Free Touching Melody (A Forever First Novel) by Rashelle Workman Page B

Handcuffs. Whips. I glance at Kyle. He doesn’t look like that kind of guy. But then I’m clueless. Maybe most guys like what he likes.
    Is he saying people will think I’m into whatever he’s into? Ugh, it’s so frustrating. While my mind is swimming in wild thoughts, my thighs are lit up like the Fourth of July. Obviously sex is about a lot more than having babies.
    “Mind if I turn on a light?” Kyle asks, pulling me out of my contemplations.
    “No.” I can’t seem to find my shoes, or more specifically, Gina’s shoes.
    The light flickers on and I catch him staring. “So, there might be talk—about you. I’m sorry.”
    He’s apologizing? I can’t believe it. There’s no doubt that if Stuart had taken me back to his place, the scenario would be different. I might not be a virgin any longer.
    And I can’t help but think of Gina. Is that what she meant when she said she asked for it ? My stomach twists and my head whirls. I have to sit back down.
    He walks over and picks up a glass full of water and two white pills. “I tried to get you to take these last night.”
    I take the glass and the pills.
    “They’re pain relievers. Nothing dangerous.” I hear the smile in his voice and look up.
    “Thanks.” I drink them down in two swallows and set the glass back on the nightstand. The water is refreshing. He’s refreshing. I don’t see or sense an evil bone in his body.
    But then Gina didn’t say he was evil, just kinky. I’ve decided I’m going to ask him about it, what it means. And I open my mouth just as Kyle walks to his door. He opens it and waits for me to walk through.
    I sigh. Pick up Gina’s shoes. I’m not going to put them back on. My feet still throb.
    “So where are we?” I ask, ignoring the pounding behind my eyelids.
    His place is nice. Nothing fancy, but it isn’t disastrous. There are a few dishes in the sink. Empty beer bottles on the counter. The living room has a flat screen, a couch, and two recliners. They look worn, but definitely not trashy. There’s a half bath off the living room, and two more doors on the other side. I’m guessing behind them are bedrooms, and I wonder if he has roommates.
    We walk through the living room and he opens the front door. A gust of cold wind blasts my face, making my eyes water. I step out, but he seizes my arm.
    “Hang on.”
    I close the door against the icy early morning air and raise an eyebrow. “Did you forget your keys?” My uncle is forever doing that , especially since he bought a new Titan a few years ago, and he just has to push a button to open the car door.
    Kyle doesn’t answer. Rushes to his bedroom.
    The kitchen has a counter with two stools underneath. So the person in the kitchen can cook and talk to everyone sitting in the living room. My aunt would say the space is functional.
    “Put this on,” Kyle says, coming back. He hands me a thick red sweatshirt.
    My eyes light up. He’s surprised me again. “Thank you, Kyle.” I pull it over my head.
    He steps closer, and gently tugs my hair from the sweatshirt opening. “It’s way too big, but it’ll cover you up, keep you warm.”
    For some reason tears fill my eyes. It shocks me. I’m not much of a crier. I can’t decide whether it’s because I’m glad or sad to find out he’s still so kind—the way I remember him.
    Either way, I can’t resist flinging myself into his chest, wrapping my arms around him. He may not know me, but I know him. I know him so well. And I’ve missed him desperately. So much so that I can’t believe I ever thought I’d be better off without him.
    “Thank you.”
    He doesn’t do anything. Just stands there. Finally I feel his arms encircle me. And it isn’t a courtesy hug. He presses me against him. For a second I think maybe he’s remembered, but he squashes that thought. “You aren’t like regular girls, are you?”
    I shake my head , but don’t release him. Inhale a deep breath and pretend he knows me, and that he’s