Free Under His Skin by Emeline Piaget

whispering.
     
    “See you later ladies.”  I said I walked toward the door. 
     
    “Okay. I’m ready.”
     
    “Great!  I’m starving.  I hope you are too.”  He used his left hand to hold the door open for me and put his right hand on the small of my back.  My body warmed instantly.  I glanced back over my shoulder and they were both giving me the thumbs up. Quickly I glanced at his hand on the door, I’m a sucker for big manly hands and his were no disappointment.  He was well manicured but you could tell he was used to hard work.  I thought of his hand on my back and wondered what they would feel like traveling the length of my body, caressing my curves. Stop it Addison!
     
    He walked me to his car, a sparkling steel gray Mercedes Benz and held open the passenger side door for me.  He waited until I was safely inside before closing the door.  Wow, he’s such a gentleman.  I was happy if Travis remembered to hit the unlock button twice before I got in, especially when it was raining.  He walked around behind the car and I played with my hair nervously. 
     
    When he got in I watched the way his body moved, it was like he owned the word confidence.  He seemed sure of every move he made.  He started the car and put it in reverse.  It was a manual, which for some reason made him even sexier.  I watched him shift gears muscles tensing and flexing in his forearm and my body warmed again, because my thoughts were no longer on his driving skills.  My personal theory is that men that drive manual transmission cars make better lovers because they are used to being in control and making the car move for them and not the other way around.  They know the right amount of pressure to apply when shifting gears and how to handle it so as not to aggravate the clutch.  They are used to multi-tasking with their hands.  It was a theory that I desperately wanted to prove.

Chapter 13
    Stephen
     
    “How was your day?” She shook her head like she was shaking off distant thoughts. 
     
    “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
     
    “I asked how your day was.”
     
    “Oh… uh…” She stammered.  “It was great.  Very busy, no complaints here.”
     
    “Busy is good for business.”
     
    “It is indeed.  How was your day?  Did you work today?”
     
    “No, I have a classic car that I’m restoring.  I spent most of the day working on that.”
     
    “Oh, that sounds interesting.” She grinned like she was laughing at her own inside joke.
     
    “What kind of car is it?”
     
    “It’s a Black 1965 Ford Mustang Convertible, two door, eight cylinder, hundred a sixty-four horse power.”  I glanced over to see her smiling politely with a look like I was speaking another language. 
     
    “Sorry, I get excited when talking about it.  It’s a Mustang.”  She smiled a genuine smile.
     
    “It’s okay, honest. I just don’t know much about cars.”
     
    “I’d love to show you sometime.”
     
    “That’s sounds like a lot of fun.”
     
    We arrived at the restaurant just about ten minutes early.  I drove through the parking lot and saw that the closest spot was a good walk away.
     
    “Ristorante Lombardo, I’ve always wanted to try this place.”
     
    “Looks like I’m off to a great start,” I chuckled.  “If you don’t mind, I’m going to drop you off so you don’t have to walk so far.”  She looked shocked.
     
    “Oh wow, okay that’s fine.”
     
    I pulled up to the front door, parked, walked around and opened the door for her.  Again she looked surprised.  What kind of douchebags has she been dealing with that, this is new to her? I thought.  I parked the car and walked toward the restaurant.  As I approached the front door, I could see her standing with her back to the door, she looked so good.  I stood there for a moment to admire her, uninterrupted.  I felt my groin stir.  I was still amazed that she had that power over me twenty years later.  Was it that or