Penmort Castle by Kristen Ashley Read Free Book Online

time
rubbing his uncle’s nose in his many failures and securing what was
rightfully his.
    And she was
going to satisfy him in bed as many times as he could manage in the
one week she was available to him.
    And then she’d
be gone.
    Dinner, it went
without saying, had not been enjoyable.
    Not that the
food wasn’t delicious, because it was.
    Not that her
company wasn’t enjoyable, because it was, both innately (she
continued to be a bundle of contradictions, cold and
unapproachable, mixed with warm and amusing), as well as
conversationally (she was clearly well-read and well-travelled with
a capacity to listen, actively, and share, if only
superficially).
    Not that she
wasn’t earning her pay because no one in that restaurant,
witnessing her behaviour (her soft, enticing smiles; the times
she’d touch his hand while speaking; when she’d lean toward him
with avid attention as if his terse, impatient responses to her
soft conversation were utterly fascinating), would think she was
anything less than a woman clearly smitten with her dinner
partner.
    He’d paid six
thousand, six hundred and sixty six pounds for that night with her
not including the exorbitant bill for dinner and she’d earned every
penny.
    The waiter came
with their coats and Cash stood, relieving the waiter of his burden
and throwing his overcoat on his chair. He shook out Abby’s cape
and moved around her so she could remain where she was. Once behind
her, he positioned the heavy garment on her shoulders as she moved
slightly back into his body, getting closer to him. This was not to
make his task easier but a show to those watching, including the
three photographers he earlier saw positioning themselves outside,
that this was an act of intimacy between a man and his lover, not
one of chivalry.
    She wasn’t just
good, Cash thought with growing disgust, she was superb.
    And this made
Cash even angrier.
    She fastened
the cape at her throat and put on her gloves while he donned his
overcoat then gripped her elbow, leading her out of the restaurant
with all eyes on them.
    He could
visualise them together. Abby was blonde, tall and elegant but
tonight in that alluring dress that hinted at the body beneath it
rather than brazenly displaying it as her clothing did yesterday,
she showed she had a unique, individual style. Cash was dark and
much taller but not overpowering her with his height as he did with
most women, and men for that matter.
    He knew they
made an exceptional-looking couple. It was part of the package he’d
paid for.
    They were out
into the night and he was not looking forward to the drive to take
her home.
    He would want
to come in and make two efforts. The first would be getting her to
open up to him. The second would be getting her to sleep with
him.
    Neither, Cash
knew at this juncture, would succeed.
    And Cash was
used to success, failure was not an option. But he knew that would
be what he’d face if he pressed her.
    And he didn’t
like this either.
    They’d only
taken two steps on the pavement when Abby, as if oblivious to the
now descending photographers, curled into him. She put her hand to
his stomach and he stopped at her bold touch, his head tilting down
toward her.
    She was smiling
at him.
    Not one of her
composed, controlled smiles. This one was radiant and lighting up
the night, as if she was happy, carefree and deeply in love.
    At the sight
something in his gut clenched and it was a feeling he’d never felt
before in his entire life.
    The feeling
wasn’t painful, instead it was supremely pleasant.
    Unusually
caught off guard by her smile and his response to it, he didn’t
react as she came up to her toes, leaning into him, her breasts
pressing against his arm as she tipped her head back, her eyes
slightly closed, her lips lightly parted, her entire face an
invitation.
    Without willing
himself to do it and completely unable to stop himself if he’d
tried (which he didn’t), his head bent and as she intended, doing
the