuddered as if waking from a dream and his smile softened to something more serious.
    “Not every man out here is out to dick you over, Sweetheart. I’m not out to dick you over… sometimes you just gotta have a little faith,” his smile slipped when I recoiled in horror.
    Shit. He knew something! He knew something about Tonya Anon, the last person to see my sister Faith! And here I was, forgetting that he knew something and wouldn’t tell me! So what the fuck was I doing playing tonsil hockey with the son of a bitch on his boat?
    I snarled in disgust, more at myself than at him and leapt for the dock. I landed lightly on my feet, as I’d been trained to do, and strode away, and I kept walking until I hit beach, and I kept walking after that. Striding across the sand and away from Anders Cutter Martin. A man who was too easily making me forget myself and what was at stake.
    Faith. That was the big fucking problem and why I was here. I didn’t have Faith anymore. My sister was gone and I didn’t know where, or how, or