Riding the Storm - Brenda Jackson [68]
Eight “W hich way to your bedroom?” “Straight ahead and to your right.” Storm didn’t waste any time taking her there and immediately placed her naked body in the middle of the bed. He took a step back to look at her. For a moment, he couldn’t move, too overwhelmed by her beauty to do anything but to take it all in…and breathe. He ached to make love to her, and sink his body into the wet warmth of hers. Love her. Air suddenly left his lungs in a whoosh and he summoned all the strength he could not to fall flat on his face. The thought that he wanted to love her had been unintentional, absolutely ridiculous, outlandish and totally absurd. He only did non-demanding relationships and short-term affairs. He wasn’t into strings, especially the attached kind. He suddenly felt a tightening in his chest at the same time that he felt a bizarre quickening around his heart. Hell! Something was wrong with him. Then, on second thought, maybe nothing was wrong with him. He was merely imagining things
Nine “T hanks again for the plant, Storm. It’s simply beautiful.” “You’re welcome and I’m glad you like it.” “And thanks for bringing me here, tonight. Everything was wonderful.” “You’re welcome again.” Then she glanced around Anthony’s, the stunning and elegant antebellum mansion that had a reputation of fine service and delicious food. Being here reminded her of New Orleans, and she wondered if perhaps that was the reason Storm had chosen this place. She glanced back over at Storm and their gazes met. He’d been watching her, something she noticed he’d been doing all evening. He had arrived at her house promptly at seven and since she’d been ready, she had only invited him inside long enough for her to grab her purse and a wrap. At least, that’s what she had assumed. The moment he had stepped inside her home, he had pulled her into his arms and kissed her, making her realize that although she wished otherwise, there was definitely something going on between them, something that had no
Ten A nchoring himself above Jayla on his elbows, Storm looked down at her and smiled. Dang, she always looked beautiful after experiencing an orgasm. What more could a man ask for than to be right there to experience each one with her. He sighed deeply. Now that he knew he loved her, he had to figure out a way to get her to fall in love with him as well. First, he would have to gain her complete trust, and then he had to make sure she clearly understood that he was her Mr. Right and wanted a long-term relationship with her, one that ended in marriage. A smile curved his lips. Yeah, that’s what he wanted, Jayla as his wife. “Why are you smiling?” He met her gaze. Her eyelids were heavy and her cheeks had a sated flush. Leaning down, he brushed a kiss across her lips. “After what we’ve just shared, how can you ask me that?” As usual, everything had been perfect. The way their bodies had come together while a trail of fire had blazed between them. It was a fire he hadn’t wanted to put ou
Eleven E veryone who was somebody in Atlanta had turned out for the Kids’ World charity benefit. There were politicians, CEOs of major corporations, celebrities and well-known sports figures, all of whom considered Atlanta home. There was also a sheikh in attendance, the very handsome Prince Jamal Ari Yasir, who was dressed in his native Middle Eastern attire and causing quite a stir among the ladies, single or otherwise. Jayla smiled, knowing the stir was a waste of time and effort since it was well known that Prince Yasir was happily married to the former Delaney Westmoreland, Storm’s sister. Jayla glanced across the room at the group of men standing together laughing and talking. Although Storm hadn’t arrived yet, it didn’t take much to recognize the men as Westmorelands. Their kinship was clearly evident in their facial features, their height as well as their sex appeal. She began wondering if perhaps Storm had changed his mind about coming. After leaving the clinic yesterday,