Free Mr. Real (Code of Shadows #1) by Carolyn Crane Page A

emitting a low and breathy moan. Orgasming suavely. So very Sir Kendall.
    “Oh my god,” she breathed.
    Sir Kendall lifted her off the counter and pulled the remaining bits of underwear off her, everything so swift and efficient. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t keep saying Oh my god, but those were the only words that formed in her mind.
    She hadn’t had so much fun in...forever. Had he enjoyed himself? She picked up his button-less shirt, held it up. “LOL,” she said.
    “A decent dry cleaner can handle that.” He discarded the condom.
    “Sounds like the voice of experience.”
    He pulled his T-shirt back on and grabbed his pants. It was here that she noticed his ankle holster—with a gun in it. “Oh!”
    He smiled. “Come now, Alix. A man can’t vanquish his opponents through charm and ravishment alone.”
    It was weird how he always figured out what she was thinking. She stared at the gun, feeing unusually naked. She picked up her jeans and her top and clutched them to her chest. “Well, you sure vanquished my panties. I’ll be right back.” She turned and strutted off, pretending a confidence she didn’t feel.
    Upstairs, she washed up and put on new underwear and pulled on her jeans and sweater, then splashed water on her face and stared incoherently into the mirror.
    She’d just fucked Sir Kendall Nicholas the Third. And he was downstairs in her kitchen.
    The Denali man. With a gun.
    She was seized with the impulse to laugh, even though it wasn’t technically funny.
    The gun bothered her. But of course he would have a gun. What kind of spy wouldn’t carry a gun? But the thing was—it was a real gun.
    The Denali man.
    She smoothed a bit of shiner onto her hair and applied a fresh coat of pink lipstick. What the hell; the Denali man was fun. Sexy. And certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. She thought about the appreciative way he’d run his hand over the Italian leather chair, his jokey thing with the oven mitts. His sanity is for the timid bit. She was so going to use that line—maybe on Karen. Yeah, obviously he was a bit of an operator, but in another way, Sir Kendall really was her people, and they were having a lovely evening. She texted Karen a quick update: everything a-ok.
    A clink of glasses down below. Sir Kendall fixing them a drink? He would think of that. He was so funny. Probably going for the Denali.
    Shit!
    She raced back down to find Sir Kendall holding the Denali bottle she’d set out earlier. She lunged for it, grabbing it by the neck and yanking it away from him. In one swift, powerful movement, she smashed it over the stone counter. Glass flew everywhere.
    Quick as lightning, Sir Kendall had her wrist in his hand, and her other arm uncomfortably twisted.
    “Ow! What are you doing?” she cried.
    “I was wondering the same thing.” He glanced at what was left of the Denali bottle, the neck ending in jagged glass.
    “Oh.” She let the bottle drop and break; he thought it was a weapon. “I just don’t want you to drink the Denali.”
    He released her wrist and eyed her for a long moment, head tilted. “Why don’t you want me to drink the Denali, Alix?”
    She searched his eyes. He’d come, he’d spied, he’d romanced. But he’d been so good to her, and they’d had such fun. She didn’t want their night to end. She couldn’t let him drink the Denali and dissolve into nothing. It seemed…wrong. Should she warn him? But how to explain?
    “I’m waiting,” he said.
    “You want to know why I don’t want you drinking it?” She screwed up her mouth, wrinkled her nose, and plunked her fists on her hips. “‘Cause Denali sucks!”
    “But you set it out on the counter.”
    “Well, I thought it would be nice to serve, but then I tasted it, and I realized it’s not fit for human consumption.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “Denali never goes bad. It’s absolutely refreshing. Always just the thing.”
    “No, it’s not always just the thing, Nick, and I