Read Online The Alexandra Series by Lizbeth Dusseau - Free Book Online Page B

scene, lots of girlfriends, drinking, out late partying, drugs, sort of thing people expect from artistic types—which is really a bad stereotype. Thought it was good for my muse. After a while, I wasn’t doing any art at all.”
    “Sounds a little dangerous to me.”
    “It was sometimes. That’s why I had to clean up my act.” He laughed. “Freedom. That was what I was looking for. No strings. No rules. I was the proverbial bad boy doing whatever struck my fancy. But that life lost its luster. When my darker urges began to posses me, I spiraled into depression. Not pretty.”
    “What made you stop?”
    He shrugged.
    “Woke up one day, saw the shithole I was living in, and I was so embarrassed that I decided something had to change. I cleaned up my act as the saying goes. Now…I don’t mind getting a little crazy once and a while, but most of the time I live a pretty quiet, ordinary life.” He grinned. “Well…not exactly ordinary. I’d never want to be that.”
    I sighed. “And me…I’ve been living squeaky clean all my life, wishing I’d done something really crazy.”
    “Scared you’ll get hurt? Do something wrong?”
    I nodded.
    “There’s nothing wrong with a little hurt—makes you know you’re alive. Like the other night on the stairs.”
    I hadn’t thought about it that way. “Well, I was certainly, painfully alive that night.”
    “You’ve got to take some chances, Alex, do the unexpected.”
    “Right.” I blushed again, and we were quiet for a time.
    “Would you like some spaghetti?” I finally broke the silence. “I’m kind of hungry.”
    “Giuseppe’s?” he suggested.
    “No. I have some homemade sauce in the fridge. There’s plenty.” I promptly rose and busied myself, pulling cartons out of the refrigerator, starting the pasta water. He joined, helping himself to the contents of my fridge, pulling out salad items, rummaging through my cabinets for a bowl and throwing together a salad, done before the pasta water was ready. Having a man in my kitchen was awkward and pleasant and fun and frightening.
    As we ate, the conversation was light and less threatening than it had earlier been. His charm, his good looks, the easy way about him had me wanting him more than ever.
    By the time we cleared the table, I could taste the desire on my lips and feel the vibration of it all the way to my toes. As I was filling the sink, he dropped plates into the soapy water. I felt his breath against my neck, and a shiver of want when his body grazed against mine. And when he placed his hands on my waist and gently kissed the back of my neck, the sudden rush of energy between us made me gasp. Will dried the dishes looking at me as if he had plans in mind – I could almost hear the gears grinding in his head. I smiled and looked away, still feeling self-conscious and awkward in the presence of the man. When the last dish was neatly tucked into the cabinet above, he pulled me in close to him. I shuddered but I didn’t push him away.
    He kissed me lightly – flirty, erotic kisses that barely brushed my lips. Soon they were wet and sensuous, his mouth opened and his tongue began to dance around mine. The embrace became more passionate with our bodies pressed together. He felt for my breasts beneath the fabric. This his kisses moved down my throat, and my body lit up everywhere his lips met my skin, and his hands touched. His fingers deftly worked the buttons on my blouse until the two sides of it dropped away. He stepped back and pushed it off my shoulders, while I trembled, nervous and afraid.
    “Will, please,” I said in gentle protest.
    He shook his head, and laid his finger against my lips. “Shussssh. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
    He unfastened the closure of my lacy bra and let the two soft mounds free. I thought I’d orgasm on the spot as his smoldering eyes surveyed my chest. Without even looking down, I could feel my nipples tightened into hard knots under the intense gaze.