"Teaching? A little over a year. But I've been dancing for more than five."
"Interesting hobby." He had to at least try to control his hormones, but this new information had sent his sex drive spiraling out of control. He cleared his throat and took another mouthful of beer. She smiled at him, obviously knowing the inner turmoil he was undergoing because of her. You’re such an idiot, he reprimanded himself. Pull it together.
"It really is. And someday, I hope to open my own studio. But I need mucho bucks for that. But burlesque is great and I’d recommend it for anyone. It helps me stay in shape, and it's great for the self-confidence. Especially for someone like me. I don't have a trim or tiny figure-"
He took in her lush curves appreciatively, and stopped her. "There is nothing wrong with your figure."
She smiled, puckering her lips a little. "Oh, I know that. Now, that is. But I wasn't always as comfortable with my body. I was always a little bigger, rounder than the girls on TV or in magazines, and I found that burlesque kind of celebrates a more luscious figure. Since I've started dancing, it has really helped me come out of my shell, helped me feel sexy, give me more confidence."
Peter was skeptical. He didn’t believe that Erica would need any help being sexy. "Burlesque, so that's like stripping?" he asked her casually. But he regretted the question the second that her green eyes turned cold on him.
"No." She told him, flatly. "It’s not like stripping. Although, I would never judge a woman for dancing in a club, or for anything else she did with her own body, but burlesque is performance art. It doesn't serve the express purpose of giving a guy a hard-on."
"I'm sorry," he raised his hands in surrender. "I misspoke." Although he could certainly attest to Erica’s ability to leave a guy throbbing.
"It's okay. Sometimes I'm just kind of sensitive about it. I didn't want to give you impression that it's something it isn't."
She drained her glass and put it down on the bar. “So you know about me, Peter, but what about you? What do you do?”
“I do a lot of odd jobs,” he lied easily; it came with the territory. “But right now, I’m in security.” Technically, not a lie.
“Interesting,” she narrowed her eyes. “Security, eh?” she gave him an obvious once-over. “Although you don’t look like a security guy.”
He laughed. “What’s a security guy supposed to look like?” She was obviously referencing his shaggy hair and the beginnings of a beard. He’d been meaning to shave for a few days now. But every time he was hip-deep in a case some things, like shaving and haircuts, just seemed to get forgotten. His worn clothes and scuffed boots also detracted from his cop-ness, but he considered comfort to be more important in their line of work, and for undercover assignments, the less he looked like a cop, blended in, the better. “But I do hear that quite a bit actually, especially from my boss.”
Juliana and Azura came up behind them. Juliana put her hand on Erica’s shoulder, and they both turned to face her friends.
"Erica, we're ready to go,” Juliana told her. “We just wanted to see if you were coming with us."
“Already?”
“Yeah, it’s after midnight, and we both have places to be tomorrow morning,” Azura told them.
“It’s after midnight?”
“Afraid so,” Juliana confirmed. “Don’t forget that you’re opening tomorrow.”
“I won’t, mom. But what about your new friends over there?” Erica asked, nodding over to the table where the guys were gathering their coats and standing.
“They’ve offered to get us home safely.”
Peter knew that it was time to leave, but he watched Erica. The play was hers. If she wanted to leave, it was her call. He held his breath.
"Uh-" she opened her mouth to speak, and her eyes darted back and forth between her friends and him. But when her gaze settled, her green eyes looking into him, he spoke up.
"I don’t turn into a pumpkin after midnight,” he offered. “So I'll get this princess home if she’s not ready to leave yet." What are you doing? He was already in too deep with her, and if he was smart, he should have been calling it a night, sending her off with her friends, not finding reasons to spend more time drinking at the bar with her.
Erica's eyes widened in surprise, and she smiled. Her friends; however, seemed a little less-than-pleased with his interjection. To her friends’ curious glances, she nodded. Communicating in silence, confirming that it was fine. She turned to back to him. "Yeah, that sounds great." Then to her friends, she nodded again. "I'll get a ride with Peter."
With a smug smile on her face, Azura leaned in and kissed Erica on the cheek and whispered loudly enough that Peter could still hear, "I'm sure you will. Text me later so I know you aren’t dead," she winked.
“I will.”
Peter frowned at her friend's assumption that they would end up in bed together. Were his intentions suddenly that obvious? Peter had always prided himself on his ability to stay level-headed in any situations, to remain stoic, and not show any emotion. So how had a complete stranger been able to get inside his head enough to make him jeopardize an intelligence-gathering operation?
Peter let the women talk, as he considered his options for the evening. The insistent bulge behind his zipper could attest to where he wanted the evening to go. But his brain was telling him otherwise. It would be wildly unprofessional to take Erica to bed, and the wire that he wore would attest to that. He was on the job, for fuck’s sake. But before he could dwell on it any longer, Erica’s friends left, and Erica ordered another round of drinks. He suddenly couldn’t have cared less about the professional ramifications of being with her.
He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was a text from Mitch.
Use your head… The right one. And don’t disconnect that wire.
Peter looked up and saw Erica watching him.
“It’s Mitch,” he explained, with a smile. “He also wants me to text him later... So he knows I’m not dead.”
