Fever Play (Cursed by Blood Saga) by Marianne Morea

Author:Marianne Morea [Morea, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2014-03-01T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Ryan’s eyes swept the place as they walked into the bar. “This building has some serious history. Did you know it was formerly the Charles Street Jail?” He pointed to the iron walkways that marked each floor and surrounded the entire perimeter. “The original catwalk was used by prisoners and guards to move from cell to cell and floor to floor. Designers kept it and reworked it to circle the entire rotunda of the main hotel with the Catwalk Bar as its main attraction.”

“Impressive. Are you a guest here?” Emily asked, sliding into a chair an intimate little table.

He nodded. “We couldn’t be here otherwise. The Catwalk is a hotel-guest-only retreat,” he quoted, tapping the shiny information card on the table.

Emily took the laminated rack card and looked at the pictures of the smiling guests and fancy drinks. “Hmmm. It also says a place of unrestrained fun and that it closes at two a.m.” She gestured to her watch. “I guess that means we’d better drink fast. It’s almost closing time.”

Ryan slid the information card from her fingers and laced his own with hers instead. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he turned her palm upward, kissing the inside of her wrist with a slow sexy caress.

Watching his lips against her skin and the feel of his mouth, subtle and warm, made her own water. Her pulse increased, and she knew she was throwing off fuck-me pheromones by the gallon. Dual-natured or not, there was no way Ryan wasn’t feeling the effects as well.

He lifted his head and his eyes locked with hers. They were dark and dilated, and when he inhaled, she swore he made a sound at the back of his throat. He was as turned on as she was.

She slipped her hand from his and crossed her arms on the table, leaning in a bit so he could have a better view. For once she was glad she listened to her own advice and wore the plunging gold silk tunic with her winter white pencil skirt and matching knee-high boots.

“So, hotel guest, what do you recommend?”

Ryan’s lips slid into a sideways smirk. “Do you really want to know?”

“To drink, wise guy. What do you recommend to drink?”

“Oh. That. I recommend the French Kiss. It’s Grey Goose La Poire, Chambord, pineapple and topped with Prosecco. It’s sexy and sleek…just like you. Plus, it goes down easy…”

He let the last part of his description trail off, but the innuendo wasn’t lost, and heat crawled up Emily’s cheeks.

“High color.” He slid back from his seat and moved around to her side of the table. “There’s nothing sexier than a girl who still blushes.” He kissed her cheek close to the base of her ear and then whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

He straightened and walked toward the bar, his stride strong and muscled. Emily watched him and let go of the breath locked in her throat. “Oh my God,” she mumbled, smoothing the front of her silk blouse.

She opened her purse and took out her phone, expecting twenty panicked text messages from Rissa alone.

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