Free Fool's Gold (A sexy funny mystery/romance, Cottonmouth Book 2) by Jennifer Skully Page B

Kissing is
unimportant. Touching is everything.”
    “So you don’t want to kiss me?”
    “Kissing is another advanced technique
employed by experts designed to make your defenses tumble.”
    “Hmm. That sounds like seduction. Maybe
you’re not such a nice guy after all.”
    “That’s what I’ve been telling you.” Then he
put his hand on her throat and his fingers on her chin and tipped
her chin up. “I want to kiss you. I want to touch you. I want to
taste you. I want to be inside you.” His lips brushed hers as he
spoke. “But for now, I’ll only do it in my dreams. Until I think
I’m gonna die. Until I beg you to put me out of my misery.”
    Ooh, she was in trouble. Very big trouble. He
made her tingle. He made her want to scream exuberantly, and the
consequences be damned.
    “I don’t know, Brax,” she whispered, “I might
beg you first.”
     
     

Chapter Five
     
     
    Maggie Felman stared at the chalky gray mass
on the platter. She’d made Carl his favorite, liver and onions with
bacon. Personally, she found it disgusting. Eating organ meat was
akin to cannibalism. But she was trying very hard to follow her
brother’s suggestions. Just as Tyler said, she was giving Carl the
benefit of the doubt.
    Carl wasn’t trying. The bastard.
    She’d kill him when he got home, absolutely
kill him.
    Staring once more at the ruined meal, she
wrinkled her nose in distaste. Why had things gone so wrong? And
when? Three months ago, four, six, a year? She couldn’t pinpoint
it, except that she got the sense it was about the time Carl got
into the outhouse thing. Or maybe bat shit had finally rotted what
little brain he had in the first place.
    She pursed her lips. That wasn’t nice. She
took it back. She’d never thought of Carl as a jobless loser, no
matter what anyone else said. After all, she’d married him because
she’d been attracted to his anti-rat-race philosophy. He made money
in...offbeat ways, and they were certainly far from destitute.
    Though the medical insurance bothered her.
They weren’t getting any younger, but Carl saved money by getting
one of those policies that covered only the major stuff. But there
was also a lifetime dollar limit. That’s what terrified her. Her
dad’s medical expenses had been astronomical. She’d hid all her
anxiety from Carl, which caused her to worry even more, and she was
pretty sure ulcer treatment wasn’t considered major.
    It had gotten to the point where they
couldn’t even communicate in bed. When they made love, it was
perfunctory. They used to make beautiful love together. She just
couldn’t remember the last time.
    Maggie swiped at a tear that had slipped down
her cheek. Another followed. Her marriage was falling apart. So was
her life. As much as she’d hoped, she knew Tyler’s visit wasn’t
going to fix anything.
    The front door opened and closed. Not Tyler.
She’d sent him off to Simone’s. She’d wanted an extra hour or two
to create this wonderful, stupendous, fantastic alone time with
Carl. And Carl had ruined it all, as he’d ruined everything else
with his silences and his office locking mechanism.
    “You’re late,” she snapped when she heard his
footsteps behind her on the kitchen floor. “The liver is ruined.”
She opened the door under the sink and slammed the plate against
the side of the garbage can until the leathery mess slid off into
the trash liner.
    “I didn’t know you were cooking. You haven’t
cooked in a long time.”
    Her self-pity died beneath another onslaught
of anger.
    She turned on him, narrowing her eyes. She
was so angry she could barely breathe. “What? You think Hamburger
Helper isn’t cooking? You think it doesn’t take time to thaw the
hamburger and brown it and add the noodles and stir and stir and
heat up a can of corn to go with it?”
    Her husband, the filthy rotten bastard,
backed up two steps. “Uh, no.” He clutched a paper sack to his
chest and watched her with a wary gaze.
    That pissed