Read Every Time I Love You for Free Online Page B

paintings.”
    “Trying to guarantee I'll make it, huh?”
    “It's true. I'm sure you want your own more aesthetic eye upon it all.”
    “Pose for me. You'll have a royal guarantee.”
    “Sorry. I can't be bribed.”
    “Too bad.”
    Brent stopped next to an old Mach I Mustang. “This is yours?” Gayle demanded, looking at the big black air scoops and wondering just how old the vehicle was.
    “It's mine.”
    He opened the passenger door for her. She sank into a nicely upholstered leather seat. He came around and sat down, quickly revving the engine, then looking at her.
    “I don't know where you live.”
    She gave him her address. A silence fell between them as he shifted out into traffic. She was almost afraid to speak. She had to know something about him.
    “Where do you live?” She asked.
    “North, towards Fredricksburg,” he answered shortly, then added, “a nice little house, with a big loft. I like it.”
    She nodded. It wasn't really what she wanted to ask him. She wanted to know if he was seeing anyone; she wanted to know just how many women he had had in his life. She wanted to know if he drank his coffee black, what he ate for breakfast, and if he slept in the nude or in pajama bottoms.
    The car stopped. She realized that they had come to Monument Avenue and her house. He wasn't moving to let her out. He had shifted casually, watching her in the shadows of night.
    She turned to him too. She didn't know if she should run or if she could possibly ask him in casually for coffee and brandy. She wanted to tell him that she was attracted to him but that he was moving way too fast for her. She didn't know what she really wanted at all, except that she didn't want him walking out of her life.
    She didn't say anything. She didn't know what possessed her, but she felt as if she had to touch him. She shifted; she reached over and cupped her palm around his cheek, feeling the stubble of his beard. She felt the pattern of his jaw and a pulse against his throat. And somehow she knew that if she kissed him he would remain passive for a moment, then become the aggressor, nearly ravaging her mouth.
    She brought her lips to his, lightly, and then she waited, but he didn't move. Some wonderful smell that was more pure male than cologne caused a riot of sensations to wash through her, and she hesitantly teased his lower lip with her tongue.
    His arms wrapped around her, strong and sure. And his mouth covered hers, his tongue plunged deeply and erotically into the recesses of her mouth. Odd, that he touched her lips and the excitement swept to her abdomen. It was wonderful. It filled a void; it began an aching.
    His fingers shoved at her coat, parting it. She felt his hand on her breast, thumbs teasing her nipples beneath the material. He wasn't still. His hand was on her thigh in record time.
    It was too fast, yet it was incredibly natural. She barely pulled back in time and when she did, she was flushed and felt ashamed. It was her own fault. She had led him on. She wanted him, she wanted everything. It was still wrong, and she had never acted this way before in her life. Like a tease.
    “What's the matter?” he asked.
    “I'm sorry.” She wrapped her coat around her shoulders. She couldn't look at him. “I'm sorry, really. It's my fault. I—uh—I don't do things like this. Not until I've known someone for a long, long time.”
    He didn't say anything for a while. At last he opened the car door and came around for her.
    “You don't have to walk me in,” Gayle said miserably.
    “Yes, I do.”
    She fell silent. He led her along the walk and to her door. He didn't try to come in. She stood there, awkward, ready to cry. In the hall light, he seemed very mature, very much the man. She thought again that he was striking, that he had everything, that he was fascinating, and that she longed to rest her head against his shoulder. She didn't dare.
    He touched her cheek.
    “Next time, my love, be ready to finish what you