Feathers. Lies. Glitter. Secrets. Lust. Meet Genie Divine, the wise-cracking London show-girl on a hell-bent mission to save her beloved family theatre.
Now meet Abel Kingdom, the australian gym mogul determined to buy it out from underneath her.
On paper they have nothing in common, and when they meet, they have even less.
The only thing they DO have is chemistry. Undeniable, rip-my-clothes-off-and-do-me-now-against-the-wall chemistry.
He wants her theatre. She wants him dead.
The stage is set for an explosive summer…
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‘I’ve left my keys downstairs,’ she said. ‘There’s a spare in your
set.’
He frowned, fishing his keys out of his jeans. ‘I havea key to
your door?’
‘You did, until now,’ she corrected. ‘I’ll have it back, please.’
‘Do you have one for my door?’
Genie sighed. ‘Yes.’
‘Then you can have yours back when I have mine.’
He really was a world class wind-up, and her temper
flared. ‘Stop being a dick and give me my key, Abel.’
He flicked through the keys and identified the one for Genie’s
door, then stepped forward and slid it into the lock.
‘Don’t call me names when I’m helping you out,’ he admonished her silkily.
She half laughed at the absurdity of his statement. ‘You’re not helping me. You’re trying to take everything I have. Believe me, I’ve called you far, far worse in my head. Be glad you only heard dick and liar.
’‘I haven’t lied to you, Beauty,’ he said, after a heartbeat, his hand still on the keys in the door. ‘Not once.’
‘You’re lying to yourself too if you believe that, Abel,’ she said,
her words softened by his term of endearment. ‘I sawyou the first
time you came here. You were turned on watching me onstage.
And again, watching me tonight.’
‘You’re dead wrong,’ he muttered, his eyes nailed to her door.He was close to her, and she could almost feel the anger contained in his taut body.
She wasn’t wrong and she knew it, and she sensed that
this went to the core of him. Reaching out, she placed a hand on his chest and saw him close his eyes in silent resistance.
‘Is it so bad to be turned on by me like this, Abel?’ she said,
feeling his heart beating hard against her palm.
‘Don’t fuck with me, Genie,’ he ground out, pushing her door
open. ‘I mean it.’
It was one of those moments when sense goes out the window
and instinct takes over. Genie tugged at the belt of her robe and
shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor in one fluid motion,
revealing her body in nothing but the nipple tassels and tiny crystal
g-string she’d left the stage wearing.
‘Is it so bad to want me when I look like this, Abel?’
He turned towards her and dropped his eyes, his palms scrubbing over his jaw as if he didn’t trust his hands if they weren’t occupied.
‘I told you not to fuck with me, Beauty,’ he breathed, almost
agonised, and she saw the exact, dangerous moment that his resolve snapped.
He shoved the keys into his pocket and then his hands were on her waist, lifting her up onto the hallway table, sending the lamp flying as he parted her thighs with his hip to let him in between them. Genie gasped when he tipped her chin back with his hand and dipped his head to her throat, the erotic drag of his hot and open mouth down her skin. The clean, aromatic scent of his hair surrounded her, dark silk falling over his brow as a
low, animalistic growl rattled through his chest.
Genie put her hands on either side of his stubbled jaw and lifted
his head to hers, desperate for his kiss yet still shocked by the
intensity of it when he finally gave it to her. Hard enough to bruise,
designed to punish, profoundly sexy. She gulped down air and
dragged his head down again when he lifted it, his crotch hard in
hers as he clamped her against him with his hand splayed on her
back, his other hand cupping the back of her neck. He held her as a
man holds a woman he adores, and he kissed her as a man kisses a
woman he needs to fuck more than he needs to breathe.
Her hands moved under the bottom of his tee shirt, and he
broke off for the briefest of seconds to drag it over his head before
pulling her into him again, skin to skin. The sensation blindsided
her; the heat and the beauty of him. Tanned deep bronze in the
way that only a man who spends his life out in the sunshine can be,
with a fine trail of dark hair traced on his midriff that she wanted to
follow all the way down into his jeans. His hands move to cover and
cup her breasts, making her moan into his mouth.
‘I warned you not to fuck with me…’ he muttered again, still
angry even as his mouth gentled over her jaw, grazing the skin
beneath her ear, drifted over her collarbones to the swell
of her breasts in his hands, somehow lewder for the scant cover provided by the crystal tassels than if she’d been naked.
