Toxic Game Read online Christine Feehan (GhostWalkers #15)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: GhostWalkers Series by Christine Feehan
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
<<<<100110118119120121122130140>153
Advertisement2


Very slowly, her heart beating far too fast, she began to take the layers of Bubble Wrap from the object. Blue peeked out at her. Gold. It was shaped almost like a vase, but had golden feet and two scrolled golden handles. Then all air was trapped in her lungs and she could barely breathe as the last of the Bubble Wrap dropped away to reveal the Russian tea set warmer. It was exquisite, covered in blue peonies and gold.

The samovar was metal, but painted in exotic, bright colors. There was the traditional body base and chimney, the tap and key, which were gold as were the rings and vents and the drip bowl. It was beautiful beyond measure. The fact that he had found it for her, this exact replica, was astounding and made her want to weep with joy.

“How?” The tea set looked exactly like the one in the picture she had in her phone, the one she’d watched a family use to celebrate the birth of a child.

His smile started in his eyes, a warm rich color of navy blue enveloping her with love. The corners of his eyes crinkled and then his mouth curved. Her heart clenched hard in her chest, so hard she pressed her hand there, watching his white teeth flash at her and the lines in his face soften so that he almost looked boyish. This smile was reserved for her alone and it was full-blown, wide, bright and heart-stopping in its joy.

“When it comes to you, Shylah, I’m magic.”

She moistened her lips and handed him the samovar warmer. “I believe you are, Draden.” Her hands were shaking as she unwrapped the gold and blue teapot. “Can these be used? I can actually put boiling water in this little teapot?”

“Yes, and the samovar has been converted so it can actually be used as an electric kettle. That’s the newer thing, to take the vintage and rework them. I was fairly certain you’d want to use it.”

“Are these the cups?” She unwrapped a crystal glass that set down into a base, a hand-painted metal holder with golden filigree. It was beautiful.

“Six cups. I saw you run your finger over them in the photograph and knew they were important to you.”

Blinking back tears, she nodded and pulled out the tray. It was as intricately and beautifully painted as the samovar and teapot. For a moment she held it against her bare breasts, wrapping her arms around it and just looking up at him, knowing her heart was in her eyes.

“Thank you.” What could she say? There weren’t words to answer a gift like this. “You’re the most amazing man in the world, Draden, and no matter what happens, no matter how ugly it gets if this virus takes us, being with you and getting to know you is worth anything I might have to go through.”

Draden’s hands were gentle as they cradled her face. He bent down to kiss her. Instantly butterflies took wing in her stomach. He could do that to her every time. Melt her, the moment his lips brushed tenderly over hers. Who knew that her man could be so tender and so possessive at the same time?

He deepened the kiss, and her stomach bottomed out. He tasted like Draden. Hot. Carnal. Dark passion. Pure fire. She barely noticed that he took the tray from her hand and put the box down on the floor. His mouth never stopped moving from hers. Between her legs, she was already damp and needy, her clit pulsing with desire to match the dark hunger building in his eyes. He caught her legs and spun her around on the bed, so she was fully seated there.

“Scoot up against the headrest, sweetheart.” He put a pillow behind her back.

He was up to something, and that sent a quiver of anticipation rippling through her feminine sheath. She did as he asked without hesitation. When he got that dark look of lust, of sheer carnal hunger on his face, there was no resisting him.

He poured champagne into a flute and handed it to her. He poured one for himself and sank down onto the bed beside her, holding the crystal glass up. “To my woman. My everything. Here’s hoping we have our forever, even if we live it in just a few hours.”

They touched flutes, and both sipped at the golden liquid. The bubbles slid down her throat, reminding her of the way she’d held it in her mouth to surround his cock to let the bubbles lap at his sensitive crown. Her mouth watered for more of him and she couldn’t help looking to make certain he was as ready for her as she was for him.

He shifted in the bed and then took her drink from her hand, placed it on the end table and caught her hips. Without saying a word, he yanked her down on the bed so that she was sprawled out. His hands circled her thighs and pulled them apart.


Advertisement3

<<<<100110118119120121122130140>153

Advertisement4