Falling For A Redneck Read Online Free Page A

an ice princess with a volcanic core? It wasn’t just her dinner that was on fire! His lips and throbbing erection could testify to that.
    When she’d just about dared him to kiss her, he’d meant to do so as a lesson but , instead, found himself with a raging hard-on and an urge to tumble her on that front stoop. The passion she hid behind that cool, proper façade was a definite surprise. And he wasn’t the only one who got a shock!
    He grinned at the smell of burnt onion. A sign the ice princess had lost herself in the moment. Turns out the wicked witch is human after all!
    Brimming with male satisfaction, Dirk had to restrain an urge to thump his chest. He’d quite enjoyed making her lose control, but the one thing that disturbed him was he hadn’t been far behind her.
    How the hell had that happened? He never lost control with a woman. Ever. Something about her, though, drew him even with her bitchy exterior. If it hadn’t been for the smoke alarm, just how far would things have gone?
    One thing was certain: the ice princess definitely turned his crank. Not a big deal. After all, it wasn’t like he was in love with her or something. But he definitely wanted another taste—or two. Outwardly, she might appear cool and composed but inside hid a smoldering fire that he itched to coax to life so he could bathe in its flames.
    He thought about sauntering in and bugging her some more, but fear of a flying frying pan stopped him. Chances were good she’d fling it along with her burnt dinner. It would take more than one smoking-hot kiss to melt her. But with time, maybe, just maybe, it could be done.
    And he knew just the man for the job.

Chapter Four
    The letter sat on her desk taunting her. Shocking in its contents. Frightening if true.
    Surely someone played a practical joke, but one that hit too close for comfort. The stark black-and-white block printing glared at her.
    I know who you are and what you’ve been doing at night. SLUT. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.
    Whoever had written the note seemed to be hinting at her evening career as a dominatrix, but how? Marissa always took care to keep her identity secret to the point of craziness. The few times she’d advertised, she’d never shown her face, and during her sessions, she always wore a mask. All her clients were fully screened to weed out weirdos and whackos. All had as deep a desire for discreetness as she did. So who the hell had found out, and why did they want her to stop?
    A jealous wife? That seemed the most likely scenario, but which one of her clients had let slip his secret? And did she really care if some Mrs. couldn’t handle it?
    Marissa couldn’t just stop. As a single girl, she had expenses that her salary as a clerk just couldn’t cover on its own. If it came down to it, she could afford to lose one of her clients, as replacements were easy to find, but which one was the problem?
    Or was she fretting over nothing? She wouldn’t put it past one of her co -workers to play a nasty prank. Was someone in the office attempting to get her to snap and lose her cool? Maybe quit? She had no friends here. She’d never bothered trying. She didn’t feel a need to socialize, not since the divorce when she’d realized most people, even those she’d thought friends, were more interested in the salacious details of her breakup than her wellbeing.
    Tapping her nails distractedly on her desktop, Marissa pondered what to do.
    The idea of capitulating to a blackmailer, a cowardly one who didn’t even dare confront her face to face, struck a stubborn chord inside her. Screw them! If they didn’t like her second career choice, too freaking bad. Her pro-domme work followed the line of the law to the tee. No sex or sexual services were involved; therefore, no laws were being broken.
    And if someone’s wife didn’t like it, too bad. Get a divorce.
    Swiveling her chair, she fed the letter to the shredder behind her desk, where most of the permit