Read Platinum (Facets of Passion) for Free Online

burn, melting her. The skirt climbed higher, flipping up, giving those glimpses Steel had teased her about. In a moment, Brandon might see the matching yellow lace panties she wore. She wriggled her bottom a little, letting the fabric ride up.
    “Sweetheart,” Brandon said, and she glanced coyly at him from under her hat brim, “watch your dress there.”
    She shifted a little, letting her thighs part slightly and smiled at him. “Maybe we should pull over, find a little private beach spot and you can have your way with me.”
    He laughed and wrinkled his nose. “It’s not like we’re teenagers, Thea. Can you imagine if someone saw us? We can use a bed like grown-ups.”
    “Okay,” she agreed, putting a hand on his linen-clad thigh. “Let’s go to your place.”
    “What about brunch?”
    “There will be tons of people there—your mother will hardly notice if we don’t make it.”
    “Oh, she’d notice.” He sounded glum.
    Feeling daring, she slid her hand up to his crotch, which was disappointingly without substance. That could be changed. “Come on. Let’s play hooky.”
    He stared steadfastly at the road, flicking her only one nervous glance. “That’s dangerous behavior. What’s gotten into you?”
    She smiled and stroked him through the cloth. “Just having fun. We haven’t been together in a while. I’ve missed you.”
    But he hadn’t missed her, failing to rouse beneath her touch. Maybe she was doing it wrong. Wouldn’t be surprising, since she usually waited for the guy to make the first move.
    “I’ve been busy.” Defensive.
    “I know. I didn’t mean anything by it.” With a sigh, she sat back in her seat. It did sound like a weak excuse.
    He reached over and patted her hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m just not in the mood right now. You understand. It’s this economy. With the lending rates the way they are…”
    She stopped listening again. And tugged her dress down, tucking it demurely under her thighs for the rest of the drive over the Sawyer Swing Bridge and onto Sullivan’s Island.
    Brunch was lovely, of course, with sparkling chatter and expensive champagne. Althea found herself on the fringe of the party, though, having wandered to one of the bay windows. The grand old house, with curving twin staircases down to the long expanse of formal lawn, sat back from the ocean, further separated from the beach by the dune break. On the other side, beach-goers frolicked in the gloriously sunny day, thronging the sand below with umbrellas and carnival towels.
    For a moment in the car, she’d nearly asked Brandon to turn around and take her home. Two things had stopped her. First, it would have been terrible manners—a line she simply couldn’t cross. And then, she didn’t want to go running back to Steel, who would undoubtedly be waiting and watching, sure of his impending victory.
    She hated to hand it to him on a silver platter. Herself, stewed in her own juices for several days, served up for whatever his dirty version of brunch might be. Picturing it that way, it sounded pretty damn fantastic, actually.
    “What has you smiling so sweetly?” Brandon handed her another flute of champagne.
    She sipped the icy wine, swallowing down the images that had made her smile. “I was thinking I haven’t ever played on the beach.”
    “You can’t, sweetheart. You told me that.”
    “I know—but maybe I could, with sunscreen and a cabana set-up.”
    Brandon shook his head. “Skin cancer. Did you know the rates of skin cancer in the United States alone have increased by—”
    She put a hand on his arm. “Brandon. I think we need to talk.”
    He looked concerned. “What about? I know you’ve been preoccupied.”
    “I think…I think maybe this thing between us has run its course.”
    Brandon flipped back his suit jacket and slid his hands in his trouser pockets, a gesture so like Steel’s and yet a world apart. Oddly he didn’t look surprised. “You want to break