Free Get Lucky by Lorie O'Clare Page A

dishwasher.”
    “Oh yeah? Sounds like you were so tortured.” She enjoyed hearing about his childhood and trying to imagine what it would be like being in a family where there were actually chores given. Any time her parents told her to do something, they’d forgotten they’d told her before she found time to do it. Although for the most part, her parents ignored her. She kept whatever house they were living in clean because they didn’t. They were always too busy plotting their next venture, or business deal, as they liked to call it.
    “Most definitely,” he told her, grinning and showing how little he was tortured. “Washing is the easier half of the task. When you dry, you have to not only dry the dish but also put it away. Usually the dish towel is too wet to keep drying dishes and so you have to get another one. Yet another part of one task. When you wash, that is all you do. This is the easier half of the job.”
    “Sounds like you put a lot of thought into the matter,” she said, laughing.
    “Yup. I was all about making sure Jake did more of the chores. I lived to see to that fact.”
    “So you were the oldest?”
    “Yup. And definitely the better of the King men,” he told her, suggesting there might be a competition between the two of them. “Jake is a player.”
    “And you’re not a player?” She twisted her damp dish towel and aimed it at him. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”
    Marc shifted his attention from her face to her towel. “I’d think twice before doing that,” he said, his voice lowering into a challenge.
    London let the towel go, releasing it with one hand and aiming low. The towel slapped against Marc’s waist before he ducked backward, his blue eyes suddenly glowing as his mouth twisted into an ornery grin. London’s heart skipped a beat and started pumping too quickly in her chest. She reloaded as fast as she could, aiming higher when he straightened and started for her.
    “You think I’m a player, do you?” He tried grabbing her towel.
    London jumped out of his reach, letting the towel fly again. It made a slapping sound against his chest. “What would you call it?” she asked, laughing even harder when he lunged at her.
    She barely made it out of his grasp and darted out of the kitchen. There wasn’t time to twist her towel again and reload before he pounced on her, lifting her off the ground. Her back was pressed against all that steel muscle and his arms were all bulging muscles. London lost her towel and gripped his arms but couldn’t budge his grip on her.
    “You would attack an unarmed woman?” she asked, barely able to get the words out as she laughed harder than she had in ages.
    “You attacked an unarmed man!” he accused, his voice a deadly growl in her ear.
    Her heart exploded in her chest. A warmth stretched over her body, causing immediate swelling between her legs and a tingling starting over her flesh. She’d had a few glasses of wine but not enough to make her drunk. As she continued laughing and twisting against his impossible grip, fumes flooded her brain. London might blame it on the wine, but suddenly she wanted to fuck him.
    “You’re twice my size,” she gasped, trying to control her fit of giggles when he hauled her into her dark living room.
    “Nonetheless, I’m unarmed so I must use what tactics I can to defend myself.”
    Her zipper moved down her back, his knuckles brushing over her bare skin. London did her best to flip in his arms. When she did, her breasts smashing against all that roped muscle, her dress slid off her shoulders, no longer hugging her body but now feeling loose and baggy on her.
    “That’s a crock.” She laughed, grabbing his shoulders so she wouldn’t slide down him. It was kind of nice being eye to eye with him. Not to mention, his muscular arms securing her against him and his hands cradling her ass was a turn-on she couldn’t ignore. “You’re using your size and body right now to win,” she