Divine Solace: 8 by Joey W. Hill Read Free Book Online Page A

tightened on him, he
straightened, squaring his body more with hers. Studying her face, he reached
down, retrieved her other hand, and placed it on his other side. She stared at
her hands, resting on his upper abdomen. She spread out her fingers, her thumb
following the line of the lowest bone on his rib cage, then up to the one above
it. Cotton fabric, so soft and thin, molded his shape. She could gather it up
in her fingers, touch bare flesh.
    As if he could read everything in her face—or maybe he
wanted to be touched—he put his hands between them, took the hem of the shirt
up and over his head, getting rid of it. A simple movement, no excessive flare
to startle her into thinking this was about to accelerate to an act she didn’t
want to commit. It just gave her more access to what she wanted to touch. Now
she was staring at his chest. He was about half a head taller than her, but she
kept her chin tilted down, still looking at her hands, resting on bare skin. He
had no tattoos on his front, but she expected he had them somewhere. All men
under the age of thirty seemed to these days.
    He had a light mat of brown chest hair that tapered to a
bold arrow between his defined abs, headed for his groin. She didn’t let her
eyes go that far. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.
    “Noah, I shouldn’t… Lyda.”
    “I’m here for you, Gen. She gave me to you for the weekend.”
    Whoa. Stop. Back up.
    She did so literally, stepping away from him, though her
palms itched with irritation at her, wanting to be right back where they’d
been. “What?”
    “There’s no obligation to it, Gen,” he said carefully. “I’m
here to be whatever you need. Tile your floors, paint your walls. But if you
need me other ways…I’m willing to be that as well.”
    “She just…loans you out?” Gen’s shock turned into something
far different. “You don’t even know me.”
    “No. It’s not like that.” His voice was instantly resolute,
eyes reflecting the spark she’d seen when he and Lyda had their exchange about
his stubbornness. It reassured her, somewhat. He paused, sighed. “I’m sorry,
Gen. I’m used to being around Dommes. Mistresses. Those who understand the
boundaries, the way this works. I should have brought it up earlier, maybe in
the car when it was more neutral, but until you reached out to touch me like
this, I wasn’t sure if it was going to be an issue. But I could feel…something,
when you looked at me. You intrigue me, as much as you do my Mistress. Like I
said.”
    The sudden, very male look of awareness coursed through her
blood, but Gen pushed it away, trying to get a handle on this. She wasn’t sure
why she was so agitated, but she was. “So you’re her Welcome Wagon? Or her
bait? Works out well for you, doesn’t it? I mean, what guy turns down getting
laid as often as possible?” She took another step back. The lasagna was likely
getting cold. They should eat.
    His flash of chagrin made her wince at herself. He’d been
nothing but kind and respectful. But she had no frame of reference for this
except a history of men who looked out for their own interests, especially when
it came to sex.
    “I’m sorry, Gen. I’ll go. The last thing I want is to make
you uncomfortable.” He spread his hands, a conciliatory motion. She sensed no
resentment or passive aggressiveness in his tone, nothing but a sincere
apology. “If you want, I’ll come back tomorrow and help you with your kitchen.
I’ll just stay somewhere else.”
    “You can just switch it on and off. Nice for you.”
    In response he stepped forward, snagged her wrist. She tried
to back up a step, but he followed her. The stove was warm against the backs of
her legs. She shook her head at him, but then he put her hand right below his
belt. Beneath the jeans where she hadn’t allowed herself to look, she felt a
very substantial erection.
    Her gaze shot up to his face. Immediately, he moved her hand
to rest in a half curl on his bare