“Oh.” She swallowed on the word.
Qasim quietly celebrated the fact that he’d pretty much rendered her speechless. There was more he wanted to confess, but he could be patient until she was ready to hear it. Despite her open, carefree demeanor, he sensed that she would be very cautious going into her next involvement. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her. She’d had enough of that.
Qasim’s eyes roamed the tempting length of her legs all the way to her exquisite face. He wondered at what was going on behind those lovely features—how was she really reacting to what he had confessed? She seemed entranced by her food, apparently not wanting to delve any further into the topic.
“Eat up.” He smiled. “You’re gonna need your strength.” He heard her quiet moan escape her and his smile deepened.
Chapter 12
Qasim returned Vectra to the gallery the next morning. Their day together had been beyond anything Vectra had ever experienced. She admitted to feeling a little like a virgin—postvirginity. Her cheeks actually burned over memories of things done...and undone.
Her fingers brushed the back of his hand, halting its slow progress beneath her dress when he reached across the gear shift. They would be working on day two of their lovers’ tryst if she let his touch roam any higher.
The possibility of that did nothing to diminish her participation in the kiss they shared. Moaning as though overcome by thirst, Vectra desperately engaged his tongue.
Qasim knew he was playing with fire. It was a habit he was growing quite fond of. Sadly, it was not the right time or place. He wasn’t of a mind to take her on the front seat of his truck, regardless of how much the idea appealed to him.
“Take you inside?”
She smiled, loving the sensation of his velvety soft lips murmuring against hers. She inched back, though, as far as he’d allow, and scanned the street where the gallery was located.
She could see the movers carting in canvases of Yancey Croachman’s work and recognized the cars of her staff along the hilly street.
“It’s all right,” she said. “The place is already jumping.”
“How long will you be here?” Qasim cast a dark look toward the gallery entrance.
“Not long. I only need to get my car and then I’ll probably work from my dad’s place here in the city.” She smoothed a wispy lock behind her ear. “We’re supposed to have lunch together, and I’ll be able to grab a change of clothes there without having to drive back out to the vineyard.”
“Can I see you tonight?”
She melted. “When do you want me to come over?”
Qasim didn’t miss how quickly she’d mentioned driving herself. “I’ll pick you up from your dad’s.”
“Qasim, I really don’t mind—”
“I’ll see you at eight.” He reached out to wind a clipped lock of her hair about his middle finger. He dropped another kiss to her mouth, a sweet one that left her hungry for more, and then he shifted to leave the SUV.
She realized his intention to escort her and grabbed his arm. “Qasim, it’s okay.”
He didn’t argue and knew the muscle he could feel flexing along his jawline was all too noticeable. It was a dead giveaway to how valiantly he worked to tether his agitation over her refusal.
Vectra noticed, however. She leaned across the gear console to smooth the back of her hand across the silken whiskers that shaded his cheek.
“It’s all right. It’s safe.” Intentionally she downplayed what he was really agitated about. “It’s practically a full house in there,” she added.
“Get out of here before I change my mind,” he said, his tone gruff yet playful.
“I’ll see you tonight.” She smiled encouragingly and then left the vehicle under her own steam.
When she was gone, Qasim shrugged a clenched fist to his thigh.
“Easy, Sim.” He sighed.
Vectra saw to a few things at the gallery. Her staff was used to finding her in clothes from the previous day when she put in one of her late-night work sessions, so there was no questioning her attire. She then headed off to her father’s place.
Oscar Bauer had decided to return to his roots and had opted for a three-story loft in SoMa.
Short for South of Market, SoMa was known for its artsy cultural appeal. Vectra believed it was the place that had sparked her love for art and the gallery scene. After his wife’s death, Oscar no longer felt comforted by the quiet captivation of Carro and the memories of his beloved mate.
Vectra had always enjoyed trips to the city to visit her father’s eclectic stomping grounds. Yet when Oscar decided to move back into the area, both Vectra and Oliver had been more than a little concerned. They admitted to being unable to picture their dad living amidst such energy.