She laughed. “You make light, but it’s hard out there for women.”
“I get that,” he nodded. “There are a lot of sketchy individuals out there.”
“Yeah, it’s like a girl can’t even meet a stranger in a bar without thinking that he’s going to put drugs in her drink. And speaking of…” She raised her hand to call the bartender over, and when he did, she handed him her beer bottle. “You mind holding on to this for me?” She turned to Peter. “I’ve got to go to the little girl’s room. Be right back.”
Peter watched her saunter away from the bar, her hips swaying under the black satin of her dress. He ground his teeth together, and no longer cared about the job. Why couldn’t he just forget about being a cop for twelve hours? Despite every reason he had not to, he knew what he was going to do, and he pulled out his phone and sent a text message.
Going dark. I’ll check in in the morning.
Mitch’s response was immediate. Goddammit. You’re making a mistake!
Before Peter was able to power down his cell phone and put it back in his pocket, it began to vibrate in his hand. It was Mitch, most likely calling to tell him what an idiot he was being. Peter ignored it and put it away. Despite his brother’s warnings, he was going to make this mistake.
A beautiful mistake.
Erica watched her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Looking good girl,” she told herself. She turned in the mirror, and checked out her profile. “Everything where it should be,” she muttered. “Except for…” she turned back and leaned forward slightly, and with a hand down the low neckline of her dress, she scooped each of her breasts up and adjusted them in her bra, attaining maximum cleavage. She smirked and reapplied her lipstick, and she checked her breath. Not bad. She fluffed her hair once again and she was ready.
Erica walked out of the restroom, and stood at the doorway for a minute, watching Peter at the bar. He was shoving the phone in his pocket. Taking a deep breath,
she smoothed her palms down her front. She sat down next to him and scooted her barstool closer to his.
She shifted in her seat, and she felt the denim of his jeans brush her skirt. The electricity was still there. She dropped her hand to her thigh and she pulled her skirt ever so slightly up, dragging the material upward with her fingertips. She looked up and saw that the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Peter. He watched as more and more of her leg became exposed.
His eyes rose and met hers, and suddenly the rest of the club fell away, and all she could hear was the rush of blood and her pounding heart in her ears. She had known she wanted him, and if the dark look in his eyes was any indication, he wanted her too.
She smiled at him. She leaned closer, so close that her breasts pressed lightly into the strong muscles of his chest and she placed her hand high on his thigh. With the thrill of triumph, she felt his hard muscles tense through the rough denim.
He towered over her. She could smell him, the spicy scent of his cologne and the leather of his jacket invaded her senses. She raised her head and stopped when her parted lips were just scant millimeters from his earlobe.
"Why don't we get out of here?" she asked him in a breathy voice, her lips skimming his ear.
She felt him shudder under her light touch, and it was triumphant. Making such a powerful man shudder made her feel invincible. He closed his eyes. "Uh, yeah," he began to stammer, and he cleared his throat, and took some of his drink. "If you're ready to go home, I can call you a cab."
She pulled back slightly and looked him in the eyes. "No, Peter. I don't want to go home." She looked down, to the large bulge in his lap and she smiled with satisfaction.
"Where would you like to go?" he asked her, his voice thick.
Good question. She didn’t want to bring him to her place. Azura was there, and they had a strict no one-night-stands rule in their apartment. Nor, did she want to go to his place. He was still a stranger and she didn’t want to be vulnerable in a stranger’s apartment. There was only one option for them.
“Want to get a hotel room?" She asked him, her fingernails gliding over his denim-clad thigh, travelling higher, and higher. “There’s a nice place a couple of doors down.”
Peter nodded. He said nothing and stared straight ahead. But she gained his full attention when her fingernails scraped the fly of his jeans to the thick erection behind it. He gasped at her touch, pulling air between his teeth. "I think that's a great idea."
Chapter 4
Erica entered the room first, with Peter following closely behind her. The elevator ride had been mostly silent and after the doors pulled apart, he let her get off first, hopefully a sign of things to come, and they’d walked down the hallway to the room. She looked around. It was a pretty standard room - television, desk, a fairly large bed. Looked clean. Her eyes landed on the bed and they focused on the spot, and she envisioned the two of them lying there. This will definitely do.
Her back was turned to him, and she heard the click of the door behind her as Peter closed it. He came to her and he put his hands on her shoulders. She could feel his heat behind her and the strength of his hands when they grabbed her hips. He pushed her hair off her shoulder and leaned in, skimming his lips along the sensitive skin of her neck.
She was overcome by the feeling of his hands sliding down her arms, until they came to rest at her waist. He pushed her gently, walking her to the nearby wall, and in a couple of quick steps, she was pressed lightly into it, her back to his chest, and she could feel his arousal, thick and hard against her spine. He bent over her and his lips again found the sensitive skin of her neck, they parted and he nipped her lightly while his hands smoothed up and down, over the curve of her hips and waist. Peter took her hands in his and raised them over her head and against the wall, caging Erica in, and she closed her eyes and leaned back into him, where he continued to kiss the side of her neck, her jawline and her shoulders. Erica turned her head to the side, allowing him to take her mouth with his.
