Eleven Read Online Free PDF Page B

confided in me, “You know, I
have to tell you something. When you contacted me online, I didn’t
have any idea who it could be. But I sure was hoping it was you.
I’m awfully glad it was.”
    “ I certainly hope you didn’t
think I was too forward,” I replied.
    “ Not at all,” he affirmed,
“I’m rather glad you were. I kinda like a woman who knows what she
wants and goes for it.”
    Oh, I definitely knew what I wanted—and
it was him.
    We finished our wine and decided on a
restaurant. Not only was I satisfied with his suggestion of a
pricey steak house, I was damn pleased I had finally found a man
who knew what he wanted, as well. I had grown disenchanted with the
men I had known before that couldn’t even make a decision about
where to go eat. I despised hearing the reply, “I don’t care, where
you want to go?” It was refreshing to be in the company of a man
who knew how to take the lead; and knew how to treat a
lady.
    As we approached his pick-up, he proved
he was a true Texas gentleman by opening my door and extending a
hand to steady me as I stepped up the sideboard and climbed into
his passenger seat. A girl could get used to that kind of
treatment.
    Dinner conversation upstaged the
wonderful meal. The ebb and flow of our exchange was like a
perfectly timed dance. He seemed to take as much pleasure in
listening to me as I found in listening to him.
    Once dinner was over, we moved to the
restaurant’s dimly lit bar to continue our journey of getting to
know one another. We found a cozy spot in the corner.
    He asked me what I would like to drink
and placed our order with the waitress, “Dewar’s straight-up and a
Manhattan for the lady.”
    I sipped on my drink and felt its
familiar soothing warmth in my mouth and throat. Then he did
something that caused warmth to spread to other parts of my body.
Underneath our table, he softly placed his hand on my thigh and
began to slowly smooth the pelt of my suede pants.
    He looked at me with a hungry glance.
His smile had moved from his mouth to his eyes.
    He gently squeezed the inside of my
thigh, just above the bend of my leg and said in a deep, low tone,
“Those pants are driving me crazy, girl. I’ve been dyin’ to feel
them all night.”
    My breath became more rapid with his
touch. I tried to regain my composure.
    “Earlier in the evening, you had me
believing you might be a bit timid or shy. I think you just proved
my theory to be incorrect,” I teased; accepting his
advances.
    He responded, “I always have been a bit
shy before I get to know someone.”
    I jumped at the door he had just
opened, “So, tell me, just how are you once you get to know
someone?”
    He squeezed my thigh a little tighter
this time. His reply wasn’t verbal, but an audible,
“Mmmmm”.
    The Manhattan was bringing out my slow,
Southern drawl.
    I don’t know if it was the alcohol or
the obvious compatibility we shared that caused me to tempt him by
saying, “You wanna know what I think, Mister? I think that timid
smile of yours hides a dangerous man.”
    He grabbed my hand and brought it up to
his lips and kissed it. I had guessed right—his lips were velvety
soft.
    He placed his warm palm against the
inside of my thigh once again. His hands were large and manly. They
were tanned, but smooth and well-manicured. You could tell he was a
man who took good care of himself. I slipped my hand over the top
of his, running my fingers along the veins on the back. I slid my
fingers between his and squeezed.
    He lifted the glass of scotch to his
lips and took a big gulp, “Let’s get out of here.”
    We didn’t say a word as we drove back
to my place. I looked at the clock on his dash and it read 11:11.
Inner smile.
    He pulled up to the curb. This was it.
Oh, God. Just when I thought he was going to reach over to kiss me,
he reached behind the seat and grabbed our coats. He jumped out and
put his leather jacket on as he walked around the front of his
truck to my door. He