Girl Gear 6: Indiscreet by Alison Kent Read Free Book Online

hand to slide the omelette from pan to plate. He then set the pan on the counter, covering the cigarette butt, before turning his full attention to the woman in his arms.
    Dodging his affections, she grabbed another bite of tomato, this one out of the omelette, complete with a dangling string of cheese. She reeled in the cheese with her tongue, chewed and swallowed, afflicting him with that smart-ass smirk that never failed to tie his gut in knots.
    Thought she was going to get the better of him, did she? She’d better be thinking again. This time when he grabbed her, he didn’t let her squirm free, but delivered another hard, teasing, drive-by sweep of his tongue through her mouth.
    “You taste like tomatoes,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist. He pulled her close for a kiss that was leisurely and lingering, that swept him away with possibilities and promises—until fear came crashing in, the fear that she would drown his ability to scent danger.
    Still he kissed her, pushing his hips against her so thathis erection found and settled into the softness of her belly. He pulsed there, throbbing, aching, and he backed her into the edge of the counter for a more secure hold.
    She wound her arms around his neck, one hand at his nape, the other pulling his head down with forceful insistence. Her hunger matched his own. Her tongue tangled with his, and her taste set him on fire.
    For all her sass, she tendered a sweetness that stole his breath, reminding him that he was a man and that he had survived. She was a huge reason he was finally grateful for the latter; he’d gone so long not giving a damn.
    While the idea of remaining a part of her life kicked his self-preservation instincts awake, the idea of leaving triggered something more compelling—the need to protect what was his and no other’s. In a matter of weeks, Annabel had become an addiction his sworn enemy wouldn’t fail to exploit.
    The thought gave him pause. Maybe he should run as far away from this woman as time allowed before the inevitable happened, before he lost the edge that had kept him alive, and Annabel paid the price.
    He started to break the kiss. With a sound of distress, she cupped his jaw so tenderly he couldn’t pretend that all she felt was lust.
    That all he felt was lust.
    He growled into her mouth, seeking more of what she was always so ready to give…then perversely grinding away every trace of gentleness until only raw passion remained. He didn’t even release her when the bell rang and the loft’s private elevator whirred in the shaft, signaling Chloe’s arrival.
    Annabel moved her hands from his neck to push against his chest, and tore her mouth free with a gasp. Then she glared at him. “I hate it when you do that.”
    He feigned an indifferent shrug, reached for the omelette plate and cast a pointed glance at the front of her robe, where her nipples had risen to the occasion. “Yeah. I can tell.”
    “Arrgh!” She balled her hands into fists, turned and stomped toward the door, but not before glancing down and adjusting the folds of her robe.
    Patrick peeked around the floor-to-ceiling lava lamp sculptures that divided the kitchen from the main room of the loft and watched her very fine ass swish away. Sending her off with a long, low wolf whistle, he tossed the pan into the sink and snagged up the omelette and the cigarette butt.
    Making his way through the back of the kitchen to the hallway, he headed for Annabel’s bedroom. Shimmying out of his jersey shorts, he kicked them into the corner of the walk-in closet where she let him keep a few things. Standing there bare-ass naked, he scarfed down all of their breakfast while deciding on an action plan.
    Clothes first, then down to the street to seek out more clues. There was a massive chance that the Jamaican-made cigarette was a coincidence, even though in the eighteen months since his return he’d never found a store that carried the brand.
    And he’d looked,