He kissed her with the fire she knew he would. His lips strong and firm against her own. And when her lips parted, his tongue swept in, finding hers, stroking it, stoking the fires of need that curled low in her stomach and shot upwards, throughout her body. He pulled away and, surprised, she was barely able to catch her breath before his large hands took her hips again and in one swift movement, he turned her so that she was facing him.
God, that face. Sharp cheekbones and firm jawline. Straight, white teeth when he smiled. A wicked smile that held so much promise, and highlighted the dimple she hadn’t before noticed in his left cheek. She smiled back at him.
He cupped her face and leaned in. Again, his mouth took hers, dominated it, and owned it. She could vaguely taste the beer that still clung to his breath, but mostly his taste was completely unique to him. She needed more, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. She exhilarated in the feeling of the short, rough hairs of his five o’clock shadow that covered the lower half of his face, and scratched her chin. The man could kiss, and she moaned appreciatively.
In response, Peter's hands slid past her hips, to settle on her luscious backside before making their way to the backs of her thighs. With seemingly no effort he pulled her up and lifted her, and began kissing her chest, tonguing the dips in her collarbone and the rise of her breasts. Erica’s legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. A man had never ever lifted her like that before; something she could definitely get used to. But she pulled back, momentarily, she found herself self-conscious about the bit of extra weight she carried, and she tried to wriggle her way back to standing.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her, pulling his lips from her body. In response to her pulling away, he only gripped her more tightly. The concern etched on his face was an emotion second only to his palpable desire.
She smiled at him. He was still holding her in place, pinned against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist and she couldn’t, wouldn’t break free. Not that she wanted to. This dark, dangerous man was an actual sweetheart. “Nothing,” she told him, and it was the truth. “Everything is fine.”
“Just fine?” he asked her, smiling, showing that devastating flash of teeth. “I’m going to have to do a lot better than that.”
Erica was at his mercy as he held her to the wall, his hands and lips all over her. She delighted in the feeling of him, but she was never one to be passive in bed, and she yearned to be a more active participant. She reached out for him. She touched his face, his hair, the strong muscles of his neck and shoulders. And when he thrust his hard length against her core, she moaned in anticipation for what was to come.
They were both still dressed, and their clothes proved to be a frustrating barrier. Peter pulled at the buttons on the low neckline of her dress, exposing the lacy cups of her bra, and when his large hands molded her full breasts, she thought she might explode.
"Oh Jesus," he breathed, raising his head to get an eyeful of the filmy red lace. Through the thin material of her bra, he could make out the outline of her nipples, erect, straining to break free. He lowered his face to her incredible chest and through the lace, he brought a rosy tip to his mouth, pulling it between his lips through the material, nipping lightly with his teeth. He smiled with satisfaction when she cried out, and he took her in his mouth again, flicking the hardened nub with his tongue. Before long, he tired of the lacy obstruction and he needed to taste her. With enough force to rip the material clear from her chest, he roughly pulled down her bra, to expose both of her incredible breasts.
With a growl, Peter moved in, feeding ravenously on her. He was an animal, feral. He couldn’t control himself, as nothing had ever tasted as amazing as Erica’s skin. Some enchanting combination of sweet and salty, mixed with the scent of her perfume or body lotion – lilac? He was so fixated on tasting her that he barely heard the thud when she threw her head back, and inadvertently smacked it hard into the wall behind her.
“Are you okay?”
he asked, pulling away. He looked up concerned, but with a laugh on his lips.
In response, she smiled and gripped his head with her hands. She said nothing and pulled his face back into her chest, holding him in place. While he indulged, she pulled hard – delightfully so – on his hair, and she keened and bucked wildly against his hips. He pulled away from her delicious nipples and took her mouth with his once again. Much obliged…
With her legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, Peter pushed away from the wall and he carried her to the bed. He lowered her gently and he kneeled on the mattress between her legs, taking her in. She laid before him, knees spread, and he put both hands on her knees and slowly glided them up her thighs. He reached the edge of her skirt and he pushed it up over her thighs, and she sighed, urging him on, until the lacy red panties that matched her bra were exposed. She was absolutely perfect.
"I love red," he sighed reverently and he bent to kiss her. But she surprised him when she reached and grabbed his shirt by its collar, stretching it, and she pulled him to her. She quickly divested him of his shirt, and she pushed him away slightly looking him up and down.
“Wow,” she breathed. Erica was blown away by Peter’s body. He looked even better in real life than he had in her dream. Sure, she had seen guys that looked like him in ads and in movies, but she had never actually been with a man that looked quite like him. And until that moment, she hadn’t believed that a man could actually look as amazing as that in reality. He was strong. Finely chiseled muscles covered by a layer of soft, dark hair. She reached for him again. She needed to touch him. Everywhere.
"Well, look at you," she murmured, dragging her fingers over his pecs and down his abdominal muscles. She smiled up at him. When her fingers stroked a ticklish spot on his side, near his hip bone, he twitched and she laughed.
Bump & Grind (Brewed Moon Book 1) Page 5