Caught Dead (The Journals of Octavia Hollows #3) by Stacey Rourke

Author:Stacey Rourke [Rourke, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07PLKPW3J
Publisher: Anchor Group Publishing
Published: 2019-04-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

A willowy frame with cascades of platinum hair tumbling to her waist stepped ashore with her arms thrown out wide in open invitation to the mystified couple that awaited her. A glittering sapphire gown, dark as the depths of the ocean, clung to her ample curves, leaving shockingly little to the imagination.

Swords at my sides, I moved in a low crouch, keeping to the shadows of the dunes as much as I was able. Not that it mattered. None amongst them seemed even remotely aware of my presence.

Wetting her full lips, the curvy enigmatic femme fatale prowled toward the man, her hips moving in an alluring swish. Weaving her fingers into his hair, she pursed her lips in a mock pout. “Tell me,” she pressed in a husky purr, “how do you feel about this woman?”

Arms hanging slack at his sides, the sandy-haired guy didn’t utter a word, so enraptured was he by the woman before him. Odder still, his girlfriend—who should have been taking off her earrings and getting ready to throw down with the beach tramp—mirrored his pose of absolute surrender.

Leaning in, the seductress breathed her questions into him. “Do you love her? Is she your forever? Your one… true… heart’s desire?”

“Yes,” he answered in a monotone mumble. The power of her song seemed to have robbed him of any trace of emotion.

The siren inhaled deeply as if intoxicated by the scent of his truth. “Yessssss… I can smell the heady brew of your desire for her.”

Ducking behind the lifeguard station, I peeked around one of its post legs and waited for the right moment to make my move.

Head tilting, the pink point of her tongue dragged over her teeth. “And what of me, darling boy? What do you feel for me?”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” The fact that the words tumbled from the man’s lips made them no more his own. It was painfully obvious they were planted there by what I guessed to be a manipulative siren.

Don’t be impressed I knew the term. It wasn’t any kind of supernatural know-how. I just watch a lot of pirate movies.

“Pretty words,” she murmured, her mouth teasing over his. “But I’m really more of a show-don’t-tell kind of girl. Prove it to me, lover. Give me a taste of your passion.”

He needed no further invitation.

With his hands on the small of her back, he crushed her to him and greedily claimed the sweet temptation of her lips. Curling one leg around his hip, the siren rocked against him, earning a husky groan of appreciation that rumbled from his core. Gripping her waist tight, he pressed against her with his growing enthusiasm.

“Okay… ew.” Letting my head fall back against the sun-bleached wood, I allowed myself the momentary mercy of averting my eyes. Not that I could escape the full effects of their traumatizing scene unfolding. I could still hear the slurping and smacking. Gross.

Only when a moan of pleasure morphed into a choked gasp did I force myself to look back.

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