Zoya Hart has been eluding her gold-digging stepmother for the last few years. Knowing that this woman will do anything to gain control of her and her late father's company, Zoya finds herself hiding out on a farm. Now, with a PI on her trail, Zoya'...
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The screeching, high-pitched sound woke Zoya with a start. At first, she thought one of the cats might be having a seizure, so she jumped from the bed and looked beneath it. All four felines huddled together. Blanche growled as if warning a predator. Rose joined in. Sophia and Dorothy cowered.
Zoya rose, and the sound pierced the air again. She eased to the doorway. Maybe Roman was hurt or having a bad dream. Stepping into the hall, she tiptoed halfway and stopped to listen. A low moan followed by short shrill gasps signaled a woman and advertised her activity.
"Yes, yes, yes!" the female screamed. "Oh, God. Oh, God, yes!"
Zoya's cheeks flamed. Her stomach spiraled. She wanted to run, but her feet rooted to the carpet. She pictured a blond sexpot tangled around Roman's muscular frame, long nails biting into his flesh while he pounded into her.
Moments later, he grunted, and the room went silent. Zoya's heart raced. Her body tingled. She'd never been this close to someone actually having sex. Well, except for the time she slept with Livvy. What she'd just heard didn't sound unpleasant. She wasn't sure how to describe it. Wild? Erotic? Pornographic?
A former word of the day she'd not been able to use came to mind. Amatory. Yeah. That was it. Expressive of, or inciting sexual love or romance. At last, she could mark it off the list because there was definitely something amatory going on in there.
Lost in thought, Zoya didn't hear Roman, but suddenly he appeared wearing nothing but jeans zipped, not buttoned. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. Still unable to move, breath caught in her throat as she flattened against the wall. She closed her eyes and prayed he wouldn't look her way, but when she opened them, he glared at her with a menacing grin that would rival the Kathy Bates character in Misery. He didn't speak, but went into the kitchen.
His scowl uprooted her feet, and she ran to her bedroom and locked the door behind her. She pulled the covers up to her chin and tried to sleep, but couldn't. Three hours later, she socked the pillow over her head to drown out more amatory.
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