Mocha Latte (Silk Stocking Inn #3) by Tess Oliver, Anna Hart Read Free Book Online

shoulders. The nearly transparent lace fell beneath my breasts.
    He pressed his mouth on the round swell. “Fucking priceless,” he muttered again.
    My arms wrapped around his head as I held him against my breast. His tongue flicked against my nipple, teasing it to a hard, tight bud. I ran my hands down over his rock hard shoulders and back. The muscles in his body tensed and stretched as he kissed and caressed my skin.
    My pussy was aching to be touched, kissed and caressed as well, but he took his time, almost as if he didn’t want to scare me off. A breath of disappointment ushered from my lips as he lifted his mouth away from me. His green eyes were enough to melt me into a puddle at his feet. But I held it together, even with the pulse between my legs nearly screaming out for him.
    “I meant what I said in the barn.” He reached up and dragged his callused thumb along my bottom lip. “These lips.” He dropped his gaze to my body. “These curves. Mine for the weekend.”
    A shiver of excitement coursed through me as he spoke, confident, demanding and impossible to say no to.
    “Do you trust me enough to give yourself to me for a weekend, Rebecca?”
    “Trust you? Heck no.”
    His face smoothed in disappointment.
    I reached up and curled my hands around his neck before he had a chance to pull away. “If I did, then this wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.”
    His mouth tilted slightly. “Is that a yes?”
    “You have forty-eight hours, cowboy, to make me believe that I’m truly priceless.”
    Jackson’s hands came up, and he took hold of my face. “Easy as buttermilk pie.” His mouth pressed against mine.

Chapter 11
    Not wanting to be completely reckless in a world where reality could easily come back to bite you in the butt, Jackson and I had the obligatory conversation about protection. I was on the pill, and after discovering that my fiancé had been with someone else, I’d hastened myself to the doctor for a quick blood test. Jackson had recently donated blood. So we had those questions out of the way. He’d returned to his room to shower, something he’d been on his way to do before rescuing me from the hallway.
    I sat amongst the sea of pillows on the bed and flipped through a magazine that had been left on the nightstand, a periodical completely devoted to raising chickens. I was nearly a chick rearing expert by the time Jackson knocked on the door.
    The sound of it made me tremble with nerves. I’d never done anything remotely close to this, and I wished that in the interim, rather than increase my knowledge about chickens, I’d gone downstairs for a glass of wine. Maybe two.
    “Come in.” I sounded like a frightened child.
    Coco’s face poked inside, and I covered myself with the magazine. As if she’d read my mind, she walked in with a tray carrying a carafe half filled with red wine and a glass.
    “Coco, it’s as if I have my own personal fairy godmother this weekend. I was just thinking about a glass of wine. It will—it will help me sleep. Sometimes I have a hard time getting a good night’s rest in a strange place.” I’d lost the frightened child tone, and now I was talking overly loud and fast, like anyone with a guilty conscience might speak.
    She lowered the tray onto my nightstand. A few of the phantom age lines appeared and then smoothed away. “Then I’m glad to grant you this wish.” She winked as if there was far more to the quip than she was letting on. Magical or not, she always seemed to know what I was thinking.
    Coco looked pointedly at the magazine covering my nearly naked body. “I’ll let you get back to the chickens then.” She walked toward the door. “The section on chicken feed is very informative.” She closed the door behind her.
    I kept my fingers crossed that she would not run into Jackson coming across the hallway.
    ***
    Turned out there was no worry of Coco running into Jackson. I’d gotten through chicken feeding and even memorized the