Riding the Storm - Brenda Jackson [17]
His hands were around her waist, holding her tight, and her arms were draped about his neck. The music playing was slow and their bodies were barely moving. He knew it and she knew it, as well. He was also certain that she was aware that he was aroused. With her body so close to his, there was no way that she didn’t know it.
He wanted her to feel all of him and pulled her closer into his arms. Automatically, she placed her head against his chest and he closed his eyes as they swayed to the sound of the music. If she thought he smelled good, then he thought likewise about her. The scent of her perfume was intoxicating, seductive and a total turn-on. Moments later, the music faded and they stopped dancing, but he refused to release her. He needed to continue to hold her in his arms.
Jayla lifted her face and met Storm’s gaze. The look in his eyes was intense and purely sexual. “I should try and continue to fight this,” he said as if the words were being forced from him. She could clearly understand what he meant.
She did. “Don’t fight it,” she said softly.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re not helping matters, Jayla.” His words were a low growl in her ear.
She narrowed her eyes right back at him. “Why should I?”
He stared at her for a long time. Then he glanced around. It seemed they were the center of attention. He looked back at her. “But you deserve more than just—”
“A one-night stand? Shouldn’t I be the one to make that decision, Storm? I’m twenty-six-years old. I work and pay my own bills. I’m a woman, not a child, and it’s time you realized that.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then said, “I just did.” He tightened his hand on hers and tugged her along with him out of the club.
“Where are we going?” Jayla asked, almost out of breath as she tried keeping up with Storm’s long strides as he tried hailing a cab.
“Back to the hotel.”
A few moments later, Storm cursed. There were few cabs around and the ones he saw were already occupied. He glanced across the street and saw a parked horse-drawn coach. Evidently, someone had used it for a wedding and it reminded him of the coach that might be used as a prop in Cinderella. “Come on,” he said, keeping a firm hold on Jayla’s hand.
They quickly crossed the street and approached the driver, who was holding the reins to keep the horses from prancing. “We need a ride back to the Sheraton Hotel on Canal,” Storm said, nearly out of breath.
The old man raised a bushy brow. “My rates are by the hour.”
“Fine, just get us there quick and in one piece.”
The driver nodded his head, indicating that he understood. Storm then turned and opened the carriage door. When Jayla lifted her leg to climb inside, Storm swept her into his arms and placed her inside on the seat. He then climbed in and shut the door.
As the coach lurched forward, anticipation and sexual desire the likes he had never known before gripped him and he could think of only one thing that could relax him.
He paused, wondering if he had lost his mind and then quickly decided that he had. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He would worry about the consequences of his actions tomorrow. He was too far gone tonight.
He glanced over at Jayla where she sat on the other side of the seat. The interior lighting provided him with barely enough illumination to see her features, but he heard her breathing and it was coming out as erratic as his own.
“Come here, Jayla.”
She met his gaze before sliding across the seat to him. He curved his hand about her neck and drew her to him. Leaning forward, he captured the lips he had been dying to taste for over ten years. He took possession and staked his claim. He couldn’t help himself.
He felt the shiver that flowed from her body to his when she surrendered her tongue to his. He took his time to savor what she offered, relentlessly mating his mouth with hers as he tried to satisfy what seemed to be an endless hunger. Her taste was like a drug and he felt himself getting addicted to it as his