Page 72 of The Attraction File

TWENTY-NINE

Edgar

I had Evaleen Bechmann begging me to stop. Pleading with me, but I wanted to give her so much more.

“Here, I’ll read this part. Their conversation. “‘Miss? he said in his thick Scottish brogue. The kilt, his strong arms, I couldn’t help myself. The need to touch him was too great. Decorum dictated a restrained approach, but something propelled me forward. His chiseled muscles—’”

“Okay, Edgar, you can stop now.” Evaleen yanked the book from my hands and threw it over her shoulder. It flew across the room and knocked a magazine off the side table next to the floral loveseat.

“That was my book.” I waved my hand toward the corner of the room.

“No, it was my book. I know what I wrote.”

Evaleen held strong. Her defenses were on lock down. Arms folded and eyes narrowed, shielding her from my potential onslaught. I could break her with one touch, I knew that now.

“The heroine, Evanna, thought he was a woman. When she discovered he wasn’t, she began to touch his arms, his chest. The hero, Eudard, is in front of her in line at a shop. He’s wearing a kilt. Why does that sound so familiar to me, Evaleen?”

She snorted and threw her arms in the air. Evaleen tried to turn from me, but I stopped her. I placed my hands on her shoulders. “Because that’s us, isn’t it? You wrote about how you first met me.”

Her chest moved rapidly. The scent of flowers filled my nose the closer I came to her. I tried to find her eyes but they remained glued to the floor. Her robe slipped open just enough for me to realize nothing was underneath it.

Evaleen finally looked up at me. “And what if it was? I’m an author. Sometimes I pull from my own experiences.”

My hands slid to her neck as my thumbs trailed the lines and hollows that they found. She swallowed and it rippled up my arm.

“Are they all me, Evaleen? Those heroes in your books.” I cleared my throat trying to push away the tightness that was taking over.

She wouldn’t answer, so I slipped my hand lower over her chest. The gasp from her lips caught my attention. I stared into her azure eyes as they deepened. She wasn’t stopping me. Her skin puckered, but that was the only resistance she had left to halt my advance.

The robe slipped open as if a breeze came along to help me. But it wasn’t a breeze, it was my hand and Evaleen did nothing to stop me.

I gazed down to find her breasts firm and slightly flushed, just waiting for my fingers. Her nipples were already spikes so I licked my finger and thumb and reached for one. The slightest pinch was all it took.

Evaleen’s head fell back.

“Are they me, Evaleen?”

Again, no answer, but her hand came to my shoulder as if at any moment she would fall. Which was smart because I was going to push her over the edge tonight.

I rolled her nipple again but went a little further. My palm filled with her breast causing her to whimper. Evaleen put her hand over mine but she didn’t pull it away, she pushed. Making my hand go farther.

What she didn’t realize was that she was chipping away at my control. I was losing it.

My other hand went up and mimicked what the other was doing. She rolled her hips and the robe fell completely open. I helped it along. I let go of her breasts and pushed her only covering to the floor. I saw everything and took advantage of that rare sight.

I took a walk. My fingers slid over her skin as I strolled around her body. And as I got behind her, my eyes drank her in. That ass was right there. The one I had thought about and lusted over for years. I wanted to cup it, fondle it, lick it, but I didn’t do any of that.

Instead, I undressed. This night wasn’t about her anymore. That was last night. Tonight, it was about us.

When she left last night, I thought she regretted what had happened. But when she told me on the plane about her past, how men had treated her, I realized how scared she was. Scared I would disrespect her as they had.

And when she said she was an author of those books, it clicked in my head. She wasn’t just frightened any man would hurt her, she was afraid it would be me. I had read her books. Her heroes were all so similar but I never thought much of it. I figured her readers liked that so it’s what she wrote. But now I realized she wrote those heroes because it’s what she wanted.

Now that I knew what Evaleen wanted, I could give it to her.

As I discarded my final item of clothing, I stood still admiring the silky curve of her back.

“Answer me, Evaleen. Am I the heroes in your books?”

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