Miami Attraction. Elaine OvertonЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Dusty took Mikayla’s mouth in an urgent kiss. He kissed her as if he was a starving man and she was a feast.
Mikayla responded with an enthusiasm he’d only dreamed about. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tight, parting her lips to accept his hot tongue as it explored every inch of her mouth.
Dusty picked up Mikayla and within seconds she was beneath him on the large four-poster bed. His blue-jean-clad legs pushed hers apart so that he could sink into her body. Dusty was awed by how well their bodies fit together. It was as if she were molded just for him. But there was only one potter that could create anything as divine as Mikayla Schroeder.
He let his tongue roll over her neck in featherlight touches, savoring the shift of her body as she pulsed with pleasure. He slid his hand between their bodies and almost groaned at the heat coming from her center. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Not sure he could wait much longer, Dusty sat back and pulled his polo shirt over his head, before scooping her up in his arms once more.
Mikayla followed Dusty’s lead, removing her blouse. She went to unsnap her front-latch bra, but Dusty’s hands got there first.
“Let me,” he whispered in her ear.
ELAINE OVERTON
currently resides in the Detroit area with her son. She attended a local business college before entering the military and serving in the Gulf War.
She is an administrative assistant, currently working for an automotive-industry supplier and is an active member of Romance Writers of America.
Miami Attraction
Elaine Overton
MILLS & BOON
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Dear Reader,
Thank you for taking the time to read Miami Attraction. As we all know, everyone we meet comes from a different walk of life and a different background, and sometimes the parts of our pasts that we are most ashamed of are the parts that have made us stronger. They are the parts that have made us who we are today.
In Dusty and Mikayla’s story I have tried to express exactly that sentiment. These two characters find a way to embrace their future together, but in order to do that they must first learn how to heal the pains of their past.
I hope you enjoy their story.
Take care,
Elaine
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 1
Mikayla Shroeder stood outside the front door of her three-bedroom stucco bungalow in the South Beach neighborhood. She hesitated to put her key in the lock and open the door for fear of what awaited her on the other side.
She’d been gone from her home for a record seven days now, and despite the help she’d hired to deal with her problem, she held little hope much had changed in her absence. Still, she was near exhaustion and the thought of sleeping in her own bed tonight held too much appeal to resist. It was time to face the unavoidable.
On a deep sigh she placed the key in the lock, turned and steeled herself for what would come next. She pushed on the heavy oak door as it opened.
She waited. Nothing happened.
She pushed it even farther open until she could see the entryway leading to the sunken living room. She entered the house, confused by the silence.
At first glance everything appeared to be normal. The small cherrywood table that decorated the foyer was once again lying on its side. The small glass vase that usually sat on the table was smashed, with bits of glass scattered across the light oak wood floor, interspersed with the wilted flowers that once occupied the vase.
“Hello?” Stepping over the glass, she closed the door behind her and moved farther into the house, walking toward the living room. The recently purchased orange pillows that were supposed to line the bright red, box-styled sofas were thrown about the room. The round glass coffee table was still centered between the sofas, but the stacks of her favorite travel books were falling over on themselves and spilling off the table.
Despite the disarray, which was expected, the stillness of the place bothered her the most.
“Kim?” Mikayla frowned to herself as her confusion grew and along with it, her concern. “Angel? Where’s my sweet girl?”
Her calls were met with dead silence.
She walked along the short, cream, carpeted pathway that led around the sunken living room and rounded the corner into the kitchen.
The sink was full of dishes, except for the ones that had been pulled out of a bottom cabinet and tossed around the room. The dish towel was sprawled on the floor next to where both wood counter stools lay on their sides. The box of dog treats that usually sat in one corner of the counter was turned on its side and completely emptied.
Mikayla was crossing the room to pick up one of the stools when she heard the first sounds of life.
“Drop it!” A forceful, female voice came from the back of the bungalow. “I said drop it!”
Mikayla hurried toward the voice, passing through the elegant dining room and vaguely noticing the table and chairs were upright and properly positioned.
“Give it back! Bad!” The female voice was growing angrier. “Bad Angel!”
Mikayla rushed through the glass sliding doors that led to the backyard and pool patio, and stopped in her tracks.
“Bad Angel! Bad!” Kim Shapiro, her nineteen-year-old neighbor and dog sitter was standing, dripping wet beside the pool in a royal blue bikini bottom and nothing else.