Gregg couldn't stop thinking about the spunky blonde with jewel eyes who drove a Harley. He didn't like the way she made him feel. This kind of attraction he used to relish, but he now dreaded it.
Relationships had never been his strong suit. He'd spent a lifetime indulging in short-term liaisons with women that amounted to no more than a few hours of mind-blowing sex. The women he knew could be considered confident, independent, overtly sexual and seductive, both jaded and guarded. They didn't need a man for any more reason than he needed a woman.
Vulnerability, sweetness, lacking-in-confidence, open affection. He didn't understand that. Maybe his intrigue with Stormie Knight came because of his unfamiliarity with the traits she possessed in spades.
Essentially, he'd spent a lifetime doing it all wrong. Now that he'd given his life to Christ and made a commitment to follow Him, he wondered often if he ever really knew the meaning of right. For the past year, his way of handling things was to follow the Lord and assume the opposite of everything he'd ever done must be right. Love and commitment had to be right. Sex and addiction qualified for wrong. He had to be careful about crossing familiar lines like the one inspired by Stormie's presence.
Trouble was, he recognized a part of himself in Stormie Knight. Though they hadn't talked about anything personal, he saw a kindred soul in her. He guessed she'd had more than her share of short-term liaisons, with maybe one or two of the long-term variety. He'd gotten to the point that he could sense both extremes in a woman.
From the start of his relationship with Christie, he'd guessed she had little, if any, experience with men. He could've seen her na‹vet‚ through a dense cloud.
He hadn't exactly lied to Craig about that either. He'd known of Christie's inexperience, but most inexperienced women didn't come off as aggressive. She'd cornered him at every turn like a she-wolf in heat toward the end of their relationship. Craig would never believe it, of course. He would always believe that Gregg was a womanizer to the nth degree.
Stormie had experience. Very little would surprise her. She knew exactly how to study him under the veil of her long eyelashes without expressing anything bawdy in her approval of what she saw. No, the lady had inborn and experienced sensuality. Even the way she rode that Harley, the way she handled it. Yeah, she'd been around. Yet she'd maintained her openness and a form of innocence.
Ahh, need to stop thinking about her. Being here, where I can still smell the strangely arousing grease she wore like perfume. Not going to help me out of my reverie here. |
