Wildly Inappropriate by Eden Connor Read Free Book Online Page A

could rub the burning sensation.
    Ignoring her plea, he picked up another peach. This one came from the bottom of the basket, one he'd picked from a different grove. It was huge for a peach, and she eyed the skin apprehensively as she squeezed her thighs together, but the fuzz seemed minimal. He sliced it open and showed her the halves. A flick of his thumbnail popped the stone loose. The narrow band of red flesh in the center looked spiny and stiff where it mirrored the pattern of the stone.
    "So, he developed this variety, but it doesn't taste nearly as good." He held one of the halves to her lips, and Cynda obediently took a small bite. It seemed nearly tasteless compared with the other, but was very juicy.
    "Not as good as the other one," she agreed, trying to stifle a moan. It felt as though a thousand tiny bees were stinging her nipples.
    "Even worse," he continued, slicing off a portion of the half she'd bitten, "the flesh near the center of this variety is very tough."
    She wondered whether he'd make her eat it.
    "This part is tough and chewy and that makes people spit it out. Who'd want a freestone peach that had a heart of stone? That's what he named this variety, Stony Heart. They make delicious pies. He intended to crossbreed the two varieties, but by then, peach farming had become unprofitable."
    He wedged his foot between hers, tapping his boot against her ankle. She reluctantly spread her legs. His hand disappeared from view, and she felt the warm fruit touch her. The sensation was one of tiny rubbery fingers sliding across her sensitive nub.
    Cynda tried to push her mound toward the slice of fruit. She thought the juice might soothe the stinging sensation caused by the fuzz, but he kept the stroke soft and even, rubbing the slice so slowly across her nub that she cried out with frustration.
    He lifted his wrist and looked at his watch. "Straight up noon. Your hour starts now."
    "What?" she demanded in disbelief.
    "Your hour. Look down that valley, Cynda Avery, and tell me all your very good reasons why I need to sell this land."
    "Now?"
    He nodded, grinning. "Right now. Unless, of course, you want to give up today's hour."
    She couldn't do that, but it was a good thing he'd tied her hands. She thought about kicking him square in the nuts, but something told her he'd spank her ass till she cried if she did. She wrapped her fingers around the cords, wondering whether she might be able to tug them loose. If she could get loose, she might try to wrap them around his damn neck.
    All she could do was stand there. He bent to pick up one of the slices of the fuzzier fruit. She watched him warily, trying to think. "This isn't fair," she burst out.
    "Pardon my manners." He offered her the slice. She bit into it, stalling for time while she tried to get her mind off her pussy and onto business. He wiped juice from her bottom lip with his thumb. Inspiration struck as the unique taste hit her tongue.
    "Someone could finish your grandfather's work. Crossbreed the peaches and see if they come out right, I mean."
    His brows went up. "Uh huh. So you're telling me you have a customer who wants to grow peaches? Spread your legs wider."
    "No-oo, I didn't say that." She widened her stance marginally, concerned about what he'd do next.
    He stabbed the air with the knife, pointing toward the fruit overhead. "Fewer than ten percent of these peaches escaped being damaged by the hail, and it might've hailed for twenty minutes. That's only twenty minutes to ruin an entire year's crop. I doubt you have a customer who wants to operate a peach farm, Cynda."
    She had no idea why King wanted this land. The broken branches and dead trees scattered throughout the orchard showed neglect. The ghostly camp for the migrant workers they'd driven through to get here obviously hadn't been used in years, yet he'd pointed out all the storm damage he planned to fix. Why waste the effort if no one was going to use the place?
    "The money, think about the