Twisted in Tulips Read Online Free Page B

lacked harsh opinions, was gentle in attitude and unwilling to tackle a confrontation. He was nothing like Jace and not remotely arousing.
    Damn. What happened to being too raw?

Chapter Four
    Jace nursed the beer he’d ordered for another hour and thirty-three minutes. Kyle had left quickly after realizing Jace wasn’t interested in conversation, but the talking armpit of Misty’s date continued to miss the clues of her disinterest.
    The longer they sat, the more she glanced in the mirror, occasionally meeting Jace’s gaze. The more she fiddled with the drink she wasn’t drinking and studied the grain of the wooden bar. The more she shifted away, millimeter by millimeter.
    Every shift flexed and released the fine muscles in her legs. The more Jace watched those long, lean legs the more clearly he saw her naked except for her stilettos with those legs wrapped around his waist. Her back, held erect in refined posture, would curve as she arched in orgasm.
    Her taste, peaches and margarita, lingered on his tongue.
    The training drilled into him after years of service kept him from shifting in his seat, but the erection pressing against his zipper increased the challenge. The bigger challenge was stopping himself from crossing the bar a second time.
    Misty shifted again. Her skirt slipped a little higher on her thigh.
    Jace’s dick twitched. He dropped a shaking hand to his crotch, flattened his palm on his cock and pressed.
    Across the bar, Misty flattened a hand on her thigh and rubbed her bare skin.
    Rather than ease any tension, the pressure of his hand, the imagined pressure of hers, amped up his arousal. His balls drew tight and without touching the woman haunting him, fully clothed and in a public place, he lingered on the precipice of release.
    Before shaming himself, he slid his hand to the middle of his thigh and dug his fingers in until his muscles bellowed with pain. His hunger inched back, not much, but enough for control to slip back to the forefront.
    Twenty-eight more minutes passed with him fighting for control when Armpit finally paid the tab and escorted Misty to the door. Not caring if he was obvious, Jace threw some bills on the table and followed.
    Whatever it was about the woman he’d rescued that called to him—he’d identify it later—he couldn’t let her walk away and risk never seeing her again. She interested him beyond the desire for sex.
    She spoke to him the same as she’d speak to anyone, as if she hadn’t been scared by his arm. Or didn’t care.
    Rather than taking a car, Armpit and Misty walked along the sidewalk, close but not intimately close. Satisfaction twitched the muscle between Jace’s nose and upper lip on the left side. She wouldn’t be inviting him over for a nightcap.
    After a few blocks, they turned down a side street and stopped shortly at the gate of a small courtyard shared by six town homes. The place was secured with a coded keypad on the gate. Beyond was an immaculately manicured lawn with lights hidden in the foliage that offered a well-lit security among the beauty of the garden.
    Fading into the shadows across the street, Jace watched as Misty hugged Armpit goodnight and keyed her code into the gate. He couldn’t see the numbers from his position, but her finger strokes were enough for him to figure it out.
    When Armpit had turned the corner at the end of the street and Misty had let herself into the corner home, Jace crossed the street and entered her gate code. Moving like he belonged there, he approached the door that stood between him and the woman of his desires. He rapped twice.
    “One minute.” Her muffled call came out husky and a little breathy through the wooden panel. When she opened the door her burgundy suit jacket hung open, a lace-edged camisole in the same color peeked out.
    His blood surged with heat.
    “What are you doing here? How’d you get through the gate? Did you follow me?”
    Driven by instinct, Jace stepped inside, grabbed her