Misplaced Princess (Foreign Affairs, Book One)

Free Misplaced Princess (Foreign Affairs, Book One) by Lexxie Couper, Mari Carr Page B

Book: Misplaced Princess (Foreign Affairs, Book One) by Lexxie Couper, Mari Carr Read Free Book Online
Authors: Lexxie Couper, Mari Carr
Tags: Erótica
first. The poor horse is soaking wet and—”
    “Hunter. I’m not blind and I’m not stupid.”
    He knew that. “Mum, I’m going to call him. I promise.”
    Hazel nodded, then walked back into the house. Hunter led Jamboree back to the shed as he considered what he’d say to Dylan. How could he explain that the woman he’d accused his brother of acting like a fool over had shown up and tossed his world on its ear? Dylan wasn’t just his brother, he was his mate, his best friend. Was he willing to risk that relationship over a woman he’d just met?
    The ache in Hunter’s chest made him very sad to recognize he might.
    Fuck it. He’d never been afraid to talk to his brother before. It was time Hunter stopped acting like such a chicken shit. He quickly finished cleaning the horse then retrieved the leftover food from the pack.
    As he strode to the house, he tried to clear his head, calm his nerves. Walking in the front door, he dropped the bag of food and picked up the phone. His mind was blank as he dialed the number. He listened to it ring, struggling to find one fucking word to say after “hello”.
    What could he say?
    Hey Dylan, I know you’re so crazy about Annie you traveled halfway around the bloody world to meet her, but would you mind giving up your potential soul mate so I can ask her out?
    Hunter grimaced. Yeah. That would work. The phone continued to ring. He could always blow off the emotional attraction he felt toward her and make it about something less intimidating. He and Dylan were never shy about discussing the details of their sexual exploits.
    Dylan, Annie’s so fucking hot I can’t keep my hands off her. She makes my dick throb so hard it’s a wonder I haven’t split the front of every pair of jeans I own. Would you mind if I drag her to bed and keep her there for a few weeks?
    Bloody hell. Just the thought of saying that felt wrong. He wanted more from her than a mere fuck or two. That was the real problem.
    All the arguments he’d laid out for Dylan on the way to Sydney International crashed down on his head. She’s an American. She lives half a world away. No woman from New York City is going to want to settle down in the middle of the Outback. It’s a waste of time, effort and emotion. A no-win situation.
    Dylan—the king of living in the moment—hadn’t had any answers to offer and hadn’t seemed concerned about finding them. He’d wanted to meet Annie and he’d found a way to make it happen. Hunter wished he could do the same, but it wasn’t in his nature. Where Dylan was a romantic bastard who leapt feet first, thinking of the consequences after the fact, Hunter was too fucking practical, a realist in every sense of the word.
    Dylan’s voice sounded through the phone and Hunter’s heart seized before he realized it was voicemail. He considered what he wanted to say once more. Then he simply said, “Dylan. It’s Hunter. Call me. We need to talk.”

Chapter Five
     
    Annie glanced at the clock. She was exhausted from tossing and turning, struggling to find sleep for nearly two hours. Her earlier nap had given her a cursed second wind. It also didn’t help that Hunter had fired up her libido to dangerous levels on that picnic. She was a ticking time bomb of horniness.
    The house had gone completely quiet nearly an hour ago. Hunter was in his office and she hadn’t heard him return to his room yet. He must be burning the midnight oil.
    Or maybe he was feeling as restless and needy as she was. She wondered if he’d take care of those needs on his own. She imagined him sitting at his desk, opening his pants and taking his cock in his hand. She grew wet as she imagined him stroking the thick flesh. He’d pressed his erection against her enough the past few days to convince her that he wasn’t hurting in the penis department. Would he stroke it slowly, savoring each tight press? Or was he a hard-and-fast man, moving his hand with quick thrusts that caused his breathing

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