Read Online Hottie by Demi Alex, Tia Fanning - Free Book Online Page A

have a rain check?”
    “Sure,” he said, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Does that mean you’re planning on staying?”
    “Well, how could I drive off into the sunset without a car?”
    “True, sweetheart. You do need a car to drive off.” Hottie shrugged and let her go. He walked to the fridge, opened the door, and retrieved two beers. “I guess you’re stuck with me at least until the parts get here.”
    A jar of spaghetti sauce stood guard over a pot of pasta in boiling water, so she saddled up behind him and fit herself against his tight ass, reached past him, making sure the length of her arm brushed across his groin, and pulled out the Parmesan cheese. “I guess I’ll have to make the best of it.”
    She could get used to him. Hottie was not only “hot”, but he was also addicting. With each little taste, she craved a feast. Her heart was in free fall. Her body still wanted more. Could she handle more?
    “Not tonight,” he mysteriously answered her unasked question, straightening and turning to look at her.
    “No more? You’re not interested in playing a little more?”
    “Sex? Ah, baby, you’re going to be sore. So, no, no more tonight.” He grinned and rubbed up against her, lingering and teasing in a very playful manner. “I need to give you something to look forward to.”
    “Is that so?”
    He nodded and did a bad job at hiding his smile. “I can’t keep giving into you. Besides, my grandma used to say women won’t buy a cow that gives its milk away for free.”
    “You stink at relaying sayings.” Phoebe had to laugh with him. He’d really messed that one up, but the real fun was in the feigned surprise in his eyes. They grew dark, the pupils dilated, and he managed to look demure and shy. “But, you’re cute.”
    “Why thank you, ma’am.” With the two bottles of beer dangling between his fingers, he back-kicked the fridge door, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. The cold glass soothed her bum, so she arched closer to him. “You’re rather cute yourself.”
    Hottie claimed her mouth, slowly, masterfully, and certainly turning her legs to jelly. Impossible to resist, she found a peculiar sense of safety and comfort in his kiss. Way too comfortable in his embrace, Phoebe questioned the wisdom of growing attached to a temporary fling. She placed her hands flat against his chest.
    “I want you,” he groaned, his mouth dipping to her neck and setting her skin on fire. “But I’m happy to wait. So, I’m going to feed you, hold you in my arms while we watch the moon rise, then tuck you into bed so you can sleep with a smile on your face.”
    “I’m not accustomed to so much attention,” she said, damning her caution and raising her hands to run her palms over his hair and hold him to her. “You need to stop, or you’re going to spoil me and never get rid of me.”
    Groaning his own version of verbal restraint, he moved his lips to the swell above her chest, ran his tongue over the heated flesh, then suckled and caused her skin to tingle and her blood to rise to the surface. “I like your company, sweetheart. Who says I want you to go?”
    * * * *
    Repeatedly touching him during their candlelit dinner, Phoebe assured herself he was real. Truth was the day’s events were too good to be true, so she didn’t take it for granted they were sitting together at the kitchen table and gazing into each other’s eyes. The spaghetti was the most delicious meal she’d ever had, and the beer danced over her taste buds like champagne. The shrink-wrapped cupcakes proved to melt in her mouth, too.
    They talked about everything and anything. Her brief job as a copy writer for a corporate monster, his multiple tours of duty, her plans to finish her novel and make chic-lit popular again, and his plans to restore classic and antique vehicles, then flood the market with the beauties.
    Phoebe chose a movie On-Demand, and they settled on the couch to watch the