Teaching Mr. Graham

    It was impossible not to completely melt at the sound of Aubrey's words and the underlying affection accompanying them. Tatiana prided herself on possessing the natural ability to provide a witty or proper response for just about any given situation, but how did you respond to a man pouring out his heart to you?

    Instead of using words at all, she lunged forward and threw her arms around him, happy tears springing to her eyes.

    "Hey now," he murmured, returning the embrace. "I hope you don't think I'm letting you off the hook." He pulled back and held up her notebook. "Your turn."

    "It's nowhere near as good as yours," she fretted, her voice shaking with nervousness.

    "Stop comparing." His voice was firm and reprimanding, the most authoritative tone he'd taken with her since they'd met.

    She quietly wrapped her arms around herself and sat back farther on the couch, hating how vulnerable she felt knowing that not only was the man holding her writing in his hands a man that she genuinely cared about - it was Drake, a world-renowned artist in his own right. No matter how well she was getting to know him, that factor didn't detract from the fact that a Grammy award-winning, multiple platinum-selling artist was whispering the words she'd written aloud to himself.

    He stroked his bottom lip with the side of an index finger while reading. A few times, his eyes rose and peered over the top of the notebook. He'd stare at her for several moments without speaking, then return to reading while continuing to stroke that damned sexy bottom lip.

    "I find it humorous that you won't let me off the hook for anything, yet think that I'll give you a pass."

    He arched an eyebrow at her. "Excuse me?"

    "You should have to read out loud," she told him. Her boldness was, in part born from the need to shed the vulnerability that was plaguing her. That wasn't the only reason, though. The romantic inside of her just wanted to hear him speak her words.

    The smile he flashed her managed to be both charming and disarming. He raised a closed fist to his mouth and dramatically cleared his throat.

"Knowing that I'm sheltered, you may think I'm naive,

An immature little thing who wears her heart on her sleeve,

Lacking in experience, but with a sensuality you wouldn't believe...

Heard you've had your heart broken...let me grant you a reprieve

From the no-good women who've hurt you and failed relationships you grieve.

Because understand that despite my naivete, I'm ride or die and wouldn't leave.

As you said, the world is ours and we have way too much to achieve."

    When Aubrey was finished reading, he drew an arm across his brow as if he'd just finished running a marathon. "Damn, girl. Got me sweatin'."

    She reached for her notebook. "You're just being nice."

    "You don't know me as well as you think you do," he said, his voice even deeper than usual. He allowed the statement to hang in the air for a moment before adding, "I have too much respect for art and artists to blow smoke up anyone's ass. And I care about you, specifically, entirely too much to gas you up without merit."

    Her cheeks burned at the earnest commendation.

    "By the way, what happened to the birds?"

    She laughed. "The birds?"