‘You’re covered in fucking glitter,’ he spoke against her skin as
he dragged her hips forward to the edge of the table and trailed his
tongue over the top curves of her breasts. ‘You too,’ she whispered,
smoothing her fingers over the gold dust that had transferred itself
onto his shoulders, his cheekbones, his abs.
She drew in a shuddering breath when Abel lowered his head
and licked around the edges of the sequinned tassels. No man had
ever touched her in costume like this before. Having his mouth slide
around the tassels was just about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen
or felt, and her body screamed for his tongue over her nipples.
‘Take these off,’ he said, tugging lightly on the tasselled ends,
his restless mouth roaming the curves her breasts. ‘Ineed to taste
all of you.’
Genie groaned with frustration, wanting him to see her too.
‘They don’t come off easily.’
Abel grumbled low in his chest, like an animal denied
his dinner. Genie understood; she wanted him to feast on her just
as much.
‘And this?’ he said, bending to kiss his way down her
stomach and lick along the top edge of the crystal g-string. ‘Is this welded on too?’
She shook her head, although he hadn’t waited for her
reply in any case. He’d already dropped to his haunches, his
fingers splayed on her inner thighs, holding her open. His hands wer
e firm and tanned against the smooth ivory of her skin. He move
d the barely- there barrier of her g-string aside with one finger and studied her, intent and intense, his lips parted just enough for Genie to be able
to feel the warmth of his breath between her legs.
Genie’s heart stopped beating for a few seconds. She’d thought
that she’d wanted him to touch her in the lift, but nowhere near as
much as she wanted him to put his mouth on her now. And then he
did, slow, warm and sure, the sweep of his eyelashes dark on his
cheek, his earlier restlessness replaced by unhurried sensuousness;
pure gold. Watching him, she smoothed her fingers over his hair, saw each stroke of his tongue a second before the sensation hit her
flesh.
The first orgasm Abel had given her had been urgent and extreme, driven by the need for speed. Tonight he took his sweet time, paying attention to her reactions, licking her slowly, circling his tongue harder when it made her fingers grab into his hair to rock herself onto his mouth for more. She lost focus when he laughed, low and sexy, then eased his fingers inside
her, drawing her clitoris into his mouth. He had her and he knew it, holding her in his mouth as her muscles jerked and she dug her fingernails into the smooth bulk of his warm, sports-star shoulders.
His breathing was almost as shallow as hers for a few seconds,
and he turned his face to drift barely there kisses a long her inner
thigh before rising to his feet. His cock strained hard against his
jeans, but he caught hold of her hand when she reached down to
release him.
‘Go to bed, Beauty.’
‘Come with me?’ she asked, quiet, wanting him, wanti
ng to give to him as he’d given to her.
Abel shook his head, and Genie could feel him retreating
even though he was as standing as close as he could possibly be.
‘That’s not how this is gonna go.’
Confusion clouded her mind. She couldn’t get the measu
re of him. He wanted sex with her really, really badly. He might not have
said it with words, but his cock couldn’t lie.
‘How is it going to go then, Abel? You get to help yourself to my
body but I don’t get yours?’
‘Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,’ he said. ‘You were the one who
took your clothes off, lady. I took it that you needed servicing.’
‘Needed servicing?’ she said, repeating his dumb insult because
it took her by surprise so much.
‘You heard me right.’ He scooped her forwards off the
table with his warm hands on her ass and set her down on her feet. ‘And now you’ve been serviced, so we can both go and get some sleep.’
Genie hated that the sound that left her lungs sounded like a
strangled cat, but it was all she could manage, to articulate the rage
and frustration and loathing that formed in her chest as Abel
touched his fingers to his brow in mock salute and disappeared into
his apartment without glancing back.
Inside his front door, Abel kicked the nearest chair so hard it flew across the room and made for the shower. Again.
Inside her front door, Genie heard the smash. Half of her wanted to
go and force him to take what he so obviously needed. The other
half of her wanted to smash something herself, preferably
something heavy over Abel Kingdom’s stupid, beautiful head.
USA Today Bestselling author Kitty French is a total romance junkie; she loves to read it, watch it, and most of all to write it. Her sizzling Lucien Knight trilogy topped the amazon erotic charts on both sides of the Atlantic ~ everyone went crazy for Lucien
Knight, the wise cracking Viking sex god who can melt underwear from ten paces away.
Kitty lives in England with her husband and two young sons, and she is mildly addicted to fairy lights, wine and stationery.
She also writes romantic comedy for HarperCollins under thepseudonym Kat French.
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