Mandy's He-Man Read Free

sort of optional extra that you put on your car. It’s mah-jen-tah !” She enunciated the word as if speaking to a slow-learning child. “What is it about Aussie men that they have to shorten surnames into some sort of nickname? It’s really not very imaginative—and I am not drunk!” she seethed.
    Mandy turned her back on him and put the key in the lock, opened her front door and walked inside.
    JT had felt the loss immediately when she’d struggled from his grasp, but he turned to leave. Although disappointed the night was over, he was glad the fight had come back into Mandy’s amazing eyes. He was still not able to put his finger on what it was about her eyes that attracted him. Lost in his own thoughts, he was surprised to hear the challenge in her voice as she called out to him.
    “Hey, He-Man, where are you going? You too chicken to come inside?”
    Mandy stood back, as if to give him room to pass by and enter her home. She stood with her hands on her curvy hips and looked at him with one eyebrow raised questioningly.
    “What could it hurt?”JT grinned as he stepped towards the little spitfire.
    Standing just inside the door, JT looked around the room. The layout was similar to Caitlin Walters’ flat on the ground floor of the same building, but the décor was nothing like it. Mandy’s living room was chaos. Easels, paint and paintbrushes littered the room. Canvases of all sizes—some used and some still blank—leaned against the walls. Splashes of colour seemed to be everywhere.
    It took JT a moment to realise that he was in a studio. Mandy Magenta was an artist, and judging by what he could see, she did it all—portraits, still life, landscape, abstract…it was all there. Including what looked, in JT’s opinion, to be a painting of a giant penis.
     

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Mandy closed the door and waited for JT’s reaction to her flat. Looking around as if through his eyes, she could see that it would appear cluttered, but she knew it was clean. Dirt and dust were not good for wet paint.
    With him just standing there, his back so close, she couldn’t resist any longer and had to run her hands over the well-defined muscle formation. She could see those protruding ridges stretching the lines of his shirt. He looked so powerful, so masculine. Mandy was almost drooling at the thought of copying his likeness to canvas. She was a little distracted by her own imagination, so when he spun her around and grabbed at her hands, halting their explorations over him, she jumped.
    “Whoa there, wait a minute, woman. A man normally likes to take the lead in this sort of thing.” JT spoke in an amused but throaty voice.
    Mandy looked up at him, confused and a little annoyed. He held her hands in his, a little above her head, his grip firm but still gentle. Strangely, she did not feel even a flicker of fear.
    “You have the most impressive body I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing up close. I just wanted to feel every shape, ridge and roped muscle beneath my fingers,” Mandy enthused. “The colours you are creating in my head are unbelievable. I want—no, need —to see you nude. To imprint that picture in my memory. You are the perfect specimen of everything that is male.”
    Although speaking earnestly, honestly, her voice came out sounding rather husky to her own ears.
    JT released the hold he had on her hands. He picked her up and pushed her against the wall, his mouth closing in on Mandy’s lips. JT kissed her hungrily, nipping at her bottom lip until she opened up for him.
    Mandy wasn’t sure what had hit her. But as that hard, hot mouth descended on hers she immediately felt the connection. The colours exploded through her mind. A kaleidoscope of vermillion reds and bright oranges combined in vibrant patterns that resembled flames licking at her. Scorching her. Her body was also on fire, fevered, the heat so intense that it was as if her skin was being stroked by hot embers. The feeling of