Free Golden's Rule by Billi Jean Page A

nearest couch and crossed his ankles. He squinted down at his boots. He could still see her though. The grey yoga pants and white top fit her perfectly, highlighting her lean lines and rounded, firm ass like a glove he wanted to wear. She amazed him. Nearly twenty-four hours before, she’d stood like some fairy princess dragged through the mud on a tabletop, pissed and ready to wage war on giants. Now all soft curves and warm woman, she threw him for a loop. He wanted those small fingers trailing down his stomach, finally circling his dick with feather light touches.
    Just the thought had him nearly groaning. He bit it back and the image. She was amazing. Much more than the toys he used for sex. Those women wanted one thing—sex with him. Beauty was light years away from what he got out of quick, hard fucking. She’d just woken without her memories, yet made him the best meal he’d ever eaten. She’d talked to him about things he’d not thought of in years—the beauty of the mountain sunset outside the lodge’s windows and the snow falling like stardust on the landscape—all the while making him hot as hell as she devoured her plate of pasta, salad, and soft bread with little sounds of appreciation.
    Hell, he’d loved every single bite of the meal. Add to it her sitting across from him, watching him like he was the centre of her existence and he’d been on the edge of tugging her over, pulling those yoga pants off and devouring her for dessert.
    But she wasn’t like his usual women—the toys—he had stashed all over the world. The travel hub here connected him to almost any city he wanted. He’d made sure of it. Within seconds, he could be with one of the women who would drop whatever they were doing simply to have sex with him. He wasn’t boasting, and the knowledge made him sick inside, dead in a way he’d not understood until looking into Beauty’s eyes.
    He had no idea how to proceed. He wanted her on a level that shouted to him, a warning he knew he’d ignore. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met before. She did things to him, inside him that made him uneasy, yet excited. Warmth settled over him simply being near her, as if he’d not realised until being near her, and seeing her soft smile of welcome, how alone he’d been all his life. He didn’t just want to fuck her though. He wanted—
    She turned and grinned at him and his thoughts stuttered to one primitive thought. Her. He wanted her.
    “This is amazing. Can I read?”
    He chuckled and the sound was so foreign but felt so right he shook his head. “I don’t know, can you?”
    She laughed and flipped the pages of the book she held open. “‘The first sign of a disturbance was when’…yep. I can.” Sounding happy as a cat with a bowl of cream, she hugged the book on the beginnings of the Death Stalkers to her chest, swept past him and sank down gracefully on the large couch, tucking one small foot under her, and smiled up at him. She opened the book like she was all set for the evening.
    I guess that decides how to go , he thought without a trace of resentment that he’d not be deep in her sweet, soft core. He paused halfway to picking up an old text he’d been meaning to study and analysed his response. He was almost, hell, not almost, he felt satisfied, more than pleased to settle down next to her and share her space. His erection was a full mass, but it didn’t shove him into frantic action, instead it simply added a pulsing anticipation to being close to her.
    He swallowed past a dry throat and picked up his book, settling nervously next to her. She smiled but didn’t look up. Instead, she did this little scoot so they were even closer and leaned into him while she turned a page. She shivered and snuggled closer, humming something under her breath, and slowly relaxed against his warmth.
    Instincts flared, but not the fight or flight rush of adrenaline. This was more possessive, more animalistic, than the mundane response to