Pleasure Me Read Free

moments for the rest of my life.” Shortly after he’d left for his service, she’d pulled her disappearing act. “Did you leave because of me?”
    “Do you really need to ask?” She pressed the heels of her hands against the lip of the table. “What choice did I have? You were gone. No one would tell me what your plans were after your tour would be over. Whether you’d even be coming back. Your father and mother said I should forget you, rather than bothering them like I’d bugged you. You acted as though I had Ebola every time I was around. What was I supposed to think?”
    “You didn’t have to run away.”
    “Was I supposed to stay here and hope you’d come back? Wait until I heard about you mating with a human you liked better than anyone in this town and making a life with that woman in another city, state, or country? I overheard you bitching to your friends about being a shifter. What a downer living here was. How it would bore someone who was already brain dead. You wanted to be in the big wide world around humans. You made life with them sound so exciting I thought I’d try it, too. And I did.”
    He’d talked crap to his friends so they wouldn’t guess he was leaving because of her. He should have been straight with her back then, noticed the turmoil she’d been in. “Are you all right now?”
    She snatched back her hand before he could touch her again. “Fine.”
    He glanced at the left side of her face, part of it still hidden by her hair.
    Her cheeks and throat flushed red. “Don’t worry about me. My modeling career was over at twenty-four. I knew I was too old when my agent and the photographers started giving me the names of plastic surgeons for Botox, mini-facelifts, and the other crap to keep me looking like a tween rather than an adult. I refused to go the established route and couldn’t get a gig to save my life. Wasn’t much of an actress, either, according to the suits in Hollywood. There’s no need to worry over my looks. I never did care about them. They were simply a means to make a living, okay?”
    “Are you all right?”
    Her lower lip trembled. “Never been better.”
    Fuck, she was about to cry. “Let me help.” He scooted his chair closer. “What do you need? Tell me what you want.”
    She pushed back then stood. “Peace. That’s all.”
    She fled the bar.
     
    Starr was halfway across the street when another surge of sorrow and longing hit with such force, she bent at the waist to ward off her pain. The damn feelings came anyway, tightening her throat, making her want.
    Shit. Shit. Shit.
    He’d looked better than she’d dreamed, hotter than any man had a freaking right to be, and he was nice, too, actually wanting to talk. Maybe become friends. Screw around. Fall in love. No, wait. She’d be falling more deeply in love.
    Was he deliberately trying to drive her insane?
    The bar door creaked. Music and voices spilled out.
    She bolted down the road, not wanting to be around him again. Her battered heart couldn’t take any more.
    Loud male laughter rang out. His? Directed at how she’d run? No. Had to be someone else. She slowed and looked over.
    The kissing fools from inside were outside now, both just barely of legal age to hang out at a bar. The young woman sprawled face up on the hood of a black pickup, the guy laughing again as he pushed up her tee. Snuggled between her legs, he kissed her naked belly.
    Nitwits. Didn’t they know where desire led? To hell and back with no detours into everlasting happiness.
    She sprinted away again, determined to erase Wylder from her thoughts.
    Images of him bombarded her, running through her mind like a tune she couldn’t forget. He wore his hair long these days, the wavy brown locks grazing his shoulders, framing his rough, masculine features. Drool-worthy stubble graced his chin, cheeks, and upper lip, his bronze complexion darker from the summer sun. He’d packed on muscle during the last years, his shoulders broad,