Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 by Karen Whiddon (good e books to read txt) 📗

Her frown deepened. “Why are you being so secretive? You know me. I’ll tell you the truth. What is it?”

Feeling oddly vulnerable, he asked her to wait there, promising he’d be right back. Returning to his room, he retrieved his plastic container from under the bed. Other than his physical therapists and the people who’d accepted the donations at the women’s shelter, he’d shown them to no one stateside. Carly would be the first.

Heart racing, he carried the container in his hand carefully to the kitchen, where Carly waited.

“I carve simple, primitive toys for children. And anyone else who wants one,” he elaborated. “I started when I was a captive in Afghanistan and was able to use them to bargain with the guards for food or privileges.”

Her eyes widened. “And you’re wondering if there might be a market for them here in the US.”

“Exactly.”

“Colton Connections might be able to help with that,” she said. “Let me see them.”

He hadn’t thought of that. Colton Connections developed patents for innovative inventions. He guessed it wouldn’t be all that different from starting up his own toy company.

Slowly, he opened the box. Reaching in, he pulled out one of his favorites, a sitting dragon with wings spread that he’d perfected after carving over a hundred of them.

“That’s beautiful,” Carly breathed, taking it from him and cradling it in the palm of her hand. “I wouldn’t call that a toy. It’s more like art.”

Art. “I was thinking the first thing I’d have to do would be to figure out a way to mass-produce them. Kids seem to love them. My captors took them home to their children and, once word spread, I had a valuable sort of currency to exchange.” He shrugged. “I continued to carve them as part of my physical therapy, though I had to relearn to use my scarred and swollen fingers.”

He set the box down. “I make a little of everything. These days, I carve them because I enjoy carving.”

“May I?” she asked, gesturing toward his collection.

Slowly he nodded, wondering why he felt so raw, so exposed. He supposed he’d better get used to it if he truly intended to market his work. Still, he anxiously watched as Carly sifted through his carvings, taking out one and then another, running her fingers gently over the silky-smooth wood.

“They’re amazing,” she told him, the wonder in her voice proving she meant it. “Clean lines, no jagged pieces, though I’m guessing they’d have to be targeted for older children, who won’t try to chew on them.”

Grinning, he let his relief show. “Exactly. From what I understand, a lot of the preteen age group might want to collect them.”

“I love them.” Gently setting them back in his container, she crossed to him and planted a big kiss on his mouth. “I’m amazed at the things your talented fingers can do.”

The suggestive comment sent a ripple of heat through him. As she kissed him again, her body moving suggestively against his, he forgot all about his carvings.

They barely made it to her bedroom, shedding clothes as they went. Falling onto the bed and each other, they made love with the kind of intense familiarity that felt both comfortable yet passionately heated. As she’d been doing, she ran her fingertips gently over the ridged outlines of his scars and kissed them. Having her do such a thing reminded him of how he’d truly believed he’d been damaged too much to have a woman like her.

Clearly, Carly didn’t think so. She made it plain she accepted him as he was, scars and all.

Damn he loved this woman. He forced himself to go slow, to keep his raging arousal under control, until he’d helped her reach her own release twice. Only then did he unleash himself, pounding into her with the kind of mindless abandon that sent them both over the edge at the same time.

After, they cuddled. Eventually, Carly’s breathing deepened as she drifted off to sleep. Micha held her, allowing his gaze to memorize every beautiful detail of her, from the stubborn tilt of her chin to her high cheekbones. The feel of her lush body, pressed trustingly into his, was a freaking miracle he’d never take for granted. How he’d managed to get so lucky twice, he didn’t know. Despite all that he’d put her through, she’d given him a second chance. Briefly closing his eyes, he thanked the powers that be for allowing him to find her again. He couldn’t lose her. Not now, not ever.

Too fired up to sleep, Micha slipped out from under her arm and padded to the bathroom. When he emerged, he scooped up his clothes on the way and pulled on his boxer briefs before heading to the kitchen.

Once there, he poured himself a glass of water, pulled out his knife and the wooden dog he’d started for Carly, and got to work finishing it.

* * *

With sunlight warming her face, Carly stretched, her body aching pleasantly. She let her eyes drift open, rolling to her side to look at Micha. He still slept, turned on his side facing her, his unruly hair and morning shadow making him look sexy as hell, even in slumber.

They’d made love, slept and made love once more, before going back to sleep. Now birdsong outside announced the arrival of morning and she somehow, impossibly, wanted him again. How that could be, she didn’t want to overanalyze, so she made herself throw back the covers and make her way to the bathroom. After a quick shower and brushing of her teeth, she towel-dried her hair and pulled on a pair of panties and oversize T-shirt before padding to the kitchen to make coffee and, later, breakfast. Bridget followed her, eager to get outside and then have her kibble.

Flicking on the kitchen light, she let her dog out, waiting while Bridget took care of business. As soon as she was done, Bridget galloped back inside,