Embers (Blaze Series Book 3) Read Online Free

blanket.
    “And now you’re in bed,” he says, and I hear
the smile on his face, those dimples flashing through the stubble.
    “Now I’m in bed.”
    “So am I. You know, that’s my one regret
with letting you go. Never got to have you here, in my bed.”
    It’s barely a whisper, a tickle really, yet
I shiver.
    “Sam . . .”
    “Hmm?”
    “Tell me about your day.” I say this a
little too brightly, and when he sighs, I feel like shit. “It’s just—”
    “No. I get it. What do you want to hear
about first? The vandalism at the pet store or the two meth heads we busted
pissing off the Westgate Bridge?”
    “I never turn down a meth head story.”
    He chuckles and starts his story. By the
time he’s done, we’re both laughing, the awkward moment forgotten. It’s not I
don’t want to talk about being in Sam’s bed. Hell, I want to be
in his bed. But that can’t happen now. What sense does it make to torture us
both?
    Besides, romantic entanglements aren’t at
the top of my priority list right now—work and my book are. I can’t be
distracted by thoughts of being in anyone’s bed.
    “Katy? Did you fall asleep?” He sounds more
amused than worried.
    “Huh? No. I’m . . . thinking.”
    “I should let you go anyway. I’ve got an
early call tomorrow.”
    “Okay. Listen, it’s not that I don’t want to
. . . it’s just . . . we said—”
    “You need to figure things out, Katy. I
promise. It’s fine. I just wanted to hear your voice. That’s okay to say,
right?”
    I smile despite the sadness sitting on my
chest. “Of course.”
    After we hang up, I consider tackling the
manuscript again. It feels good to write about someone who’s the kind of person
I want to be. Samantha Stone says all the things I’d never say and doesn’t
second-guess her decisions.
    Finding a creative outlet for all the guilt
I feel is tempting, but it will have to wait. My body is telling me the two
hours of sleep I had before Sam called isn’t enough. I tighten my grip on the
blanket and close my eyes. One of my last thoughts as sleep takes me is of Sam,
and whether I should have admitted that I wanted to hear his voice, too.

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    He’s standing framed in the doorway. All
I can see is the silhouette of his body, the way he holds himself. It’s still
dark and I struggle back to consciousness; the warm fogginess of sleep doesn’t
want to let me go just yet. The cold lights of the moon and the city, streaming
in through the window behind him, wash over him, defining the contours of his
shoulders, the broad muscles of his chest, in lines of shadow.
    When I move to get a better look at him,
I feel the cool touch of silk against my naked body. The sheets whisper secrets
against my skin. The touch is cool against the slenderness of my thighs, the
curve of my hips. I want to feel his skin above me, pushing against the silk
below.
    He walks into the dark room, moving with
that lazy grace that drives me wild. The familiar warmth starts to build
between my legs and I drop a casual hand down, cupping myself. Feeling the
wetness there. He stands by the bed, his cock hard and arrogant, standing
straight up against his flat stomach.
    He leans over me to kiss me. His kiss is
soft and tastes sweet, like honey drizzled over my lips. My body arches of its
own accord, offering itself to him.
    I trail a hand down his torso, feeling
the warm, unyielding slabs of muscle that are his pecs. Then the grooves of his
abs. Further down, further down . . . and then my hand encircles him, feeling
the throbbing of blood through his cock. I run my palm over the tip, and a
sticky strand connects us for a moment.
    Then I’m rolling off the bed, going to my
knees. The carpet is rough, a sensation a whole universe away from the silk.
But I don’t care, I don’t care. Not when I’m settling my lips over the hard
length of him, not when I’m touching my tongue to the tip of his cock, and that
slick, salty taste is blooming on my