The Love Laws Read Online Free Page A

soft touches on his chest and arms had told
him she wanted him. He should have walked away. He knew this woman was trouble,
but instead he’d just stared blankly at the show she put on.
    When
she’d wrapped her arms around him and told him in no uncertain terms exactly
what she wanted from him in crude, guttural language, he’d been unable to
resist. Everything in him had told him that being with this woman was wrong,
but he’d gone to her room anyway. Had made love to her most of the night,
despite the vague whispers of his conscience.
    Now,
finally sober, he was disgusted with himself. He’d woken up with strange women
before, but this was definitely a low point. Never in his life had he felt like
such a complete douchebag—waking up next to his best friend’s vindictive
ex-wife had a way of revealing how far he’d sunk over the past few months.
    He’d
come back from Maui three months ago planning on getting his life in order. The
image of Duncan’s new sister-in-law striding away from him across the sand
seemed to have imprinted itself on his mind and he really wanted to get to know
her better. No matter how he tried he couldn’t get the sexy redhead out of his
mind.
    Being
best man at the Duncan’s wedding had shown him exactly how empty and shallow
his life had become, and he’d really wanted to turn things around. Settle down,
do the whole picket fence and rug-rat thing, but instead the exact opposite had
occurred. He’d become even more out of control than ever.
    He
knew what Dr. Phil and the rest of his ilk would say—he feared commitment and
was compensating, blah, blah, blah. But that wasn’t it. He really did want to
give up his wild ways.
    The
problem was that he couldn’t write anymore. Well, he could write, but he
couldn’t think about what he wrote anymore, which made it difficult to write
anything in-depth or remotely interesting. The subject matter he dealt with—bad
men doing horrible things was getting to him. When he’d come back from Duncan’s
honeymoon, he’d foolishly taken on a very lucrative book deal detailing the
life and activities of serial killer Harold Richard Rawlings, and he had been
spiraling downward ever since.
    He’d
known before he took on the Rawlings book that his days as a crime writer were
numbered. Interviewing monsters had once fascinated him, but lately he’d been
unable to sleep. Nightmares plagued him and a few drinks—eventually many
drinks—had been his only way of deadening his reaction to the horrors he heard
and wrote about every day.
    Kevin
had been a cop for five years before leaving the force to become a writer.
After that, he’d interviewed countless psychopaths, child molesters, and
rapists. He knew exactly what men were capable of, but there was something
different about Rawlings—something Kevin could only describe as evil.
    With
Rawlings, the nightmares, the insomnia, and especially the drinking had all
escalated at an alarming rate. His dreams of settling down were forgotten as he
attempted to distract himself from what was going on in his head. Now, he
finally had to accept that he’d hit rock bottom.
    Looking
around Kerry’s luxury suite at the Vancouver Fairmont Hotel, Kevin knew there
wasn’t any excuse for his poor judgment. No matter how crazy his job was making
him, he had no business being here and with this woman especially. Or any woman,
for that matter, at least until he straightened himself out.
    Gently,
he attempted to disentangle his arm again. Kerry sighed and shifted against his
side reminding him that she’d made the same kind of satisfied exhalations many
times during the night.
    He
gulped in reaction and noted that both of them were completely naked. The
off-white Egyptian cotton sheets had been kicked to the floor in the wee hours
of the morning and now her warmth and nudity had a predictable effect on his
anatomy. He looked down at himself and scowled. His hardening dick had even
worse judgment than he