Dancing on the Wind

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Book: Read Dancing on the Wind for Free Online
Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
blood to boiling. Slowly he
    walked back to her, never breaking eye contact and wondering why she was standing
    her ground, not backing away from him since he allowed his most menacing expression
    to settle on his face.
    “Let’s you and me get something clear right up front, baby,” he said as he glared
    down at her. Because of his six-foot six-inch height, she had to crane her neck back to
    look up at him. “I’ll leave any guesswork about the tightness of your cunt out of our
    conversations if you’ll leave the speculation of how good my dick is out of yours.
    How’s that?”
    Keenan ignored his crude words. “I’m good at what I do,” she said, and wished she
    hadn’t for the look he gave her had nothing to do with her abilities as a medium or his
    talents as an Alpha agent.
    “So am I.”
    She watched him turn his back on her and stroll down the hall, his wide shoulders
    displacing more room than those of a normal man. Her gaze lowered to the tight
    roundness of his ass in those faded jeans, down the long legs to the well-worn sneakers
    then back up to the play of muscles in his back as he walked—no, strutted —down the
    hallway.
    23
    Charlotte Boyett-Compo
    “Conceited prick,” she called him before turning toward her suite. She could feel
    his surprised gaze on her, knew he’d intercepted her insult, but refused to look around.
    As soon as she closed the door, she shrugged off her shoulder bag, hung it on the
    clothes tree behind the door, kicked off her shoes then bent over to neatly align them
    side by side at the base, then marched over to the loveseat, cracking open her book as
    she flopped down. She needed to dive into the story to take her mind from the
    unsettling thoughts that were plaguing her.
    * * * * *
    Fallon twisted his head around one last time before she disappeared into her new
    quarters. Despite his irritation at her, he liked the way she filled out her dark blue linen
    slacks. The curves were sweet, legs long, ass just right. There was plenty up front as
    well with breasts that pushed invitingly at the pale blue silk blouse—just a hint of
    cleavage showing in the opening. Long brown hair French braided down her back
    reached almost to a waist so small he knew he could encircle it with his hands. Those
    hazel eyes could flash verdant fire and that pleased him. Her high cheekbones gathered
    a blush easily, her full lips were no strangers to pouting. He had to admit she was a
    knock-dead gorgeous female who smelled like mangoes, their branches wrapped
    around on a fence ripening on a late summer afternoon.
    “Wrapping around,” he said as he opened the door to his quarters. For some reason
    those words stuck in his mind and he had a sudden vision of twisted sheets and tangled
    limbs, sweaty bodies cooling by a lazily moving fan overhead, a slender foot slowly
    traveling along his calf.
    It had been a long time since he’d lain with a woman, taken comfort from a soft
    feminine body, was cradled by silken arms and stroked by gentle fingers. He had
    plunged himself into his work to push aside the need for any of that. He was a loner
    and preferred to keep it that way. Women needlessly complicated things. That was the
    main reason he’d never wanted an Extension, a fellow agent who would amplify his
    own powers.
    But at that moment, he couldn’t force his mind away from the woman at the other
    end of the corridor and he felt his cock swelling, aching, demanding. He put a hand to
    his growing erection.
    “I bet if I come on hard to that prissy little bitch…”
    He stopped, considered how she might react to his blatant sexual demand, and an
    unholy light spread over Mikhail Fallon’s face.
    “She’ll run screaming to the Supervisor,” he said aloud. “Begging him to reassign
    her. That’s one way to get rid of her.”
    The more he thought about it, the more the need intensified. He reached for the
    door knob.
    24
    Dancing on the Wind
    * * * * *
    When the heavy, intruding knock

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