Read Virgin Daiquiri (Last Call #4) for Free Online Page B

mentioned?”
    “ Especially then. And if
you’re good, I’ll show you how dirty sex in a shower can
be.”
    She pretended to consider it for a moment as
she stretched out on top of him. “And what if I decide to be
bad?”
    Leo’s grin was lazy and downright wicked.
“I’ve got a few ideas.”
    “ Of course you do, you
cocky bastard. Give me a kiss.”
    “ Just one?”
    “ For now,” Caitlin allowed.
Happiness warmed her, along with a sleepy contentment that made her
want to curl up beside him. “One kiss, and then I want a nap. You
exhausted me.”
    His lips felt warm and soft, but his kiss
was anything but. Heat filled her. Dangerous heat and a hint of
promise. “Take a nap,” he whispered against her lips. “Rest.
Because in a few hours, I just might fuck you in the shower.”
    “ Mmm. If you’re
good.”

Wondering what other
drinks are on the menu? Check out this excerpt from
    Last Call #5: Frostbite
     
    Last Call
wasn’t her usual scene.
    Kelsey snagged
a menu from the end of the bar and thumbed the edge as she scanned
the offerings. She was used to clubs, all right—the carefully
orchestrated dance of the horny, the line between need and
desperation growing thinner with each passing drink. But she wasn’t
used to places humans couldn’t even enter, places where five grand
got you a drink and a room key.
    Both very,
very special.
    She trailed
one manicured nail past the initial categories—werewolves,
vampires, fae. The usual, she imagined, for a place like Last Call.
On the back, at the bottom of the page, printed in smaller letters
than the rest, was one last heading.
    Other.
    She smiled and
drained her whiskey. Amusing, if not flattering, that she was an
anomaly so rare there wasn’t even a category to include her, just a
catchall section at the bottom of a menu, right beside the
acknowledgment that parties of six or more would be assessed an
automatic gratuity of eighteen percent.
    Frostbite:
Looking for a partner immune to supernatural seduction.
    Kelsey lingered over the words, licking her lips. It shouldn’t
be so damn hard to
get laid without having to talk, but even an anonymous bar hookup
required a modicum of conversation. If she spoke at all, her
potential partner was equally likely to follow her home, humping
her leg like a dog, or throw himself from a building to get her
attention.
    Both had
happened before.
    She leaned
forward before she could stop herself, sliding the menu toward the
bartender with one upraised eyebrow.
    He followed
her finger toward the line she’d pointed to, then glanced up at
her, assessment in his dark eyes. “Siren?”
    Kelsey tapped
her temple and winked.
    He smiled
widely. “You know how it works?”
    She handed him
her credit card and held her breath as she glanced around the club.
Half the patrons were staring at the bartender—at her—and she
suspected that even if no one was looking for sex, curiosity
demanded they watch what happened next.
    The bartender
tucked her credit card under the counter and handed her a slim key
card before reaching up to tap the side of his earpiece. “Last Call
for the lady. Frostbite.”
    The music
resumed with a thumping beat, and Kelsey turned to watch the crowd
as the bartender prepared her drink. Some were checking menus,
undoubtedly unfamiliar with the drink’s coded meaning, but several
men had already drawn free of the crowd, perhaps wondering exactly
what her brand of seductive magic was.
    And whether
they could handle it.
    The bartender
set down her drink with a murmur of encouragement. She picked it up
only long enough to take a sip—she hated cream mixed with her
liquor on the best of days, but she had to signal to the gathered
revelers that she was ready to go.
    In every
way.
    A suited
figure appeared at the bottom of the steps, a stern, unsmiling man
who watched her without expression. He stood there, tall and
severe, looking for all the world like a stockbroker who’d
accidentally wandered into the