Falling for the Marine (A McCade Brothers Novel) (Entangled Brazen) Read Online Free

as his two-bedroom, so finding the hall bath took no time at all. The small sink with cabinet resembled the one in his apartment, too, except hers looked like a makeup counter had exploded on it. Could one woman really use all this…stuff? Apparently yes, and then some, because when he pulled open the top drawer of the cabinet, more junk spilled out. He dug deep and, jackpot, found a hairpin wedged into the bottom corner.
    All the spit dried out of his mouth the minute he returned to the bedroom. Chloe lay on her side, facing the handcuff. She was trying to wriggle her wrist free, and, in the process, presenting him with an absolutely stunning view of her long, graceful back, her tiny thong, and the most mouthwatering ass he’d ever pondered sinking his teeth into. A small, colorful tattoo rode the upper curve of her left butt cheek. The low lights and flickering candles made discerning the tattoo a challenge at ten paces, but by the time he reached the bedside the lines and flourishes had arranged themselves into a small bird—a hummingbird in flight.
    She was a full-fledged feast for the senses…her tantalizing scent, all the colors and textures of her, from the wild cascade of tawny curls to the sexy little tattoo. His mind ran wild for a second. He envisioned climbing onto the bed, ensuring she had a good grip on the headrails, and then covering that bird with his mouth and devouring it while she bucked and squirmed and begged for more. He’d give it to her, until she screamed his name and came against his tongue so epically the only thing he’d taste for the foreseeable future would be pure, unadulterated Chloe.
    “Nice tat.” His voice sounded like a rusty hinge. She looked back at him, and then her eyes dropped to her hip and her lips twisted into a smile.
    “My free bird.”
    He came over and sat down beside her on the bed, resisting the impulse to reach out and trace the dark blue border of the tattoo. “Free bird?”
    She rolled onto her back and he leaned over her…maybe a little closer than strictly necessary…and went to work on the cuff. “Yeah. I got the ink done a few months ago to remind me how much I appreciate my freedom.”
    “Well, in that case, I’m happy to report”—he popped the cuff—“you are once again free.”
    She tried to sit up at the same time he leaned in to maneuver the cuff off her wrist. They collided a little. Her breath rushed out at the impact of her breasts against his chest, and he breathed her in. His mind indulged in a highly enthralling fantasy of ripping the lingerie off, hiking her knees up over his shoulders, burying himself inside her, and showing her the joys of temporary captivity.
    She let loose a little moan, which might have signified she’d read his mind, but probably had more to do with the fact that he was pinning her to the mattress. “Sorry,” he said, but the word was barely a murmur.
    “No worries,” she whispered back. He slowly sat up. Those endless gray eyes of hers sucked him in. A part of him knew he was absently rubbing her wrist where her attempts to pull herself out of the cuff had left a red mark. Another part of him acknowledged the heat of her hip against his thigh. But mostly, he just drowned in her eyes.
    “I hate to appear unappreciative, but I—I really have to go.”
    Go? He blinked. This was her apartment, wasn’t it? Oh, wait…she had to go .
    “Right.” He climbed off the bed as quickly as his back would allow.
    She darted past him like a black, lace comet. “Thanks. Beer’s in the fridge. Help yourself. I’ll be right there.”
    When the bathroom door slammed shut, he released a breath, shifted the missile in his pants to a less prominent position, and then made his way to the kitchen. Thanks to the open floor plan, the candlelight from the living room illuminated the kitchen. He opened the fridge, twisted the cap off a Bud, and drank, pushing aside the oddly uncomfortable realization he was probably swigging