BWWM Romance: Crossing The Line: Interracial Romance / Wealthy Love Interest Read Online Free
Author: Aisha M. Taylor
my god, I gotta go," Shawna said. "I have to pee!" She laughed her way to the bathroom, keeping her thighs pressed together until she could relieve her bladder.
She decided to skip the bidding part of the auction. The hotel had a beautiful stone balcony and she took a complimentary bottle of water with her outside. The brightest stars dotted the clear, black night sky as the city lights below threw a foggy glow. Shawna leaned against the banister and breathed in the fresh, cool air. Seeing Franklin walk down the auction catwalk was just what she needed to get back to normal and admit how ridiculous everything had been lately. Stress had made her feel like a raging lunatic.
"Aren't you cold?" A deep, unaccented voice said. Shawna turned and saw her goth admirer. He joined her at the railing, towering over her. She smiled slightly and, without meaning to, shivered. Slipping out of his leather jacket, he offered to drape it over Shawna's shoulders. She hesitated. The air didn't really bother her, but it was such a gentlemanly gesture. His woody cologne wafted over her and she felt instantly connected. The right scent could do that to her. She took a deep breath and allowed him to drape the jacket over her shoulders.
"Thank you. Aren't you on the menu . . . up there?"
"Nah. Didn't drum up enough interest. That firefighter, though. Woo."
Shawna laughed and looked down. He stood close to her. Typically, she kept a three-foot personal bubble, but somehow, with this guy, she didn’t mind the nearness. Keeping one hand on the banister, he leaned over her and ran his hand over her dangling silver earring. "Pretty."
"Thanks."
"My name is Virgil."
"I'm --"
"Shawna . . . Yeah, I know. I've been keeping up on you."
"Oh?"
"Not in like a stalker way," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and backing up a little. "I just . . . well…you're gorgeous and I've been building up the courage to come say hi."
"Thank you. It's nice to meet you, Virgil."
"Do you like Italian?"
"Uhhh…"
"Or . . . movies? Art? I'm floundering."
"I'm sorry, I'm just processing that you're asking me out on a date."
Virgil took a deep breath. Color rushed to his cheeks and he lowered his eyes. "I probably should've asked if you're seeing someone―"
"I'm not. It's just . . . surprising."
"Because I'm white?"
"No . . . yes . . . A little."
Shawna wasn't against dating outside her race, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Black men were always the ones who approached her. She wasn't any good at approaching guys herself. There were days when she cursed her passivity, because who knows what kind of opportunities she missed. She had friends who dated outside their race and a lot of them were happy with their partners. This man came at her totally from left field, however, not just because of his race, but stylistically. She was sure that the grunge and goth fashion movement had ended sometime in the mid-2000s, but it suited him. He seemed more comfortable in the kilt and heavy boots than he did in the tuxedo she last saw him in. His innate intimacy made her curious as to what else he had to offer. He invaded her personal space while still respecting her reactions to him. It was hard to know what to make of him. And the way he devoured her form with his eyes told Shawna that there was a lot of sensuality to be had.
"I love Italian food, and movies . . . and art," she said, recovering.
"We'll do all of that and more," he whispered, taking Shawna's hands into his own. She brought her knees together, feeling tingly and wet down below. They’d met only minutes ago, but it felt like more―or not more exactly, it just felt easy. Shawna programmed her information into Virgil's phone and he did the same.
"Shawna!" Mikki called and the two of them jumped. Mikki marched out onto the balcony as Virgil and Shawna exchanged phones again.
"Mikki, this is―"
"It's nice to meet you," Mikki said curtly before dragging Shawna off by her
She decided to skip the bidding part of the auction. The hotel had a beautiful stone balcony and she took a complimentary bottle of water with her outside. The brightest stars dotted the clear, black night sky as the city lights below threw a foggy glow. Shawna leaned against the banister and breathed in the fresh, cool air. Seeing Franklin walk down the auction catwalk was just what she needed to get back to normal and admit how ridiculous everything had been lately. Stress had made her feel like a raging lunatic.
"Aren't you cold?" A deep, unaccented voice said. Shawna turned and saw her goth admirer. He joined her at the railing, towering over her. She smiled slightly and, without meaning to, shivered. Slipping out of his leather jacket, he offered to drape it over Shawna's shoulders. She hesitated. The air didn't really bother her, but it was such a gentlemanly gesture. His woody cologne wafted over her and she felt instantly connected. The right scent could do that to her. She took a deep breath and allowed him to drape the jacket over her shoulders.
"Thank you. Aren't you on the menu . . . up there?"
"Nah. Didn't drum up enough interest. That firefighter, though. Woo."
Shawna laughed and looked down. He stood close to her. Typically, she kept a three-foot personal bubble, but somehow, with this guy, she didn’t mind the nearness. Keeping one hand on the banister, he leaned over her and ran his hand over her dangling silver earring. "Pretty."
"Thanks."
"My name is Virgil."
"I'm --"
"Shawna . . . Yeah, I know. I've been keeping up on you."
"Oh?"
"Not in like a stalker way," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and backing up a little. "I just . . . well…you're gorgeous and I've been building up the courage to come say hi."
"Thank you. It's nice to meet you, Virgil."
"Do you like Italian?"
"Uhhh…"
"Or . . . movies? Art? I'm floundering."
"I'm sorry, I'm just processing that you're asking me out on a date."
Virgil took a deep breath. Color rushed to his cheeks and he lowered his eyes. "I probably should've asked if you're seeing someone―"
"I'm not. It's just . . . surprising."
"Because I'm white?"
"No . . . yes . . . A little."
Shawna wasn't against dating outside her race, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Black men were always the ones who approached her. She wasn't any good at approaching guys herself. There were days when she cursed her passivity, because who knows what kind of opportunities she missed. She had friends who dated outside their race and a lot of them were happy with their partners. This man came at her totally from left field, however, not just because of his race, but stylistically. She was sure that the grunge and goth fashion movement had ended sometime in the mid-2000s, but it suited him. He seemed more comfortable in the kilt and heavy boots than he did in the tuxedo she last saw him in. His innate intimacy made her curious as to what else he had to offer. He invaded her personal space while still respecting her reactions to him. It was hard to know what to make of him. And the way he devoured her form with his eyes told Shawna that there was a lot of sensuality to be had.
"I love Italian food, and movies . . . and art," she said, recovering.
"We'll do all of that and more," he whispered, taking Shawna's hands into his own. She brought her knees together, feeling tingly and wet down below. They’d met only minutes ago, but it felt like more―or not more exactly, it just felt easy. Shawna programmed her information into Virgil's phone and he did the same.
"Shawna!" Mikki called and the two of them jumped. Mikki marched out onto the balcony as Virgil and Shawna exchanged phones again.
"Mikki, this is―"
"It's nice to meet you," Mikki said curtly before dragging Shawna off by her
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