Master of the Deep Read Free Page A

music that made her want to cover her ears. Advertising, it seemed, was universal.  
    Koenraad’s smoothie was more satisfying with every swallow. The bagel, on the other hand… yech. Freezer burned and stale.  
    Monroe went to the refrigerator, swung open the massive stainless steel door. The inside was desolate. Some ketchup, a few beers, a block of cheese. She expected tumbleweeds to blow across the shelves.
    The cheese passed inspection, so she sliced off a few pieces to add to her bagel, then poured herself a cup of steaming coffee. Koenraad was gone long enough that she was finishing the last of her dry sandwich when he returned.
    His face had settled back into that unreadable mask. She swallowed. When he got all focused like this, it reminded her of the predator inside.  
    “Good news,” he said, but his lack of expression said the opposite.
    “Sure about that?” She ran her finger around the inside of the glass, trying to scoop up every last drop of the smoothie.  
    Koenraad looked at her, really looked , and a brief smile flashed across his face. Someone needed to convince him to smile more often.
    “Let me frame this better,” he said. “Good news and less good news. Things at work are a bit busy right now, but I don’t have to work until tomorrow. In short, we’ve got the day together.” He poured himself coffee and downed half of it as he leaned up against the refrigerator. Even relaxed, his body looked carved of stone.
    “And what’s the bad news?”
    “Who said anything about bad news? Less good.” He grinned, his sculpted, male-model face turning from gorgeously sterile to radiant. Either way, he had a commanding presence. Merely being in the same room with him could, and did, make her shiver.  
    “You ok?” he asked. His expression had turned wary, and she wondered if he was able to somehow sense her moods. She sincerely hoped not, because if he could, he would know exactly how attracted to him she was and how often she thought about sex—which was pretty much all the time when he was around. It was either sex or that panic-tinged curiosity.  
    “I’m all ears,” she said, forcing herself to stay calm. “What’s the less good news?”
    He came and caught her around the waist, his palms practically burning through the silk robe. Lifting her easily, he set her on a clean stretch of counter that was cool under her thighs.
    Monroe stopped breathing, and it wasn’t because she was afraid of the suddenly hungry look in his eyes.
    “Let me start over.” He parted her knees and stood between her legs. His fingers digging into the robe’s silky fabric, into her hips, he pulled her close until her body was pressing steadily against his. “I’ve got great news.” His voice was low and breathy.  
    She stared up into his eyes. The irises were an unnaturally dark blue with a ring of lighter blue around them. Objectively, they were gorgeous. Subjectively, the dilation of his pupils was the stuff of nightmares. They were a predator’s eyes, large, able to catch the smallest glimpse of movement.
    “Whatever you’re worrying about, stop,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You’ve been making me jumpy all morning.”
    Before she could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and bit hard enough to make her nipples tighten, to bring her attention to the large, virile body pressed up against hers.  
    One of his hands slid up her back, his splayed fingers pushing on her shoulder blade, urging her closer. Her breasts jutted forward, the movement opening the silky robe.
    She brought her legs up, wrapped them around his waist.  
    He growled, and when she giggled, he silenced her with a deep kiss that had her rocking her hips into him.
    “You taste like coffee,” he said as he ended his kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and easily carried her out the kitchen, down the long hallway, and back up the stairs.  
    She buried her face in his neck.