Mending Fences Read Free

down?”
    Now there was a question he’d never been asked. “Truthfully? Not since I was sixteen.”
    “Really. Never once, in all that time?” The Queen pushed her chair away from the table. She rose, stepped toward him as he slid his own chair back. She fisted her pale hands in the black satin of her long dress and pulled, hiking the fringed hem up to mid-glorious-thigh, exposing a hint of black lace at the top of her stockings. Without warning, she straddled him, lowering herself onto his lap.
    Curran sucked in a harsh breath, his erection instant. She reached her hands into his hood. Grabbed his hair. Covered his mouth with hers.
    Rational thought scattered.
    She kissed him hard, her tongue thrusting into his mouth, brushing his in a tantalizing stroke. She tasted sweet and sharp. Her scent, her warmth filled his senses. Something deep inside him knotted and a groan escaped him as he slid his hands along her thighs. The whole of his existence focused on the primal need to thrust inside her.
    Before he could return the kiss, or even properly respond to it, she dropped her hands to his chest and pushed herself back off his lap.
    “Thanks for the drink,” She straightened to her full height and smoothed the reflective surface of her dress. A hint of a smile curved the edges of her mouth. “But I turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”
    Curran’s head swam. His skin tingled all over, his blood surged in his veins. What in the hell had she done to him? Never had a woman kissed him in a way that completely short-circuited his brain.
    It took a moment before the synapses fired correctly again, and in those few seconds, she had vanished. He leapt to his feet, scanning the club for her.
    She was gone.
    “No, no, no,” he muttered, cursing under his breath. “Not fair.”
    The waitress came by, gathering glasses and bottles off the neighboring table, then leaned close to talk to him. “I don’t know what you said to Victoria to get a kiss like that out of her, but you’ve made a lot of guys here very jealous.”
    His spine stiffened. “You know who she is?”
    “Just her first name.” Miranda threw him a smile and walked away.
    He turned the name in his mind. Victoria. Perfect. He’d been thinking of her as a queen already. Elegant name for a cool exterior, belying the heat of her kiss. He made his way back to the bar and downed a second beer in an effort to kill the fire inside him.
    It failed. Miserably.
    Half an hour later, Curran unlocked his front door. He trudged down the hall into the master suite, flicking on the lights, stripping his clothes as he went. So much for a night of fun on the town, finding rejuvenation in a crowd. God, he needed a cigarette. He’d picked the wrong time to try quitting.
    He stepped into the rock-walled shower, turned the faucet to cold, and let it rip. The icy water pounded against his skin, taking his breath away, but it did little to temper the blaze she’d kindled.
    Victoria. He still felt her hands in his hair, her tongue in his mouth. Her taste, her scent, those unique eyes stayed sharp, penetrated deep into his thoughts and hardened him all over again.
    Curran mentally kicked himself. How had he let this happen? He’d gone and let his hormones come out of dormancy, reminding him precisely how much of a bitch celibacy could be. It was far too easy to picture Victoria beneath him, her creamy skin soft under his fingers, her long legs wrapped around his hips.
    He swore. The carnal need was bad enough on its own. To make matters worse, this wasn’t just sexual. She’d piqued his interest, and her disappearing act would nag him relentlessly. This wasn’t how it worked, damn it. He should have the opportunity to decide if she was worth investing his time before he then chose to walk away or stay.
    He’d be damned if he’d end up looking back on Victoria as the proverbial one who got away. Finding her would severely test his resourcefulness. Her first name gave him next to