Ravished (The Teplo Trilogy #1) Read Online Free Page A

minutes ago. He glanced down at Lillian again, torn between his job and making her come for him one more time.
    For the first time since sweeping her onto the dance floor, duty won.
    He released her regretfully, holding onto her waist as her injured leg dropped back to the floor. She pulled herself away from his body to stand on her own. Her legs tremble beneath her before her stance firmed.
    He slid his hands away from her body and into his pockets.
    "Take this," he said, pressing a card into her hand. "It has my information on it."
    She glanced at it and then back up to him, her brow furrowed, her eyes still dilated and hazy.
    "Don't leave it here." The card contained only his first name and a telephone number, but even if his actions with her suggested otherwise, he was nothing if not careful. He had to be cautious to stay alive.
    Lillian's eyes widened at his command, but she nodded and closed her fist tightly around the little square of paper.
    Tristan turned to go and then stopped. He couldn't just leave her here.
    "Come on, beautiful. Let me get you out of here."
    Grabbing her hand in his, he began to lead her through the throng of dancers. Most parted for him without question. He sidestepped the clumsy gyrations of those who did not, ensuring none touched Lillian as he led her toward the exit, hoping like hell she came back to meet him tomorrow.
    Christ, she had to come back.

Chapter Two
     
    "Ugh. Go away."
    The shrill ringing of the phone invaded Lillian Maddox's dreams, shattering bliss like fine pieces of glass. She groaned and rolled in her bed, slapping the cluttered table to silence the loud noise, reluctant to wake and face the day. Her dreams had been good… great. She’d been dancing again, completing a series of pirouettes across the stage as music swelled around her. Tristan had waited for her in the wings, his beautiful blue gaze transfixed on her.
    Oh God! Tristan.
    Her eyes flew open wide as the events of the night before came flooding back in a heated rush. She dove for the phone, jerking it from the table. A little glass ballerina wobbled on the wooden tabletop before falling over, one arched foot dangling in the air.
    "Hello?" Lillian mumbled, reaching out to tip the little ornament back into place.
    "Morning, Lil," her dad said, his voice full of affection. "Did I wake you?"
    "Um…." Little tendrils of disappointment twisted through her, though she didn't know why. Of course Tristan wasn't calling her. He didn't even know her number, for Christ's sake. Stupid. So stupid, she silently berated herself, swiping her free hand over her eyes as if the motion would clear her mind as much as her field of vision.
    "Lil?"
    "Yeah, I'm here. Sorry. I didn't sleep well last night." Her cheeks flamed at the lie even though her father couldn't see her. She'd slept better than she had since her ballet career was ripped away from her a year ago.
    "Maybe you should call Dr. Thomas. He could prescribe you something."
    "Dad." Untangling the sheet from around her and throwing it off, she scooted around in her bed to stretch her aching leg. "I'm fine."
    "You sure?"
    "Yes, I'm sure." She shook her head, bemused. "You worry too much."
    "Not without reason," he replied, his voice quiet, tired.
    Lillian glanced down at the long scar on her thigh, a sad frown twisting her lips.
    "Yeah, I know," she said through the lump in her throat. And she did know. Intimately, in fact. But at twenty-two, she didn't need her dad to slay dragons for her anymore. She had to learn to do it on her own again.
    "That's good," he said, clearing his throat.
    Awkward silence hung on the line for a moment.
    "Are you working today?" she asked then.
    "Always, baby girl." Her dad chuckled, his relief at the change of subject obvious. "I'm glad you weren't as big a hellion as some of these kids today, Lil. Mrs. Anderson has been to the office twice already, having a fit about someone taking a baseball bat to her mailbox."
    "It was probably the