Free Masters 02 Master of the Abyss by Cherise Sinclair Page B

taken her flannel shirt off and tied it around her waist, and her tank top showed off her tanned arms. Her skin had been so smooth…
    I should leave her be.
    Her head tilted back, and he could tell she was laughing. Damn, he liked her laugh. Her dark eyes would be dancing and…
    Don’t do this, Hunt . Even as he reached the end of the bar, she slipped away from Whipple and headed to her table, carrying two of the four drinks lined up on the bar. Well then, he’d just wait right here until she returned. His displeasure at seeing Whipple touch her had wrecked his judgment—and he didn’t give a damn.
    Whipple glanced over, then scowled and averted his eyes. The animosity was mutual. Mimi had broken up with the grocer just before meeting Jake, and after seeing her black eye and swollen lip, Jake had paid the bastard a visit. So no hugs and kisses from Whipple, and wasn’t that just a crying shame?
    “Hunt.” The old Swede serving drinks looked as battered as his tavern. “Gutt evening, youngling. What can I get you?”
    Jake grinned. The old man was the only person who’d called him young in two decades. “A couple of drafts.”
    Gustaf filled two glasses and set them on the bar top after swiping up a few miscreant drops with a grimy towel.
    After paying, Jake picked up his beer. Unfortunately the icy cold liquid didn’t divert his mind—or body—from Kallie. He was already half-erect from one look. Had he actually worried about his dick’s lack of interest?
    He leaned an elbow on the bar and watched as Kallie handed off the beers to the table of women. She said something to Rebecca, laughed at the retort, and headed back to get the two drinks she’d left on the bar.
    Jake moved a few steps out to intercept her.
     
    Why’d they decide to sit so far from the bar? Kallie wondered as she headed back to fetch the rest of the drinks. She dodged a staggering tourist, veered too close to Ben’s table, and had to slap the damned lecher’s hand away from her butt. A few steps later, she pulled old Verne to his feet and two-stepped down the middle of the room with him. She’d never seen him sober, but he was a happy drunk. Ten years ago, he’d given her country dance lessons in the parking lot after some jerk whose name she couldn’t remember had made fun of her. By the time Verne had been satisfied with her progress, she could outdance most of the town.
    He cackled and patted her shoulder. “Still got the moves, girl.”
    “So do you, Verne.” Her kiss on his leathery cheek made him grin so wide that his silver fillings gleamed at her. Laughing, she turned away and ran into a wall. A wall of very hard man.
    She heard a low chuckle, and firm hands gripped her arms to steady her. “Careful there, sprite.”
    Like snow in the hot sun, every cell in her body turned to slush. Knowing he’d undoubtedly notice his effect on her, she muttered, “Hi, Jake,” to his chest without looking up.
    “Kallie.” His voice rumbled across her like a mountain avalanche and had the same effect, knocking down every one of her resolutions. Her heart picked up speed, and even worse, she could feel her breasts contracting, her skin absorbing the heat of his hands. She might tell her mind to forget, but her body well remembered the feel of him against her. Thick inside her. His powerful hands—
    She tried to step around him.
    He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Are you not talking to me, Kallie?”
    His eyes were too blue in the tavern light, and the warm look in them made her long to burrow closer. But he didn’t want that. She didn’t want that. Okay, don’t lie . She shouldn’t want that. And she really, really didn’t know how to handle this. She forced a smile. “We’re having a girls’ night out, dude, and you don’t have the proper equipment.”
    She yanked away and continued to the bar. If he touched her again, she’d plant a fist in his gut. Maybe that was excessive, but, hey, he was into