Levi's Blue: A Sexy Southern Romance Read Online Free PDF Page B

every line perfectly, visualize it in my head like I saw it only yesterday. 
    “Close your eyes,” I instruct Levi, “and give me your hand.”
    I turn my palm up, and he gives me his hand. It’s warm and heavy. Thick and masculine. It feels…capable.  Capable of wielding a sword in battle.  Of swinging an axe toward wood.  Of helping a woman out of a car, gently stroking her cheek, turning her into his willing slave.  Capable of making her beg.
    Flushing hotly, I turn it over and grip it from the back.
    “Close your eyes,” I reiterate.
    “They’re closed.”
    “Are his eyes really closed?” I call back to the class.
    “Yes,” several answer in unison.
    “Don’t you trust me?” Levi asks in that husky voice that’s meant for bedrooms and silk sheets and dark nights.
    “Am I supposed to?”
    “Eventually.”
    “Then I still have time,” I tease. After a moment, I get back to the project.  I guide his hand over the canvas, from the stem to the sunflower’s center, running his fingers back and forth over the petals.  The action almost feels too sexy for a classroom, like I’m rubbing his fingers over parts of me, letting him feel every line and curve.  I can nearly feel the sweep of his touch brushing over my skin.  “See how you can feel the shape of the flower?”
    “Oh, I feel it,” comes his hoarse, rumbling reply.
    Oh, God!
    His words, his tone…they make me twitch. Nearly groan.  My fingers flex involuntarily around his, so I suck in a breath and hold it for a few seconds, struggling for calm indifference.
    I don’t continue until I feel sure I can speak like a coherent adult.
    “Now we just have to fill it in.  Without seeing.”
    “The easy part,” he quips.
    “Yeah, the easy part.” I smirk.  “And there’s no cheating in this class, is there, guys?”
    I raise my voice at the end, and I hear Alana’s reply, a loud and vigorous, “No! No cheating!”
    “We are all equal in here, limited only by the bounds of our imagination.  So for today, I’m going to show you how to exercise yours.”
    “My what?” he asks.
    “Your imagination.”
    “Trust me. My imagination works just fine.”
    Again, it’s not his words so much as the inflection he puts on them that causes my stomach to flip over.  He makes me feel like a gangly, horny teenager, ready to strip off her clothes in the back seat of a car just to feel his skin on mine.
    I make no comment, just release Levi’s hand and reach into the top drawer of the table that holds my paints.  I feel around until my fingers brush soft cotton. I pull out one long strip and close the drawer.
    I turn to face Levi. 
    “Hold still,” I tell him.
    “Oh,” he says, his tone very telling. Undoubtedly, he’s looking at the blindfold.
    I try not to smile. I’m sure a man like him, a man like I imagine him to be, hates not being in control.  But that makes a situation like this all the sweeter.  And the best part is, he sought me out, so he’s got no one to blame but himself.
    “I think you’re enjoying this a little too much,” he muses as I fold the material lengthwise.
    “So what if I am?” I skim my palm up his chest and neck, toward the side of his face. “I…I have to feel where to put this,” I explain, pausing at his jawline. 
    “Feel as much as you want,” he permits in a husky purr.
    I slow my touch, switching to my fingertips rather than my palm, discerning, imagining, memorizing.  I allow the brightness that filters in through my sunglasses to give me a vague outline of his head and I touch.
    I don’t take my time like I want to, but I go slow enough to get some detail.  I feel a firm, square jaw, lightly dusted with stubble. I feel the hollow of one lean cheek and the high arch of a cheekbone.  I feel the deep-set orbit surrounding his eye, and I wonder what color the irises are. 
    I might not be able to see, but I can feel and interpret pretty well after all these years, and I know it won’t