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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My mouth needs to be somewhere else.

At once she had the image of her legs over his shoulders and his mouth feeding at her sex. It was so erotic she squirmed, nearly feeling him there, his tongue lapping and stroking, his teeth teasing. It was too much to think about.

Devouring you, he corrected. Eating you like candy. Claiming what’s mine.

It was a dangerous game the two of them were playing, when he had seemed so determined not to get physical. Claiming what’s mine, she echoed. I like that. I like feeling as if I belong with you.

He came up behind her, his arms sliding around her, tight, under her breasts, holding her while they both stared out at the storm. It was nearly upon them now, lightning forking across the dark, purple sky, lighting up the canopy for a few seconds before it went dark again. The clouds were thick and nearly black, rolling and heaving as if in fury.

Draden’s mouth went to her neck, kissing her, teeth scraping back and forth. She shivered a response, her sex clenching, needing him more than ever. He suckled there for a moment, and then kissed his way to her shoulder.

“I really want you,” she admitted. “We both have the virus. Your friend said so. If we both have it, it doesn’t make any difference what we do. Right?” She wasn’t above asking for what she wanted. She didn’t believe they were miraculously going to be saved, no matter what his friend said. She knew he didn’t believe it either. It wouldn’t matter who asked first, once they both were dead.

He pressed his body tighter against hers, so she could feel the evidence of his desire imprinted in her skin. “Go lie on the bed. We’re going to talk, and I want to look at you while we do.”

Staring at his reflection, she lifted her chin. He didn’t seem to realize that his thumbs were sliding back and forth across her nipples. Each touch sent that sweet, sweet wildfire roaring through her veins to settle between her legs.

“Fine. We’ll talk then.” She moved out of his arms, but she drew the tank over her head and tossed it onto the small kitchen table as she passed by it. He wanted to look at her, then he was going to look at all of her. Every last inch of her.

Deliberately she swayed her hips seductively as she walked away from him to the side of the bed, unzipping her jeans as she went. Keeping her back to him, she shimmied the denim down her long legs, bending at the waist to pull them off, first one leg, and then the other. She’d practiced the move a hundred times, pretending she was dancing for her man. She wasn’t certain what effect it had on him because her back was turned, but the books she’d read and the instructional videos had assured her that her man would love it.

She heard his breath hiss out between his teeth and a small groan escaped. Both made her smile. She was making progress. She flipped her hair over her shoulders as she sank down onto the mattress, leaning back on one elbow, one knee drawn up while her other leg stretched out at an angle.

His gaze dropped from her breasts to her gleaming sex. It was all she could do not to touch herself, but she forced herself to wait for the right moment. She knew one would come. The front of his jeans held a large bulge, thick and definitely long. She kept her gaze fixed there.

“I’m waiting for your explanation of the delay.”

“Can you pull the blanket up?” There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

She smiled and licked her finger. “No, I can’t.” She slid her finger over her right nipple. It was already erect, and the light touch made her shiver.

“I need your complete attention, Shylah.”

“Believe me, honey”—she made her voice purr—“you have my complete attention.”

He was wearing only his jeans. His chest was all muscle, his abs out of a magazine. She licked her lips and then put one hand on top of her knee. Waiting. Eyes on him. Watching him start to sweat. Tiny beads she wanted to lick off of him. As a seductress, so far, she was batting zero. If this didn’t work, it would definitely be okay if she died because she wasn’t certain she could live with the humiliation of rejection.

“Damn it, Shylah, I murdered several people and Whitney knew it. He had video of me killing them. That was what he threatened me with. That’s what I’ve been living with all these years, knowing at any moment he would use it because I refused to be blackmailed.”

There was an abrupt silence with only the sound of the rain hitting the windows and drumming a wild rhythm on the roof. His breath moving in and out of his lungs. Her breath coming slow. Her heart pounding to match the wild wind, not because of his confession, but because she wanted him desperately—even more now that he’d made his revelation.


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