Toxic Game Read online Christine Feehan (GhostWalkers #15)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: GhostWalkers Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I wanted you to have a wedding day, Shylah. You deserved it.”

“You brought Zara and Bellisia to the ceremony.”

“I can perform magic once in a while.” They moved together on the narrow path leading to the ranger’s cabin. It was in sight now, the moon giving it a kind of halo in the high humidity. The air felt sultry. Hot. Or maybe it was his need of her. He wanted out of his clothes, and he wanted her out of that beautiful, formfitting dress.

On the porch of the ranger’s cabin were two cases clearly holding food. As another surprise, Joe had catered a small dinner for the two of them and the cases had been set on the porch of the ranger’s cabin by two soldiers dressed in hazmat suits. They were long gone before Draden and Shylah arrived.

Draden picked up Shylah, skirted the cases and opened the door. He carried her over the threshold, promising himself if they got back to the swamp, he would do it again to officially welcome her to their home. She settled her arms around his neck and when he went to put her on her feet, she kissed him.

He was already hot and the moment her lips moved against his, his head seemed to explode. He barely managed to kick the door closed before he was carefully undoing the bhaku and casting it aside, still kissing her. Over and over. He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t get enough of her. He managed, while he kissed her, to shrug out of the jacket and his own bhaku, leaving just his golden trousers. If he wanted her, he had to lift his head and take care of business, but his mouth had other ideas.

Shylah was left with just the golden sarong and the ruby necklace and earrings. Her skin had a glow to it. Shylah had high firm breasts, full and rounded, and he didn’t hesitate. Both hands cupped the soft weight and he kissed his way down her chin to her left breast. She tasted like heaven.

“Take the sarong off, sweetheart, and then my trousers.” He wasn’t going to sacrifice one minute of having her body to a mundane task, although removing her clothes could be sexy as hell under any other circumstances. He toed off the loafers he’d worn to speed up the process of getting rid of anything between the two of them.

Shylah gasped when his fingers tugged at her right nipple while his tongue and teeth worked her left. Her breath hitched and then rushed out with a little keening cry that got him right in the cock.

“Hurry.” It was a command. An order. Almost a plea, but he felt her hands drop to his trousers, loosening them so they would drop around his ankles where he could kick them off.

She stepped out of her sarong, leaving her in nothing but her gold and ivory heels and the rubies and gold bracelets on her wrists. She hadn’t bothered with underwear. It was too hot, and they were constantly washing out clothing. He kissed his way down to her belly button. He spent time there, licking along that sweet treasure before lifting her to carry her to the bed, under the large overhead fan.

He hadn’t turned on any lights, but he didn’t need them. The moon was nearly full, and the cabin was surrounded with windows on every wall, so the silvery light spilled across the bed and her body. He came down over her, framing her face and kissing her again. Devouring her fire. That mouth promised paradise and then delivered in the form of flames.

Then he was at her breasts again, this time leaving his mark. She cradled his head and arched her back, giving him full access to her without hesitation. Her soft cries of encouragement fed his hunger. His hands couldn’t stop moving over her, shaping every curve, taking his time, memorizing her so that he’d know her body anywhere, light or dark, she was imprinted on his brain.

He wanted his last memories to be of this, the softness of her skin, the sounds she made, the way her fingers felt in his hair as she held him to her. Shylah was perfection, her body moving under his. The soft cries she made, those sounds he wanted to hear in his mind before the end came.

Her fingers stroked along his back, sending waves of pleasure down his spine. Then they pressed deep and her nails were biting into him as his teeth scraped and his tongue stroked. He kissed his way down her body, using hands and mouth to know every inch of her intimately. Her legs were slender and went on forever. He especially loved that about her. It felt to him as if he could wrap his hands around her thighs and he did just that, pulling them apart, giving him access to what he wanted.


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