Read Deceptively Yours (Wanton Weston Women, Book Two) for Free Online

inside.
    He had a hard time keeping his eyes off her rear view, the way her hips swayed under the towel. He imagined himself kissing a trail up her calves, along those creamy thighs to her most secret spot. His balls constricted with need and a wave of intense heat gripped him.
    The click of the lock told him she didn’t trust him, at least not yet. But why would she? Better that she was cautious with the real possibility that Harry could be moving in next door.
    She met his gaze through the glass and held it for several seconds before easing the drapes shut, blocking his view. Just as it had in the lobby, her stare had set his pulse racing.
    He shielded his eyes from the glare of the late afternoon sun and tried to make out the other rooms that faced the pool but there was no sign of anyone else inside the house.
    Besides, she was one of the hedonists, not the mistress of a wealthy fugitive. She’d been headed to the conference registration area back at the hotel.
    The door to the bedroom slid open and the woman stepped out onto the patio, her arms loaded with first-aid items. She’d put her frumpy dress back on.
    Brushing aside the disappointment that she’d covered up all her enticing curves, he hurried over to relieve her of the ridiculous amount of supplies she’d carried out—bandages in several sizes and shapes, two kinds of liquid antiseptic, paper tape and antibiotic ointment. “I guess they do keep the place well stocked.” He crossed the area to a glass table and set everything on top. “This ought to do it.”
    She adjusted her glasses and gave the most adorable shrug. “I brought everything I could find.”
    He couldn’t remember the last time his appetite for a woman had run so rampant. “I appreciate that.” Awkward silence stretched between them. He couldn’t help but focus on her tongue as it wet her bottom lip. He imagined that pink tongue sliding over his cock, rounding the tip and swiping a pearl of his seed off. God, he was growing hard again. He cleared his throat and offered his hand. “I’m Guy, by the way.”
    She hesitated, just stared at his hand a moment, but then she took it and gave him a firm shake. “Laura…er…Annie.”
    He held on, absorbing the heat from her soft skin until she pulled away. The fact that she didn’t seem to know her own name gave him pause, though. “So which is it, Laura or Annie?”
    “Um, both, actually. I’m…a writer, a journalist, and I use a pen name, Dear Annie. I’ll be giving the keynote address for the conference.”
    She was Dear Annie? He’d have never guessed that this demure, shy woman could be a sex advice columnist. She looked awfully young to have been writing for the four or five years since he’d first read her column. He schooled the shock from his expression.
    “I guess you’ve heard of me.” Her eyelids fluttered. “Of course you have. You’re here for the WHS convention, right?”
    Not in this lifetime. “Right.” It was only a small lie. He could hardly tell her his true purpose here.
    “So you’re one of…you’re a hedonist?”
    “Of course.” Why did deceiving her suddenly bother him so much? He hadn’t been honest when she’d inquired about what he was doing in her hedges before, but now he had a thread of a connection to her, he hoped.
    Hell, he told lies in the course of his work every day. But this dishonesty felt more personal than something he did for his job. He hated for her to think he was one of the conventioneers, that he was associated with that group even though she was here with them, or at least for them.
    “I’ve read your column.” He shifted from foot to foot, hesitant to praise her views, but he was posing as a hedonist and as such, he should agree with most of her anything-goes precepts. “I’m a fan. Can’t wait to hear your speech.”
    A cloud passed quickly over her features. “Thanks.”
    He ventured a glance at her left hand. Despite his objection to her philosophy on sex and