[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
He raised an eyebrow and grinned at her. No. But it counts as number five. Looks like we ve got
plans for tomorrow night.
She took a large gulp of wine. You re moving too fast. We re not done with our game. What s my
favorite color?
They re not going to ask that.
Favorite color is something a fiancé would know.
Fine. The yellow underwear popped into his mind. I ll go out on a limb and say yellow.
Drink. She tapped her wineglass to his empty beer bottle. It s a trick question. I love so many
colors I couldn t possibly choose a favorite.
All right, cheater. He took her glass and drank deeply, not so much because he liked Chardonnay,
but because he didn t want her waking up with a headache tomorrow. What s my favorite color?
Her eyes raked him up and down, but, considering he wore camouflage pants and a plain white T-
shirt, he figured his outfit offered precious few clues. She scanned his apartment and took in a couple
of framed photographs one of his copilots took of the Hindu Kush Mountains at sunrise, bathed in
shades of blue and white. Blue?
Just lately, I ve found myself partial to gray.
Gray? She frowned, obviously disappointed. Dull, not-quite-black, not-quite-white gray?
Sure. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and stared at her. I never really
appreciated all the amazing nuances of gray until I saw your eyes. When you re amused, they sparkle
like polished silver. When you re upset, they go dark and opaque, like thunderheads stacked along the
horizon of a winter sky. And my personal favorite, he lifted the wineglass from her fingers and took
a swallow, all the while watching her pulse flutter at the base of her throat, when you re turned on,
those eyes of yours go soft and smoky.
The gray eyes in question stared at him. She blinked slowly. Wow& that s pretty good bullshit.
The scary part was his response involved none whatsoever. He forced a smile. You think?
She nodded.
Awesome. He handed her back her empty wineglass and pulled out his phone. You heat up the
lasagna. I m going to text the colonel and tell him we ll see them tomorrow night.
Oh, God. Okay. She shot up and wiped her palms on her shorts. Tell them we re bringing a
homemade apple cobbler, and
We are?
Yes, that s my one dessert specialty. And ask if there s anything else we can bring, she said as
she retreated to the kitchen.
They invited us, Chlo. I think they ve got it covered. And you don t have to put yourself out
cooking. I m going to the gym tomorrow morning with my friend Dane. I ll stop at the store on my way
home and pick up a nice bottle of wine as a hostess gift.
It s polite to offer, she said as she preheated the oven, and a homemade dessert says your
fiancée is the type of woman who makes the extra effort. She started looking through cabinets.
Shoot. I have to put together a list of things I ll need for the cobbler. If you re stopping by the store
anyway, will you pick up some things for me?
Sure. Shit. She was getting all wound up again. He could feel the nerves radiating off her all the
way from his safe zone in the living room. He hit send on the text and then pocketed his phone and
wandered into the kitchen. He found her bent over, sliding the casserole dish into the oven. Maybe he
startled her or maybe drinking games and hot ovens didn t mix, but she suddenly hissed in a breath,
yanked her hand back, and brought her wrist to her mouth. The oven door snapped closed.
Here. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her to the sink, then turned on the cold water,
stepped behind her, and held her wrist under the spray. She flinched when the cold water hit the burn,
which caused her body to jerk against his, which, in turn, caused a predictable reaction from his dick.
Talk about making up for lost time. After weeks of dormancy, Chloe showed up, and he d had a near
constant hard-on ever since.
He held her a little tighter. Hold still. Let the water cool the burn for a few minutes. With his
arms wrapped around her, they both stared down at the side of her wrist, where a red welt from the
hot oven rack rose on her skin.
Stupid, she said, shaking her head.
Her hair brushed his jaw and a few strands tangled in his five o clock shadow. He fought a sudden
compulsion to bury his face against the back of her neck and just drink her in, scent and sensation.
Hey, Romeo, maybe you could do that when she s not suffering from a second-degree burn?
