Toxic Game Read online Christine Feehan (GhostWalkers #15)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: GhostWalkers Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
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The pad of his thumb moved back and forth over the ring, and all the while he looked down at it. “You happy with this choice?”

“I love it. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He tugged until she stood up. She was a little wobbly at first, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. “We need to eat.”

“I think you’re right. I’m starving, but I’m too weak to make it to the table.” She rubbed her face on his chest like a cat.

He caught her hair in his hand, crushing the silky strands into his palm. “I love you, Shylah. Thank you for marrying me. It was important to me.”

“It was to me as well.”

She looked up at him again, all wide-eyed, something close to adoration on her face. His heart stuttered in his chest. To have a woman like Shylah looking at him with that expression was almost more than a man could take. He took her mouth because he was helpless to do anything else. Around her, he was certain, he wasn’t going to have a tremendous amount of control.

He kissed her, tasting love in her kisses. Fire. Her passion for him was every bit as strong or stronger than her passion for life. She lived life large, and clearly and she loved him with that same intensity, as he loved her. Shylah didn’t hold back. She wasn’t coy or embarrassed about showing him how she felt, and that was more of a turn-on for him than anything else ever could be. She wanted him, and she let him know she did.

When he lifted his head again, his gaze blazing down into hers, she gave him that same little rub on his chest with her face, a cat purring her love. “I need to get dressed, but it feels like too much effort. I think my arms and legs have turned into spaghetti.”

“You don’t need clothes to eat dinner with me,” Draden pointed out.

She looked a little scandalized. “You want me to sit at the dinner table nude?”

“You’re wearing heels and jewelry. I don’t think you need anything else.” He grinned at her. “Are you afraid the neighbors are going to stop by unexpectedly?”

“Is this going to be a regular thing? Dinner and no clothes?”

He nodded slowly, his eyes moving over her body. He’d never get enough of looking at her. “We might lose a few dishes now and then when I sweep them on the floor and have you for dessert.”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “I suppose sacrificing a few dishes isn’t such a bad idea.” She took a step toward the cases he had opened. “What did Joe send us?”

He pulled out the dishes. Two beautiful white plates rimmed with gold. Crystal champagne flutes rimmed with gold. Gold silverware. A white tablecloth with golden threads woven through it. He handed it to her, and she smoothed it over the little wooden table. Her hands lingered over it.

“Draden, this is so perfect. I can’t believe you did this for us.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, and his heart clenched.

“I can’t take credit for the dinner. The team sent the rest to us.” He handed her the plates and stemware. “Which means Joe.”

The bucket of ice with the chilled champagne bottle in it he placed on the table himself. The food smelled and looked amazing. The heated plates were covered in silver warmers and Draden placed the items on the china. Prawns served in ginger and lime sauce were in one server. Filet mignon, potato and mushrooms in another and grilled asparagus in a third. At once the aroma filled the room and he found himself starving.

He seated her in the chair across from his, leaning down to kiss the vulnerable nape of her neck before opening the champagne and pouring it into the two flutes. Her fingers brushed his semihard cock and, just like that, his body responded.

“You do want to eat our wedding dinner, don’t you?” He put the flute into her hands.

She nodded, but her eyes were on his groin. Her tongue slid out and she licked her lips. “I don’t know. I think so. You look like dessert to me.”

She was deliberately putting images in his head, building them carefully with erotic, descriptive words. He could see them in her head and that had never happened before—seeing instead of hearing. Her fingers were already settling over his hip and urging him closer to her chair as she took a sip of the bubbly golden liquid. Not once did her eyes look up. He knew better, but he allowed her to pull his body in close. His cock had grown as hard as a rock.

“Baby,” he cautioned.

She ignored him and leaned forward, her breath on the smooth, now throbbing head. Her tongue slipped out to taste him. A cautious foray. Just that took his breath. She got bolder and licked, as one would an ice cream cone. Without warning, her tongue swirled around the sensitive head and then she licked from base to tip. Her hands cupped his balls, gently squeezing and then her mouth was there, exploring, sucking gently.


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