Nauti Intentions by Lora Leigh Read Free Book Online

too close to the fire. And what the hel was she doing now?
    She lifted her hand, touched her sensitive lips, and closed her eyes against the pleasure. Then she couldn’t help herself. Her fingers trailed down
    her neck, over the curve of her breast, to the hard points of her nipple.
    She gasped. A surge of feeling rushed from the hardened point straight to her clit and exploded in a detonation of need before she jerked her hand
    back.
    Once, a long time ago, Janey had known how to touch herself at least. She was a woman. And she’d ached for touch, anyone’s touch, and had
    been too frightened to defy Dayle by accepting a lover.
    So she had touched herself. Something she hadn’t done since Dayle had al owed Nadine to touch her.
    She bit her lip and paced to the kitchen. She fought the memories, but they were there. The way Nadine pul ed her T-shirt over her breasts, loosened
    her jeans. And Janey hadn’t been able to fight her.
    She leaned against the table, pressing her hand over her mouth to hold back the instinctive need to be sick. She could barely tolerate touch since that,
    even her own. Until tonight. And tonight, nothing had fil ed her head but Alex’s touch.
    There had never been anything more frightening in her life than being unable to move, unable to fight, forced to let that evil bitch touch her.
    And Dayle had just watched.
    A sob tore from her throat. He had just watched, amused, indulging his depraved sister with affectionate humor.
    â€œI hate you!†She yel ed the words, her hand jerking a kitchen chair from the table and slinging it with jerky strength across the floor.
    It crashed into the wal as she pressed her fists into her stomach and fought the tears that would have fal en from her eyes.
    She wasn’t crying. She hadn’t cried since the day it happened, and she wouldn’t cry now. She would be okay. By morning, she’d have
    her control back in place, she’d bury the hurt and the pain and force that mask on her face, and she’d do al the things Dayle had refused to al ow
    her to do as she grew up.
    Tomorrow, the restaurant was closed. She had a girls’ night out with one of the few people she had ever connected with as a friend. Drinks and
    snacks at the local bar. She’d never been to a bar. Music and wild men acting like fools, she was told.
    The thought was terrifying, but she would do it. Because she wasn’t dead. Because there was so much she had never done, and she needed to
    learn how to live.
    She didn’t need to learn how to want Alex Jansen, though. That was a recipe for disaster.
    As she stood there, she heard a plaintive meow from outside, a demanding sound and the pad of soft little paws against the door as the monster stray
    tapped impatiently.
    â€œDecide to come visit me again?†Janey cal ed out in a shaky voice as she moved to the door and opened it to al ow into the house the mangy,
    overgrown cat that had somehow managed to target her.
    She shook her head as he moved to the food bowl in the corner of the room. As he ate, she showered, changed into loose pajamas, and returned to
    the living room, where the large orange male cat was curled up on her couch.
    She knew the routine. She sat down on the other side, turned on the television, and waited.
    Stil wary, the cat crept across the couch, watching her from slitted, narrowed eyes. Warning her not to dare to touch him. She watched the news, one
    arm propped on the arm of the couch, watching the animal from the corner of her eye.
    He was beautiful. Scarred, ragged. The tip of one ear was missing; his nose had a thin scar through it. But his fur wasn’t matted anymore. He had
    cleaned himself up nice, and she had managed to secure a flea col ar around his neck a week ago.
    He growled as he neared her, and she ignored him, because she knew he was al bluff. If she moved her arm or shifted to him, he’d take a swipe at
    her,