Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

As I tried to formulate my response, the words slowly percolating through my heart and mind to the tip of my tongue, I let my gaze stay on his face. Abraham Krasner. I’d spent more time looking at him than my own reflection. He’d made an indelible mark on my soul, in the shape of his hand on mine, his eyes, his lips. I missed him when he was gone, even in these past years when the ache had become so routine it was nothing more than background noise. He was like a phantom limb. A phantom soul mate.

I took his hand and flipped it over between mine, my thumbs tracing the life and heart lines engraved across his palm. “I am afraid that loving you is like riding a bike. That if I let myself remember how to do it, I’ll fall so hard and fast that I’ll never be able to recover.”

He kissed me hard and swift, like a branding. “I don’t want you to be able to recover.”

I pulled slightly away, though our breath still mingled in the night air. “That’s greedy, Abraham Krasner.”

He smiled. “I’m only greedy because I want all of you, forever.”

“I’m afraid you won’t mean that in two weeks. A month. A year.”

He smiled and caressed my cheek, and the emotion in his eyes was so strong that it astounded me. “Tamar—I will. Trust me. I will.”

He spoke with such certainty. I swallowed. “Okay. But Abe—we have to take this at my speed. I can’t just throw myself into this, madly, completely.”

He grinned with cocky confidence. “You’re already into this madly, completely. I’m the only one for you.”

I gently pushed his chest. “I’m the one in charge. I dictate how far, how fast. You follow my lead.”

He leaned back slowly onto his elbows and looked up at me, his face filled with lazy pleasure. “I’m more than happy to follow your lead.”

A frisson of excited attraction sizzled through me. I edged a little closer and placed one hand on his shoulder and trailed it down to land just below his sleeve. My fingers wrapped hesitantly around his biceps, which felt like warm steel beneath my hand. “Is that so?”

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “It’s so.”

I licked my lips, more than a little nervous. “Okay, then. Okay.” I found some focus. “Then just so you know, I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.”

He looked skeptically amused. “No?”

I shook my head. “I’m not. Okay?”

“Okay.” He let my legs slide down as he kissed his way down my neck, over the hollow part of my collarbone. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” I tried to push him back. Damn, this was hard.

“Okay,” he said, actually using his mouth to talk, for once. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

I eyed him narrowly. “Because I’m not going to.”

“Okay.” He took my face in his hands. One kiss. Gentle. “That’s okay.” And then he smiled. “But I’m allowed to try to change your mind, right?”

I narrowed my eyes warily. “I don’t know. How are you going to try?”

He answered with a kiss, and I melted into his arms.

He didn’t change my mind that night.

But he made an awfully persuasive argument.

In the morning he woke up early and shrugged on his shirt. He was leaving soon for Boston and still had to stop by his apartment, whereas I planned to stay in bed all day. His eyes darkened as he watched me watch him get dressed from between the sheets. “We’re still on for the wedding, right?”

The what? My mouth fell open.

He looked amused. “You didn’t forget?”

I kept staring.

“We’re getting married.”