Page 21 of One Hotlanta Night
Her brow furrows, then she releases a breath. “Yeah,” she says, a small smile pulling at her lips. “I think I am.” I draw Vivian closer still as the music changes to a sultry bachata. Hints of jasmine mix with the sweetness of her sweat and make me want to drink her in even more. Small tendrils of hair escape her loose bun, and I envision what that might look like in the morning on my pillow.Too soon, I tell myself, but I can’t help where my mind wanders.
A bead of sweat trails its way down her chest, slowly heading down, down, between her breasts. My finger’s out to trace it before I realize what I’m doing, and I capture it before it can fall all the way under her shirt. Bringing it to my lips, I suck andclose my eyes. Her sweat is delicious and her resulting gasp is just as intoxicating. I can’t wait to hear that in our bed.
I drag my hands lower, my thumbs brushing her hip bones as my fingers cradle her ass. My hold is tight enough to rock our bodies to the sensuous beat, but light enough that she can push away anytime she wants. She can’t have mistaken my touch, but I keep reminding myself that just because I’m drunk on the sight and smell of her doesn’t mean she feels it too. I hate that idea but respect her enough to give her space. But she’s not pulling away, not even a millimeter, and I subtly breathe her in, soaking up the paradise I’ve found with her in my arms.
We settle into a comfortable rhythm, our movements sure and harmonious, two souls aligned on the dance floor. An overwhelming sense of peace consumes me, even while my heart beats so rapidly I am sure she can feel it through my shirt. I couldn’t rip my gaze away from her if I wanted to, and I hope she feels even a fraction of what I do.
Like we fit together.
Like we are made for each other.
Vivian
The notes of the music have taken on a deeper, more sensual beat. I may not understand Spanish, but my body recognizes erotic rhythms in any language. Glancing up at Michael, I wonder how he’ll react if I take this further. If I allow myself to let go, show himexactlyhow well I can move.
Before I have a chance to, he closes what little space remains between us. His hands trail down to grip my hips firmly as his chest meets mine, my breasts grazing his pecs.Hot damn. The heat level just ratched up a thousand notches, most notably between my legs.
I draw in a sharp breath and his eyes, which have been focused on where our bodies touch, fly to mine. With a lifted eyebrow, his molten eyes search mine as his hand cups my face, checking to make sure this is okay. I nod, a little dazed as he bends down. “Good,” he whispers in my ear. His breath trails over me, and I can’t stop the ripple of desire that runs through me. Taking myhands, he drapes them behind his neck, pressing us together as one.
Encouraged by the closeness, my fingers lightly wander the nape of his neck. Goosebumps erupt on his skin and a small smile comes over my face as I realize he’s just as affected as I am. Closing my eyes, I lose myself in his embrace, swaying back and forth. I feel better than I ever have before, comfort and excitement blending together in his arms. His crisp citrus scent delights my senses as I shift closer to inhale deeply. I need to find out what cologne he uses because I want to spray it all over my bed sheets.
I’m really liking this, I think as one of his hands splays against my lower back and melds us together. “I’m really likingyou,” Michael whispers against the shell of my ear and drops the softest of kisses behind it. My entire body ignites at the touch of his lips as I realize I said those words out loud.Whoa, girl, you’re off your game. Get it together.
But my heart doesn’t care; it’s too caught up in the seductive beats and the throb of my hips grinding against his. Our movements match perfectly, each gyration teasing my skin. All hesitation gone, I give in the music, the heat, and all ofhim. When a particularly seductive melody hits, he slides his knee in between my legs. I’m practically riding his thigh, the black of my pants blending with the dark denim of his jeans.
I should object, I reallyshould, but his touch is velvet and addictive and it all feels too good.
Our bodies are joined as one, hands, torsos, legs, like we should be taking this to the bedroom. The sensual pop of his hip on every fourth beat grinds into my pelvis, hitting just where I need him and I want, I need, Icravemore. Michael drags me up his leg, one hand supporting my back, the other gently but firmly tilting me in a low dip, and I trust that he has me. I allow myself to believe I’m secure, and he’s not going to let me fall. As I comeback up, those gorgeous eyes have become impossibly darker, and is it my imagination or is he breathing harder too? My heart matches his pace as we grind together, his strong arms holding me firmly.
I would let this man do just about anything to my body right now.
The male vocals on the song are low and gravelly. I have no idea what the lyrics mean, but it sounds dirty and full of promise. Is it normal to want to lose my clothes right here? Never have I felt this level of potent desire while in a dance club, even when Sisqo or Ginuwine is playing. I’d check to see if anyone else is lust-drunk, but I’m too busy feeling Michael roll his hips against mine to look around. His dark eyes burn not just with hunger but a deeper level of passion.
Like he’s yearning for my soul.
I can’t break free from the intensity of his gaze. My chest begins to tighten.
There’s losing yourself in the moment, and then there’s losing control entirely.
Which one am I doing?
My breathing becomes shallow, and my pulse races faster before it all gets to be too much and I force myself to look away.
“Want to get a drink?” Michael pulls back, giving me some space, his eyes carefully examining me. Can he read my mind? “C’mon.” His smile is warm, comforting. No irritation. Breaking our sensual grip, I immediately miss his heat as my skin chills. But he’s still here, placing his hand at the small of my back and gently guiding me to the bar, his touch grounding me.
“What’s your poison, my lady?” he asks, his hand slides to my waist and tucks me close to his side as we join the group of people waiting to be served. Unlike when Matt tried this, Michael’s touch feels protective, and I don’t want to admit how good it feels. Or how much it’s freaking me out. I try to hide myragged breaths and direct my attention on the alcohol selection instead.
“Tequila,” I say, glancing back at him.
“Spicy,” he grins, “I like it.” His eyes dance with the reflective firelight of the tiki torches that rain golden on the smooth bar surface. “Silver or gold?”
“What do you think?” I quirk a brow at him.
He takes a minute. I’m glad he’s giving it some thought. It seems trivial, but situations like this show how a guy will treat you. Taking initiative is hot, but only if they take your wishes into account first. When silly little Matt with his silly little khakis just assumed that I would drink whatever he chose for me, it made me wonder if he thought all girls would just fall into line with whatever he wanted. No thank you.
Michael murmurs something low as he scrapes his hand along his jaw. It sounds a lot like the sensual Spanish from the song before. His eyes rake over me, and I squirm in spite of myself.
“You look like a woman who prefers gold.” he says, still stroking that sinfully sexy chin and I wish that hand was stroking my body instead. His eyes caress me, taking in all of my face but not straying below my neck. Like he’s appraising priceless art. A flush starts to creep across my chest. ”Yes,” he declares. “Solid gold.”
