Master for Tonight Read Free Page B

moment, she continued to breathe deeply with the mantra on
fast repeat in her mind and on her silent lips, until she was able
to again breathe normally.
    Opening her eyes, Kate lifted them to look
at the man taking up much of her couch. He was sitting back, eyes
closed, still as a statue. Part of his slightly curly hair was
hanging in his face, long enough to almost touch his chiseled and
stubbly jaw. His facial hair looked longer and softer than day-old
stubble, but wasn’t long enough to be considered a full beard. His
skin was a beautiful mix of olive and bronze that belied a mixed
heritage. His nose, a Romanesque resemblance. Lips, a burnished red
and lush—lips that a lover would sink into when kissing.
    Her gaze traveled down his face to his neck,
which held a thin leather cord with an emblem of a demon as the
pendant. He wore a crisp, white shirt with the top few buttons
undone, exposing the beginnings of a hard, hairless chest. The
shirt was tight enough that she could see the muscles underneath.
He was handsome and built, but not overly so. Black pants covered
his long legs.
    He exuded maleness from his entire body—that
certain quality some men have in their DNA that makes a woman
recognize her femininity…her ‘womanness.’ That part of her that is
soft, malleable, and made to accept his penetration. To Kate, he
resembled a dark angel, beautiful and dangerous. She felt an
intense physical attraction to him, in spite of the
circumstances.
    She wondered what in hell that man was doing
there with her, of all women. He was remarkable in every physical
way to her, and when he spoke, his British accent spiraled through
her body in ways which made her shiver, not all of them fearfully.
There was no doubt, he could charm his way into any woman’s
panties. So what was he doing there? He should be out at a club,
picking women from a line-up made just for him.
    Kate wasn’t some 21-year-old, tight-bodied
sorority girl. She was a 38-year-old woman whose parts had started
to shift a bit over time. She worked out when she had the time and
took general care of herself, but she didn’t spend time at the gym
like that guy did. The more she thought about their physical
differences, the more bewildered she became about him, and more
insecure about herself. Not that Kate thought she was unattractive.
She didn’t. She knew she was pretty, and maybe even beautiful.
Still, she was just like most women who saw more cons than pros
when she looked in the mirror, and she allowed those thoughts to
undermine her self-esteem.
    He’s so out of my
league. He’s insane. That’s the only
logical answer to why he’s here. I’m nothing special to look at. At
least, not compared to him.
    She realized with a shock, she had been
staring at his crotch during all the time she’d spent mulling
things over in her mind, and she looked away, blushing at her
absent-mindedness.
    Her eyes wandered over his corded arms, to
his large hands, which were flexing while he clenched and
unclenched his fists, as if in nervous energy, holding something
back—maybe himself.
    Pulling herself out of her self-deprecating
thoughts, Kate began to worry more as she watched his large hands,
scaring herself into thinking how easy it would be for him to hurt,
or even kill her. Her breathing began to hitch again, and her mouth
went dry. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply before opening
them.
    When she raised her eyes back up to his
face, he was studying her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his
soft lips. It was clear to her that as she had been inspecting him,
he had been watching her do it. Welcoming it. Enjoying it.
    Leaning away from him, she shifted her
embarrassed gaze to his fists as they continued to clench and
unclench. Following her eyes, he stopped and looked back down at
her apologetically.
    He slapped his knees open palmed, as if he
had made a decision, startling her. With another smirk and a laugh,
he leaned slowly towards her, smiling, until