Gemini Heat Read Free

conventional sgpsp.- Hep-beanTy-loving friend was a beauty himself, the near perfection of his features flawed only by a-thin white scar that scored his left temple from brow to hairline. This and his strange slanted eyes - so oriental in a western face - set an unassailable new standard of maleness; as did his reddish, rather full-lipped mouth and a nose that was strong and straight, but with an ever-so-slight and impish up-turn.
    Almost without thinking, she glanced down towards his groin, wondering what his cock would be like. She'd never set much store by old wive's tales, but with his long slender hands and that bold, pointed nose, she imagined he'd have a penis with similar characteristics. Long but slender, and with a naughty probing glans that would go soul-deep inside a woman and caress her right at her core. He was wearing a pair of tight, narrow-cut, black leather trousers, and where they skimmed his crotch there was a substantial, extenuated bulge that tended to lend credence to her ramblings.
    Of course he had to catch her looking . . .
    Flicking his gaze down to his own leather covered loins, her companion than panned upwards again, slowly and infuriatingly. His smile was faint but disgustingly and complacently a man's. Without shame, he was cataloguing her charms as thoroughly as she'd checked out his. More so. And for all his beauty and his sensual chemistry, Deana could have quite happily punched him in the mouth.
    Men. They were all such vain swines . . . Even if they had every cause to be so.
    'Seen enough?' she retorted.
    'No. Not really. But then again, the night is young . . .' The slight smile became a broad bright grin that hit Deana square in the solar plexus - as well as in some other more critical areas. She felt herself heat up. Melt. Run.
    'Come along, my dear,' he said, reaching out to take her free hand. 'Let's look at some art instead. The very best exhibits are up here, and you and I have got them all to ourselves.'
    He started with surprise when their fingers touched, and Deana smiled, enjoying the tiniest of advantages.
    'You're so warm,' he said, taking hold of her hand and stretching out her arm. He seemed to study it as a curious artefact for a moment, then he ran the fingertips of his free hand all the way up from her wrist to her bare shoulders in one smooth, continuous caress. The long stroke felt deliciously soft and cool, but she knew that to him, her flesh would feel hot. 'Do you have a fever? Or is it something else?' His dark blue gaze bored into her, as if ordering her to say he was the source of the heat.
    Deana didn't give him the satisfaction. 'I have a higher than normal body temperature. It's a family trait. It's nothing to do with you, if that's what you're thinking.' Realising she was still clutching her glass of wine, she raised it to her lips for Dutch courage.
    But before she could drink, her companion took the glass from her, and proposed a toast.
    'Here's to heat then,' he murmured softly, 'especially hot women.' He took a sip of her wine, his brown throat undulating voluptuously as it went down, then he held the glass to her lips, touching her mouth with its chilly rim and forcing her to drink down its contents.
    Something went flip in Deana's belly. Men never treated her like this, they were usually slightly in awe of her. But this dark stranger had bent her to his will in the simplest of ways within only a few minutes of meeting him. She drank obediently until the glass was empty, then stood like a doll as he swooped down, placed it on the floor beside them, then stood up again just as quickly and wiped her lips with a flick of his fingers.
    'What's your name, fellow art-lover?' he asked, his velvet voice far more potent than the wine.
    'D—' She almost said it, but in the micro-second before she completed her name, her interior alarm bell started clanging. Maybe it didn't matter, but wasn't she supposed to be 'Delia' here?'
    'Dee/ she answered after a momentary