With Just Cause by Jackie Ivie Read Free Book Online

he’d already shed his leather vest and
almost finished unfastening his shirt, showing lots of skin and
tons of muscle. He hadn’t moved toward the bed, either. He stood
closer to the doors. And every bit of candlelight about him put him
on display. Deandra licked her lips.
    “You can just hold on right there, Cowboy,”
she told him.
    He looked up, slight creases touching his
forehead, as his black-shaded eyes snagged hers. Deandra’s heart
did that elevator drop thing, taking her breath with it. Several
seconds elapsed before she had enough air back to make words. He
didn’t help. He just stood there, waiting. And then her mouth
filled the gap with more words her mind wasn’t clearing.
    “I get to do the unwrapping here. Get
it?”
    His head pulled back, and what was probably
surprise flit across his features. And then he sucked in both
cheeks to give her a really slow smile, one that slipped sharp
canines into his lower lip. Deandra pulsed in place, a wellspring
tossed moisture through her, while spikes of heat hit her skin.
Everywhere. All at once. With vicious effect. She felt wicked.
Intensely stirred. Wanton. And the stranger she’d turned into
wanted more. Legions more.
    “Oh, good. You
do
get it.”
    She sauntered toward him, closing the
distance with a slowness that extended her pulse rate, making each
beat take longer. Thicker. Stronger. Deeper. Putting a drum cadence
through her ears and from there out into the chamber.
    He hadn’t moved. He still watched her with
lowered chin, sending a shadow across his face from his hat brim.
Deandra stopped within embracing distance and lifted her finger to
his hat. He didn’t watch her movement. He stayed focused on her
eyes. She knew it. Sensed it. Reveled in it.
    She pushed at the brim, and the hat slid. He
moved with a speed she couldn’t follow, catching a finger beneath
the chin strap so the hat didn’t fall. And then he reached up and
lifted it off with one arm. One very well-defined arm. She watched
him flick a glance to his hat as if checking for damage before
leaning past her to store it somewhere behind her, flexing all
sorts of muscle while he did so.
    She didn’t check. She didn’t move her eyes
from really long, well-developed legs that were getting very well
defined by the move through the denims he wore. She almost purred
when he’d finished. Grimm Bradley. Hmm...
    Deanne stepped a hairsbreadth closer. He
jerked slightly as she slipped a hand through the hair at his
forehead. He had coal black hair. Glossy. Straight. With a widow’s
peak at the top of his forehead. She wasn’t certain on the length
since it was behind his ears, but it didn’t look overly long, or
too short. Maybe collar length. It was thick. And dented slightly
from where his hat had creased it.
    The color exactly matched his lashes, the
shade of his eyes, and the shadow of whisker growth atop his lip.
Deandra licked at her bottom lip. Wow. The guy was better than
gorgeous. She’d have to think of a proper word. She put an index
finger on the spot below his throat where he’d opened his shirt and
then started sliding down the opening. And everywhere she touched
tingled. Sparked. Fizzed. The feeling was akin to touching an
effervescent tablet with a wet finger, or something. And he wasn’t
helping. He was trembling in place.
    Damn. He wore an undershirt.
    Deandra’s explorations stopped at the cotton
garment and she started moving along the hem, tugging away his
shirt even more. Exploring. Thrilling. Grimm had impressive pecs.
Very impressive. Hard. Yet malleable. Striations erupted beneath
her finger as she moved along him. She felt the muscles tensing.
Tightening. Oh my.
    “This... isn’t a good idea.”
    The rumble of his words transferred to her
finger, making it vibrate against his skin.
    “You’re joking, right?” she replied.
    Deandra brought her other hand to his button
placket, pulled the tail from where he’d tucked it, and then
finished unfastening it. His