BWWM Romance: Crossing The Line: Interracial Romance / Wealthy Love Interest Read Online Free PDF Page B

fast snare exploded in his brain. Taking the pick from between his teeth, he let his fingers dance across the fret board and over the strings. The wine- red Gibson Les Paul Classic sang for Virgil. He closed his eyes and let it suck him in. The song felt like it was woven from the blood vessels in his wrist. He had been writing it since the first time he laid eyes on Shawna, and the last two days he had spent with her helped him fill in the gaps.
    If he had his choice, Virgil would do nothing more than write music and see Shawna in the throes of ecstasy. He loved her taste and the thickness of her body. Every line and curve felt contoured to his hands and his alone. Soft skin smelling of floral lotion and tasting like salty sunlight made him hard every time. Her eyes, so velvety and trustful but also full of curiosity made him feel seen in a way that was almost scary but deeply arousing. And the way she melted beneath his touch and giggled, welcoming his advances, amplified his desire a hundredfold. She might be quiet and soft, but she was always hot and ready for him.
    Suddenly, the sound dropped out from under him, and Virgil hit every sour note his fingers could find. Snatching the headphones off, he searched for the source of the disruption. He didn't have to look far. Virgil's mother leaned against the wall next to his amp, swinging the outlet cord. Her brittle presence made his thoughts feel both dirty and childish.
    "Where've you been?" she asked. "Not looking for a job, I suppose."
    "I have a job," Virgil said darkly.
    "No, you volunteer as a fucking painted, party clown for drunk―albeit more successful than you―college kids."
    Virgil took a deep breath and pressed his hands into his thighs. She was in one of her moods, and it was Virgil's misfortune that he was at home. His house and studio were both on his parents' property, but his mother still had to either walk or drive the equivalent of six city blocks to get to him. The seething rage had his name on it either way. Better to get it over with while the day was still young. Before he could reply to her attack, his phone rang. The timing couldn't have been better. Avery's Towing Co. called Virgil back in regard to his application.
    Virgil had never lived away from home. After he dropped out of art school, he had an agreement with his father that as long as he continued booking gigs and kept working on trying to get a recording contract, Virgil could stay on the property rent free. His father had given up his dream of music at a young age and regretted it every day. His mother, however, wasn't as understanding or sympathetic. Music was a waste of time. Art was something you bought cheap and mass produced. Money was the only language she spoke, and if you weren't about money, she didn't want to have anything to do with you.
    Melinda narrowed her eyes at Virgil and crossed her arms. "What are you up to?"
    "You wanted me to get a real job. So, I'm getting a real job."
    "No, no, no. You and your father don't believe in real jobs. What are you up to? Are you doing drugs?"
    "Drug addicts don't get jobs, Mom. I'm not on drugs. I simply want my own money for once." Which was true. He didn't plan on asking his father for money to wine and dine Shawna. He wanted the fantasy of her popping in on him at work and bringing him lunch (a sandwich cut in half, a piece of fruit, two cookies in a napkin). Thinking about little, cute domestic things involving Shawna made his heart flutter. This was important to him, and not even his controlling mother was going to change it.
    Melinda stepped in Virgil's path and pointed a well-manicured finger in his face. "Whatever it is you're up to better not embarrass me."
    "I think you do enough of that for the both of us. Why don't you have another drink?"
    "You’re lucky you're your father's favorite, or I'd put you out on your good-for-nothing ass."
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    V irgil hopped in his truck and sped out of the driveway, twisting the steering wheel