Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page B

I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to them in their pursuit to catch this asshole. The mere thought of either of them getting hurt because some psychopath is out to get me makes me sick.
    I place my hand over my stomach feeling nauseous and dizzier than before. I turn to Michael, who’s standing over me like a protective lion safeguarding his mate, and I sigh. He is going to be a handful.
    “Ariana, you should go lie down. You seem rather pale, and your eyes are glazed.”
    “I’m okay, Michael,” I say, waving a hand dismissively.
    “No, you’re not. I’m concerned about the substance you ingested. You don’t look well,” he replies with a sharp tone. He releases a heavy sigh and brushes the long bangs away from my face, causing my breath to hitch.
    “I’m fine. Now stop fussing.” I turn away from Michael to get some distance and trip over my own two feet. He grabs me by the waist, and pulls me hard into his arms before I could hit the floor. I freeze except for my heart, which is pounding within my chest as I feel his strong, warm body pressed to mine. It’s . . . intoxicating.
    “Ariana, let me help you. You’re a bit unstable,” he murmurs into my ear and all I want to do is melt into his skin. I shake my head to rid these erotic thoughts, but it’s useless.
    “Enough, Michael.” I push my hands against his chest and walk toward the bedroom. An embarrassing and a misfortunate moment for me, the wall decides to relocate, causing me to walk right into the barrier. Ouch! Damn him, I knew he was a health hazard.
    He huffs out, coating me with his warm breath, and in one swift move, my feet are off the ground and I’m in his arms, too disoriented to fight him.
    “Where is your bedroom?” His voice grows harsher.
    I groan and for a moment, I am lost in his scent as his fresh out-of-the-shower smell lingers beneath my nostrils inebriating me to the point that it takes me a few seconds to process what he just asked me.
    “Through the library you’ll see a set of double doors,” I explain pointing toward an entrance joined to the living room.
    He pushes through the entryway into an oval-shaped room enclosed in ceiling-to-floor windows, bestowing a view of Central Park and Lincoln Center.
    Most of my furnishings are decorated with hand-painted flowers over mahogany. Although I didn’t need window treatments for my bedroom, I felt adding elegant, pale yellow sheer drapes, which pool at the polished parquet floor, gave it a romantic ambiance. The two sets of French doors encased with thick cherry wood lead to a wraparound terrace. In the center of the room stands a king-sized bed I purchased in Thailand along with a navy blue silk duvet and an array of white and canary floral-printed pillows.
    With pristine care, Michael settles me over the bed. He stands looming over me, shaking his head. “You’re a very stubborn woman, Ariana.”
    “I could say the same for you,” I say with sarcasm, and he tilts his head to the side with a raised eyebrow glaring at me as if he’s entertaining the thought to say something to me and sure enough he does.
    “I should place you over my knee and slap that hide of yours.”
    “You wouldn’t dare.” I gasp, not just at his comment but also at the picture that I just painted in my mind of me laying across his lap with his hands on my ass. Ah! I have to control these x-rated scenes whipping through my head.
    “Try me. I’m always up for the challenge, Ariana, and you, with-out-a-doubt are challenging.”
    “Big bully,” I say loud enough for his ears to hear.
    He chuckles. “Do you need help?” he inquires, pointing toward my attire with a sexy curve to his lips.
    “No, I am perfectly capable of changing myself. Thank you very much,” I answer with a cynical tone. I stand, and I lose my balance. He pulls me hard up against his heated chest and I dissolve into his arms.
    I stare into his white shirt, and my eyes follow the trail of buttons up to