For Richer for Poorer Read Free

imprint that told her what was between those muscular thighs. If the bump on her head didn't kill her, the size of his manhood certainly might.
     
                  Sweet death. She smiled a secret smile to herself.
     
                  Hamilton looked into her eyes.  She was a pretty woman. He wanted to taste her lips, soft, slow, to make her pain go away.
     
                  "What's the prognosis?" she asked, almost out of breath with his closeness.
     
                  "You'll live," he smiled. "Don't worry, you'll be fine," he said in a husky voice.
     
                  "Why thank you very much, Dr. Steele," she heard herself flirt.
     
                  He chuckled and reach out his hand. "I want you to know what's going on up here.  Come on up, take a look-see."
     
                  Miranda peered into the darkness of the little room with the slanted ceilings.  She looked to the left and then to the right. "No, I'll take your word for it," she sang, getting ready to head back down the stairs.
     
                  "Come on, Miss Colbert," he insisted.  "There's nothing up here to harm you.  He reached his wide hand down to her matter-of-factly, as he'd probably done to that little sister of his a million times.  "Hold on, I've got you," he ordered.
     
                  There was something about him she trusted. She reached her hand out and let him pull her up.  In her effort to keep the bag of ice on her head, she almost toppled both of them over. But Hamilton caught her and held her in his arms, letting the flashlight fall to the floor. Her soft body was hot against his massive chest as the ice bag fell to the floor. She felt her breasts swelling as his arms swooped to the small of her back and pulled her tight against him. She felt the pressure of his groin between her legs through her Lycra shorts.
     
                  "Are you alright?" he asked, not wanting to let her go.
     
                  "I think I dropped my ice," she said, conscious of his scent, his touch, his strength. Her arms were locked tight around a neck that felt like concrete to keep from falling through the ceiling floor.
     
                  "I've got you," he said in a raspy voice.
     
                  "I know." Her voice was almost a whisper.  Hamilton felt his pulse rising as her soft, hot body dangled from him. 
     
                  A phone could be heard ringing. They stood there, in the darkness, in each others arms.
     
                  "I think it's your phone," Miranda said, after the third ring. 
     
                  Neither of them wanted to move. "I think you're right." Hamilton sighed and pulled the cell phone from the holder on his belt.  Miranda let him go and eased down to grab the flashlight from the floor between his legs.  She pointed it in the direction of the chimney. 
     
                  Hamilton checked the missed call.  "It was a client, Ms. Elliott," he said. I'll call her back when we're done up here." 
     
                  He took the flashlight from Miranda and guided her to the chimney, pointing out where the moisture was coming in. He said it was likely the sheet metal cap or flashing. He said he'd have to get on the roof to check it out.  Hamilton was pleasantly surprised to learn she knew exactly what he was talking about.
     
                  After a few minutes, they were back downstairs in the living room. Neither of them could get the closeness in the attic out of their minds.
     

 
    Chapter 2
                 
                  Hamilton sat on the couch in the living room. He wanted to take a few notes before calling his client back. But the phone rang again. 
     
                  "Yes, Ms. Elliott," Hamilton said into the phone. Miranda could hear panic in