An accident, he corrected, speaking softly while forcing himself to back off, could happen to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
He raised an eyebrow and grinned at her. No. But it counts as number five. Looks like we ve got
plans for tomorrow night.
She took a large gulp of wine. You re moving too fast. We re not done with our game. What s my
favorite color?
They re not going to ask that.
Favorite color is something a fiancé would know.
Fine. The yellow underwear popped into his mind. I ll go out on a limb and say yellow.
Drink. She tapped her wineglass to his empty beer bottle. It s a trick question. I love so many
colors I couldn t possibly choose a favorite.
All right, cheater. He took her glass and drank deeply, not so much because he liked Chardonnay,
but because he didn t want her waking up with a headache tomorrow. What s my favorite color?
Her eyes raked him up and down, but, considering he wore camouflage pants and a plain white T-
shirt, he figured his outfit offered precious few clues. She scanned his apartment and took in a couple
of framed photographs one of his copilots took of the Hindu Kush Mountains at sunrise, bathed in
shades of blue and white. Blue?
Just lately, I ve found myself partial to gray.
Gray? She frowned, obviously disappointed. Dull, not-quite-black, not-quite-white gray?
Sure. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and stared at her. I never really
appreciated all the amazing nuances of gray until I saw your eyes. When you re amused, they sparkle
like polished silver. When you re upset, they go dark and opaque, like thunderheads stacked along the
horizon of a winter sky. And my personal favorite, he lifted the wineglass from her fingers and took
a swallow, all the while watching her pulse flutter at the base of her throat, when you re turned on,
those eyes of yours go soft and smoky.
The gray eyes in question stared at him. She blinked slowly. Wow& that s pretty good bullshit.
The scary part was his response involved none whatsoever. He forced a smile. You think?
She nodded.
Awesome. He handed her back her empty wineglass and pulled out his phone. You heat up the
lasagna. I m going to text the colonel and tell him we ll see them tomorrow night.
Oh, God. Okay. She shot up and wiped her palms on her shorts. Tell them we re bringing a
homemade apple cobbler, and
We are?
Yes, that s my one dessert specialty. And ask if there s anything else we can bring, she said as
she retreated to the kitchen.
They invited us, Chlo. I think they ve got it covered. And you don t have to put yourself out
cooking. I m going to the gym tomorrow morning with my friend Dane. I ll stop at the store on my way
home and pick up a nice bottle of wine as a hostess gift.
It s polite to offer, she said as she preheated the oven, and a homemade dessert says your
fiancée is the type of woman who makes the extra effort. She started looking through cabinets.
Shoot. I have to put together a list of things I ll need for the cobbler. If you re stopping by the store
anyway, will you pick up some things for me?
Sure. Shit. She was getting all wound up again. He could feel the nerves radiating off her all the
way from his safe zone in the living room. He hit send on the text and then pocketed his phone and
wandered into the kitchen. He found her bent over, sliding the casserole dish into the oven. Maybe he
startled her or maybe drinking games and hot ovens didn t mix, but she suddenly hissed in a breath,
yanked her hand back, and brought her wrist to her mouth. The oven door snapped closed.
Here. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her to the sink, then turned on the cold water,
stepped behind her, and held her wrist under the spray. She flinched when the cold water hit the burn,
which caused her body to jerk against his, which, in turn, caused a predictable reaction from his dick.
Talk about making up for lost time. After weeks of dormancy, Chloe showed up, and he d had a near
constant hard-on ever since.
He held her a little tighter. Hold still. Let the water cool the burn for a few minutes. With his
arms wrapped around her, they both stared down at the side of her wrist, where a red welt from the
hot oven rack rose on her skin.
Stupid, she said, shaking her head.
Her hair brushed his jaw and a few strands tangled in his five o clock shadow. He fought a sudden
compulsion to bury his face against the back of her neck and just drink her in, scent and sensation.
Hey, Romeo, maybe you could do that when she s not suffering from a second-degree burn?
An accident, he corrected, speaking softly while forcing himself to back off, could happen to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]