Free Release by Beth Kery Page B

killed, but Sean dreaded the idea of questioning Genny about it.
    And if Max had shown Genny the videotape?
    Well . . . Sean figured he might have killed Max for less.

CHAPTER FIVE
    T he pleasant aroma of eggs, toast, and coffee, the warmth from the fire and encroaching drowsiness caused Sean to abandon his morbid thoughts for more practical matters.
    He drifted off.
    His stomach growled, rousing him just minutes later. He cracked open his eyelids and saw a vision.
    Genny walked toward him wearing a soft-looking light blue sweater and tight jeans that showed off coltish long legs and the enticing curve of sashaying, feminine hips. He reluctantly removed his heavy-lidded gaze from the juncture of her shapely thighs and looked upward.
    And to top off this unearthly vision of loveliness?
    She carried a plate with an egg, cheese, and ham sandwich and a steaming cup of coffee in her hands.
    “Angel of mercy,” he murmured.
    “Where your stomach is concerned, anyway,” she replied dryly before she set the food on the coffee table in front of him.
    He caught her hand and pulled her down in his lap when she tried to walk away. A little yelp of surprise popped out of her throat when her ass thumped down on his thighs. He wrapped his arms around her ribs and pressed his mouth to her throat, as if to soothe those jostled vocal cords. He felt the tension in her sleek, soft body, but he kept on holding her anyway.
    Selfish. Kids who never had anything always were.
    It never struck him that what he said next was in direct opposition to his thoughts, despite the fact that he’d never been more honest in his life.
    “I’d do anything to make things right for you, girl.”
    She went still in his arms. He held his breath when he felt her hand move. Her fingers stroked the hair at his nape, furtively at first. A shiver of pleasure rippled up his spine when a fingernail scraped his scalp.
    “Just don’t . . . don’t fret about it anymore. Okay, Sean?” He pursed his lips against her skin, feeling her earnest plea vibrate from her flesh to his.
    “I won’t if you won’t.”
    Her fingers stopped moving in his hair when she recognized the hint of a dare in his tone.
    He twisted his face, rubbing his whiskers into her neck. She jumped in his lap. Her initial shriek of alarm segued into hysterical laughter. He played her ribs with his wriggling fingers. Her squirming ass in his lap consisted of the sweetest kind of agony. Her loose hair swished around him as she giggled and struggled, perfuming the air with its clean, fruity scent.
    Sean released her after their little tickle and tussle match when he realized his intentions were turning to things besides getting Genny to relax at his touch. He planned on touching her a lot in the next few days, and the sooner she acclimated to that fact, the better.
    She scrambled out of his lap and stood unsteadily. Her glare of condemnation didn’t bother him overly much. A grin fought against a scowl on her pretty mouth.
    She wasn’t going to run—at least not right now. He could just tell. The opportunity to spend time with her, to coax her back into his life beckoned to him like a whispered promise.
    Genny’s expression turned suspicious when she noticed he was grinning like an idiot. “You know I hate to be tickled.”
    “I seem to recall something about that . . . yeah.” He was distracted by how soft and firm Genny’s heaving breasts looked beneath her sweater. The shine in her gray eyes that had been so wary and sad just minutes ago made him happy beyond reason.
    She snorted and picked up the cloth napkin she’d placed beside his plate and tossed it at his chest forcefully. “Just eat your sandwich before it gets cold, boy.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said, his gaze fastened on her swaying ass as she stalked away. He shook his head as if to clear it when she passed out of his vision.
    Damn, he thought appreciatively when he bit into the chewy toasted Italian bread that surrounded