Seven Nights of Sin - Lacey Alexander [21]
The more she listened—as they ordered two Long Island iced teas—the more she liked. Blush’s sound struck her as hip, confident, fun, and very sexy.
In fact, certain words in the lyrics began to leap out at her. “Creamy.” “Soft.” “Dirty.” “Night.” Words that might mean little on their own, but somehow the commanding female voice turned them sexual, and Brenna became aware of a dewiness between her thighs that hadn’t been there a few minutes before.
Of course, maybe it was also because the dark room was so crowded, which meant she and Damon were shoved together tight at the bar, their arms touching, their hips, too. He smelled good, a mixture of soap and musk and just a little perspiration.
And though she still heard the music, she somehow quit listening very closely, letting the next slower, sensual-sounding song lull her into a warm, quiet sort of titillation. The alcohol content of the drink quickly contributed to a feeling she could only describe as a…relaxed lust. She wasn’t sure if that even made sense, but she grew strangely at ease with her desires, letting them leak to the surface, no longer trying to push them down.
Still crushed close to her mentor as a large biker type squeezed past, she leaned closer to Damon, absorbing the sheer pleasure when one of her breasts pressed against his arm. At the same time, she slid her free hand up onto his shoulder. To help her balance on her heels. But also sort of just to touch him. So warm, solid.
And as the biker passed, making a little more space, she didn’t move away, didn’t draw her hand back down. Damon felt too good. This was too nice.
He turned to look at her, his eyes only a few inches away and as captivating as ever. His gaze said he knew. What she felt. What she wanted.
That was when she backed away.
It was all suddenly a little too immediate, intimate.
And even as beautiful as he was, as heated as his expression, she couldn’t. For so many reasons. She had to work closely with him right now, had to learn a job. And she was stealing his job, more or less lying to him. And see-through blouse and new confidence aside, deep down she was still old Brenna and, sadly, maybe she just didn’t truly believe she was in Damon Andros’ league.
She blinked and averted her gaze, then took a long sip of her drink. “This is strong,” she said unthinkingly as liquid warmth moved down through her chest.
“Hard to get a Long Island that’s not,” he reminded her with a soft, teasing grin.
Of course it was—she knew that. Why on earth had she ordered something with four or five different kinds of alcohol in it? Because he had, and because it had been easy to just say, “The same.” But she was beginning to regret the choice if it made her this loopy this fast. Of course, she’d had wine at dinner, too.
“Let’s go see the band now,” he suggested, and as she followed—letting him lead the way through the crazy-thick crowd—she found herself wanting to touch him again, wanting to curl her hands over his shoulders, press herself against his sturdy back.
Then she thought, Dear God, since when do you get turned on by a guy’s back? Too much “iced tea,” that was for sure—nervousness had made her sip too much too rapidly. She set the drink aside as they passed a table littered with empty glasses.
Just then, Blush came into view and Damon pulled her by the hand into the masses standing before the stage. She instantly sized up the band with one glimpse: they weren’t gorgeous, or even conventionally pretty, but they were sexy and they knew it. It was in their confidence, and in their music.
The four young women varied in appearance, but all were in their twenties and wore skimpy tops resulting in ample cleavage. The lead singer possessed long blond hair, board straight, with dramatically harsh bangs that matched her