Free Too Wild to Hold by Julie Leto Page A

stepped off the path and after a few more minutes discovered a break in the hedges.
    Within a private garden, the woman they’d followed stood atop a circular terrazzo dais. She untied the knots at the shoulders of her Grecian-styled dress and then slowly, enticingly, allowed the material to fall into a dark pool of silk at her feet.
    Unabashed and completely naked, she fanned her long hair over her bare breasts, then posed as if she were a statue of Venus. The men—there were two now, the younger one who had escorted her here and an older man who had clearly been waiting—circled her with hunger in their every step.
    The older man wore only pants and boots. The other man remained clothed except for his discarded cravat.
    “You’re killing us, woman,” the nearly naked man complained, his arousal obvious even with his pants on, particularly when he grabbed his crotch and squeezed. “Make your choice. Put one of us out of our misery.”
    The woman laughed again. This time she threw her wavy extensions over her shoulder so that her dark, silver-dollar sized areola puckered proudly. She slid her hands up her torso, encircling her flesh with her hands and thrusting the upturned nipples even higher.
    “Why do I have to choose? Why can’t I have you both?”
    The men exchanged lascivious glances. The younger man hesitated a moment, then both of them began stripping away their clothes. The older man was thicker around the middle, but his penis more than made up for a bit of paunch.
    Claire swallowed hard, her mouth dry.
    Now who was the voyeur?

7
     
    M ICHAEL MOVED IN closer behind her, his hand protectively splayed on her stomach. She was instantly aware of everything about him, from the citrus scent of his shampoo to the leathery aroma of his boots. Through his clothes, he radiated heat, from his possessive touch to his resilient erection pressed intimately against her backside.
    When he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, the insistent thudding of her accelerated heartbeat nearly masked his words.
    “We should go.”
    She shook her head, bracing her hand over his in a move that gave her the contact with his skin that she craved and at the same time stemmed the fluttering in her stomach. She wasn’t even sure if this woman was Josslyn Granger. She forced herself to focus on the woman’s face and not the pouting roundness of her breasts, the imperfect yet sensual curve of her belly and the pear-shaped hips and thighs.
    Her client had sent Claire numerous pictures of his wife, but none like this. She called on all her powers of observation to make the connection between the demure woman in a wedding gown or the sweet young mother with her toddler and the brazen sex goddess being worshipped by her duo of lovers.
    But it was Josslyn. Claire could see it in the eyes. In the chin and cheekbones.
    Enough for her to know that the woman being pleasured by two men, out in the open where anyone might see, was the woman she needed to find.
    The older man stepped behind Josslyn on the dais, exactly the way Michael was poised behind Claire. But instead of holding the woman steady, he surrounded her generous breasts with his huge hands, then proceeded to caress, pluck and play with her nipples. At her feet, the younger man retrieved her gown and then shockingly drew the material up to her waist, knotting the fabric like a belt. While the man behind her buoyed her breasts in offering, the other one suckled her until she arched back and cooed.
    They were talking. The older man spoke English, but his companion’s words jumbled in some language that Claire couldn’t recognize, not with her brain fuddled by what she was seeing—what she was feeling. The thudding in her ears intensified when the younger man dropped to his knees and climbed underneath the woman’s skirt.
    With a squeal of delight, Josslyn hooked her knee over his shoulder. The sounds of the man feasting echoed against the mossy cobblestones.
    Claire’s body ignited,