Her Fantasy Read Online Free Page A

want to kick himself. Damn it. He’d just been starting to relax into the situation. Now he wanted to know how long he could possibly make it last. He wanted forever, and that might not happen. If Andrew was still in the picture, he needed to pull back and lighten up, fast.
Whatever time they had together, he wanted to make it special for her. He would never forget her, and he wanted their time together to be a memory she could treasure, too.
    Chapter Four
     
     
    Anya looked at the house on the seashore with curiosity as Warren pulled in and parked the car. The small, low-slung building looked like an artist’s studio, all wood and glass. There was a car in the driveway. She glanced at Warren.
“Somebody lives here?” He hadn’t mentioned that when he said he was taking her to the Norfolk coast for the weekend.
Warren switched off the engine. “No. The house is mine, a retreat and a bit of an investment. I invited a friend to join us.” He paused. “I told you, I intend to make all your fantasies come true.”
There was a twinkle in his eye. Anya’s breath hitched, before racing on. He’d informed her several times that he was serious about making her fantasies come true. In particular he’d reminded her about the threesome fantasy, and he’d done so in the dark and across a pillow, between rounds of passionate lovemaking. Whispered erotic scenarios that made her blood pump and her pussy wet. Anya stared over at the car, a sporty black number. Definitely a man’s car. “Who is it?”
Warren ducked in and kissed her before he responded. “When we were at Fat Franco’s you rued the lack of shellfish on the menu. You said your favorite meal was lobster thermidor. So I organized someone who’d know how to cook it for you.”
“Stop teasing me.”
Warren nodded in the direction of the house. A man had appeared on the wooden deck that jutted out from the door. Dark-haired and solidly built, he wore a loose-fitting pair of khaki shorts with a faded sleeveless T-shirt and deck shoes. Anya stared.
“Joe’s a chef. He’s also an old friend, and he makes the best lobster thermidor you’ll ever taste, I guarantee it. He owes me some favors, so I asked him to come up here and cook it for you.”
“Joe,” she repeated, as she looked at the man walking over to the car, wondering if a well-prepared lobster meal was the only fantasy Warren intended to realize. The bloke was all polished muscles and tanned skin, and he looked more like a surfer or a male model than a chef.
“I told you, I want to make all your fantasies come true.” He reached across to open her seat belt just as the other guy, Joe, opened her car door from the outside. There wasn’t time to say anything else, but when she caught Warren’s eye, he flickered his eyebrows at her.
Anya barely had time to gather herself before her hand was taken in Joe’s firm, warm grasp as he helped her from the car. She found herself staring into dark brown eyes that held a mischievous look.
“You’re just as sexy as Warren said you were.” He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed it. It was a charming gesture, and that—together with his bad-boy stance and the raw sex appeal—made for a dangerously inviting package. Warren appeared at his side, taller and more maverick in his good looks, his eyes filled with secret knowledge.
“Why, thank you,” she responded, “but you have the advantage. I wish Warren had told me about you.” Her eyebrows lifted as she glanced over at Warren.
Warren shrugged. “I thought you might enjoy the surprise.”
Oh, yes, she was enjoying it all right, and so was he. She could tell.
“I’ll get your bags,” Joe said, heading to the back of the car.
“Well, do you find him attractive?” Warren asked under his breath, when Joe moved out of earshot.
“Warren!”
He laughed, and then smacked her bottom playfully.
Direct wasn’t the word. “One question,” she whispered back, as they followed Joe into the house.
“What?”
“If you told him all about me, does he know…you