Fit for a King by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online Page A

you,” He smiled softly. The
drinks had done the trick; he was finally feeling relaxed and slightly muddled, which was a relief from all the heavy thinking he'd had to do lately. He couldn't have Bess, he reasoned now, but Elissa was fair
game, wasn't she? Shy and virginal—how
tempting to a man. What would it hurt
to give her a little experi ence? He cared about her, in a way. And who
better to deal with her repressions? She'd
almost admitted earlier that she'd
let him.
    "Why
are you doing this?" she asked in a high- pitched tone. Her fingers started to push
him away, but when her hands encountered
warm, hair- roughened skin, they
stopped struggling and flattened against
him. She realized she didn't feel like resisting, anyway. The vodka had done something to her willpower.
She felt more like relaxing against King than fighting him; his proximity was having a throbbing effect on her body.
    "Because
I need something to occupy me, to keep me out of trouble. So you're going to be
my hobby," he said.
    "I
don't want to be your hobby," she protested weakly. Her legs
felt trembly.
    "I
was yours at the beginning," he reminded her. "You've no one
to blame but yourself."
    "That
was different. You were repressed," she said defensively. He was
too close. She was inhaling the tangy, clean scent of him, and it was
intoxicating her
    more than the vodka
had. His bared chest was hard under her fingers, and between seeing him
and smell ing him and feeling him, she was adrift on sensation, her
heart pounding. All that devastating masculinity, so close.
    "/
was repressed?" he asked with an amused smile.
    "You
were all alone," she said quietly, avoiding his eyes. "I
felt sorry for you. I was alone, too. I... well, I thought it
would be nice to have a friend."
    "You
had Warchief," he pointed out, grinning. "Speaking of
Warchief..." He glanced around. The big parrot was on
his perch ring, one foot drawn up, his eyes closed. "Unusual, his
going to sleep without being covered. Is that antibiotic working, do
you think?"
    "He
isn't sneezing or rasping," she said, grateful for the change of
subject. "He's better. He's just sleepy. He always goes to sleep at
dusk, when you're not around." She grinned. "He's in love with
you."
    "I
think he's a she," he laughed. Then he turned his attention back
to her, looking down at the bodice of her jump suit with narrowing eyes.
He moved experimentally, rubbing his chest against her, and she gasped at the
sudden, sharp pleasure the friction pro duced.
    She
flushed to the roots of her long dark hair. "King!"

62
    Diana
Palmer
    Fit for a
King
    63

"Shocking, isn't it?"
he asked, lifting his narrow gaze to hers.
    Her eyes
searched his, curiosity momentarily dis placing her
nervousness at this new intimacy.
    His gaze
held hers while the hands at her waist began to move her in a sensuous circle
against his hard, warm chest.
    The only
sounds she heard were the hoarseness of the ocean against the
sand and the wildness of her own breathing. She couldn't bear to look at
King as sensation overwhelmed her, and she lowered her fore head to
his shoulder. He was breathing heavily, too, his heartbeat
audible.
    His thumbs
edged under her arms, brushing at the sides of her breasts, feeling her
softness, feeling her begin to tremble with the newness of physical plea sure.
    "You
aren't wearing a bra, are you?" he whis pered, his voice
deep and soft at her ear. "That silky thing is so thin that
it's like holding you naked in my arms."
    The power
of the erotic suggestion was such that Elissa bit her lip to keep from crying
out. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and
her legs threatened to buckle
underneath her. She shuddered.
    "Elissa," he breathed roughly.
    She could
smell the Scotch on his breath, but even that was oddly exciting. His arms
suddenly lifted her into
an embrace tight enough that she could feel his
    ribs digging into
her. She clung to him, her face bur ied in his throat, breathing in the
exquisitely male scent of him, her