Free Chosen by Desire by Kate Perry Page B

room, wearing white
gi
pants. His chest a chiseled work of art, just like on the beach Monday morning.
    She eyed the arrow of golden hair on his six-pack, lost her grip, and yelped as she slipped and the silk yanked her.
    Muttering under his breath, Max stalked to her. He spun her several times and then set her on the floor.
    “Whoa.” Dizzy, she reached out to steady herself. Except the only handhold she had was his biceps.
    Rock solid. She surreptitiously felt them up as she blinked to refocus. She told herself she leaned into him because she was off-balance from the aerial stunt. “Maybe I should have had a spotter.”
    Cold anger radiated off him in waves. “At the very least.”
    “It didn’t seem that hard.” God—his mouth was
right there.
All she had to do was get up on tiptoes to reach. Even set in an angry line, it was enticing.
    She recalled everything those lips had done to her in her dreams, and her face burned. She glanced at his abs, and her mouth went dry with the desire to nibble at the dips and grooves of the muscular ridges.
    Not a good idea.
She tried to edge away—from him and the urge to run her hands over his shoulders, down his chest, and into his pants. “I should get back to the library.”
    His gaze dropped to her lips, and she swore she felt some of his iciness melt. He took a step toward her. “Next time, come to me.”
    “Come to you,” she repeated lamely.
    “If you want to try something new,” he said, his voice husky.
    That spot between her legs zinged, and her body screamed at her to take him up on his offer.
    But she slipped around him and hurried for the door. “Thanks for the offer, but I should keep my feet on the ground from now on.”
    She headed back to the library, glancing at him once from the hallway. He watched her. She shivered, tempted to return to him.
    Next time, she’d stick with the apple pastries. They were definitely less dangerous to her thighs.

Chapter Twelve

    M ax stared at his ringing cell phone. The Keeper.
    Not answering was only going to put off the inevitable. But he wasn’t looking forward to telling his mentor he still hadn’t made any progress.
    Seven days since she arrived, and instead of recovering the documents or figuring out what Rhys’s part in this was, he’d succeeded only in driving himself insane with desire for her.
    Every morning he searched her room. He told himself it was for information. But the way he’d greedily seek out her scent—the way he was repeatedly drawn to the drawer housing the black lace—made a liar out of him. And a pervert, damn it.
    Grunting in self-disgust, he opened his phone. “
Sifu.
”
    “Your progress?”
    “None,” he said without preamble.
    The long-distance line crackled with the silence.
    “There’s more. She and Rhys have a—” What did he call it? He settled on “liaison,” though the thought of it made him go cold with fury.
    He could almost hear Sun Chi thinking. Max wasn’t entirely surprised when his mentor said, “Still this enmity with Rhys. Is it not time to let go of past differences?”
    Even though he expected this response, it still angered him. The phone cracked in protest of his tightening grip. “What’s between Rhys and me is hardly a difference.”
    “Are you certain?”
    Hell, yes, he was certain.
    Sun Chi sighed. “It’s a shame to lose one’s brother.”
    Max gritted his teeth. “A brother wouldn’t lie and betray you. He wouldn’t try to steal your most prized possession.”
    “Is that what Rhys did?” Doubt weighed each word.
    “Didn’t you call to talk about the stolen documents?”
    “Your focus does you discredit at times, Bái H. Yes, tell me your plans.”
    Max settled on a leather chair in the suite attached to his bedroom. “I hired her to do a translation for me so she’d be on my territory, but I haven’t reclaimed the scrolls. She has them with her, however. I felt the Book of Water when she arrived.”
    “Is it wise inviting the