Darkness Bound by J. T. Geissinger Read Free Book Online Page B

camera as if she wanted to strangle the photographer, or on assignment in some hellhole with her hair in a messy ponytail, mirrored aviators on her stern, unsmiling face, wearing khakis and combat boots, gazing off into the distance. In those photos, the unmistakable impression was one of a woman who was hard . Hard, cold, and an utter bitch.
    The woman snoring gently beside him now was anything but that. She was actually quite sweet.
    He wondered why she tried so hard to hide it.
    In sleep, her features lost all their rigid tension, the sharp, wary edges that lent her that standoffish vibe that telegraphed she’d rather kill you than say hello. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose, fine as a sifting of cinnamon, and her lower lip was slightly more full than the top one, giving her mouth an alluring kiss me pout. She was bright and sexy and shockingly vulnerable beneath that icy façade, and she was also quite possibly the best lay of his life.
    God, was she.
    He’d never known a woman with such hunger. Most women were shy or hesitant, especially the first time with someone new, but Jacqueline Dolan had been ravenous, nearly insatiable, despite hours of his best efforts. It was as if she’d been storing up every one of her sexual needs for years, and unleashed them all last night. And, if he was being entirely honest with himself . . . he liked it.
    He liked it a lot.
    Jacqueline shifted beside him, exhaled a small, restless sigh. Her lids drifted open. She blinked up at him in hazy recognition, her blue eyes soft and warm.
    “Lucas Eduardo Tavares Castelo Luna,” she whispered, smiling drowsily up at him, “you are a beautiful man. I hope you have a beautiful life. Will you please put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door when you leave?”
    Just as quickly as she’d awoken, she closed her eyes and fell back asleep, leaving Hawk staring down at her in shock.
    She remembered his name. No one ever called him by his real name.
    And no one—ever—had called him beautiful.
    An unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling crept over him, starting in the deepest pit of his stomach and going everywhere at once.
    Weak , whispered his father’s voice into his mind. Weak and worthless, like I always said .
    Yes, he had always said that. And despite being dead for over fifteen years, his father still lurked in the darkest corners of his psyche, waiting to pounce on the slightest show of softness or emotion.
    Hawk sat up and shook his head to clear it.
    “Job to do. Playtime’s over,” he muttered, gazing at her camera on the night table beside the bed.
    He rose silently from the bed and just as silently dressed, all the while willing himself not to take one last look at the sleeping form of Jacqueline. Then he removed the memory card from the camera, and swiftly crossed to the door.
    He hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the handle as he left.

Jack awoke tired, hungry, and deliciously sore.
    She stretched, reveling in the way her muscles protested, unused to the kind of vigorous workout they’d had last night. She lay there smiling up at the white popcorn ceiling, thinking one word over and over:
    Wow.
    Last night had been, hands down, the single most sexy/dirty/amazing night of her life. They’d tried every position, on every piece of furniture. If there had been a chandelier on the ceiling, they’d have hung from it.
    And pictures. Christ, she’d let him take pictures of her.
    She glanced at the camera still beside the bed, and decided she’d look at them only once before deleting them all and destroying the memory card. He’d been playful when he’d suggested it, coyly asking if she wanted to have a little something to remember her birthday present by, and she’d been so caught up in the moment she’d agreed. Then he’d given her pleasure again and again, the camera shutter clicking furiously, until finally they were both so exhausted they fell into sleep near dawn.
    She closed her eyes and remembered