by Susan Arden
There was no teasing going on between us. He was concerned about me, and I wanted to argue. Would this be the sticking point upon which we teetered? My urge to buck his authority over my welfare made no sense. I sucked in the words crouched on the tip of my tongue, trying to sidestep the muck of my false pride or another round of hard-delivered spankings.
“No. I get your point.” I shot upright on the couch.
“Get dressed, and I’ll make you forget your anger. You came for a good time. I have other facets to my personality besides ogre. I’d like you to see that before you categorize me as an overbearing sod.”
“Will you always show up out of the blue, just because you think I’m unsafe?” I scrambled up and off the sofa, my chest heaving.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. That was his way of stepping back. I was learning to read him. “Is that wrong? Do you really think it’s inappropriate that someone should care about you?”
“Care and control aren’t the same. We hardly know each other. How much could you possibly care about me? Really, Graham.” The speed with which he crossed back to me and took me by the shoulders startled me, and I flinched. Without ample time to guard my reactions, I dissolved into old habits and felt the sting of humiliation.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Was he saying it because I winced? It didn’t stop him from taking a hold of me and planting his hands roughly on my shoulders.
“Those are nice words, and I’m well aware how good you are in winning a debate. Almost as good as the other parts to your personality,” I retorted, mortified that my past would be transparent. I’d rather him think me a bitch than a victim.
“Damn, Eliza.” My jaw rattled as he shook me. “What is so hard to understand? I do care about you. Do you think I normally pick up women out of parking lots and keep them for months at a time? You’re the first woman I’ve done anything like this with. I care. Okay? And you have an issue with people wanting to help you. I may have control patterns, and it’s because generally I don’t have the time or patience to mutually work out the details. It’s easier for me to make decisions and move on. If that makes me a controlling bastard, then I’ll take it. But you can’t walk the line of putting yourself in questionable circumstances and expect everyone in your life to watch you self-destruct. Did your sister really allow you to drive that car of yours or did she get tired of arguing?” He let me go and walked toward the window.
A hundred thoughts skated through my brain. I was glad he’d turned around and didn’t witness the blush burning across my cheeks. I was speechless because his points weren’t news; they were the chorus to my personal theme song sung by my sister. Well, it was better he understood “easy” wasn’t a term to classify me, if tonight were truly about learning a thing or two about each other. Sighing, I pulled my dress back in place, lifting the shoulders straps and smoothing the beaded material. I ran my fingers through my hair, wondering about my freshly fucked appearance and how soon it would take Carmen or Val to peg my absence as due to sex. But that wasn’t the problem right now.
No argument, he’d spoken the truth. I walked up behind him, aching to reach out and touch him, run my hands up his back and over his shoulders, but stopped a foot from his body. This was another doorway, one I could shut and seal…or go through. He waited on the other side—all I had to do was be brave enough to trust him.
I inhaled, pushing aside the discomfort of admitting I was wrong. “You’re right. I bought it and refused to listen to anyone. My sister and her husband were unhappy. They begged me not to get it, but I threatened if not that car then I’d get a motorcycle. I don’t know why I do what I do. I guess if I were into fitting in, I wouldn’t be sitting here, considering your offer. So, you can’t exactly criticize me. If I were as normal as you’d like, I would’ve told you to go to hell.” I’d finished and had twisted my fingers into pretzel shapes.
He swung around. “I don’t want you to be normal if it means you’re like everyone else I encounter. You’re strong and sure of yourself. But headstrong from a lack of experience. That’s not a bad thing. The opposite in fact.” His gravelly voice came out low, warm, and protective. I was drawn to his dark eyes and the message he conveyed. No accusation, only his belief in me…a balm to my frayed self-concept, and what I needed if I ever decided to stop fighting him.
“Okay,” I exhaled. “I hear what you’re saying. I guess I should say thank you.”
He lifted my chin, staring down at me, and it felt as though I was melting from the inside out. “I want you to consider yourself more. That’s it. I’d change nothing else about you. Not even your disagreeable temperament or argumentative nature.”
Tears stung and pooled in my eyes. I didn’t want him to see me become emotional. I nodded, closing my eyes. In an instant, he pulled me against him, wrapping me in his arms, his warm body pressing closer to me. “Eliza, let me inside your world. I won’t hurt you.”
“Please. I’m fine. Truly.” I didn’t know what to do and struggled to get free.
His arms kept me wrapped me in a vise, and he kissed the side of my head. “We can work through these things. Say yes and come away with me. I’m certain we’re good for each other.”
“We are.” I wiped my eyelids before lifting my head off his shoulder. “I need time to think. You said I could have until Sunday.”
“A question mark until the end. I’m not surprised that you don’t bend easily.” Skimming his lips over my cheek, he asked, “What about that dance? I promised, and we can share a drink in celebration of having found each other. From one hardhead to another.”
“My blockhead would like that.” I gently head-butted his chin while squeezing my fingers around his arm. I tugged him toward me. “Has anyone ever mentioned you have the force of a hurricane?”
“On occasion.” He nodded. “But you can handle me.”
The jury was out about whether a tall, gorgeous hurricane was going to help or unsettle me. Graham had the power to disrupt my entire life if I agreed to his terms. Like a storm, he’d be in a position to unhinge me or help me. Nature viewed a hurricane differently than many people around Miami. Clear the air, sweep away useless debris, leveling the ground around for new growth to take root, grow, and possibly flourish. What he offered me might be a fresh start.
“Thanks for your vote of confidence.” I shivered in his arms, poised at a fork in the road.
Leaning back, his eyes bored into me, unblinking. “You’re not alone in new experiences. I never thought after spending a few hours with a woman, I’d find her obstinacy appealing. Today has certainly been different.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Down on the dance floor, Graham pulled me forward, holding onto my arm and leading me to a secluded corner. He placed his hand possessively on my hip, bringing me close to him but not body to body. A smile tugged at his mouth as the Latin beat flared, and he held my hand with complete assurance, drawing me within the cage of his arms and using his body language to relay he knew a thing or two about Latin dancing.
“Salsa much?” I asked, savoring the connection we had going.
“Some,” he replied with a lopsided smile.
The saxophone, trumpet, and trombone players riffed in unison—short, loud, and syncopated. The conguero tapped his palms rapidly over his conga drums, the rest of the rhythm section joined in, and the overpowering music sent my pulse racing. A pair of dancers in front of us broke out in fast-paced pivots. God, if Graham could do on the dance floor what he did in bed, I’d be in a heap of trouble. I doubted someone who sat behind a desk all week got out and danced much. Until he started to move, smoothly maneuvering me to follow his lead.
“More than just some,” I said as his Salsa mastery enveloped me. It was easy to tell in a few steps who danced…and who danced. Graham definitely danced.
“I can hold my own.” As if to demonstrate, he banded his arm around my waist, cinching me in his hold. He leaned over, whispering in my ear. “Baby, I’ve got you.�
��
Our hands were clasped but not tight as he guided me, turning my body, then moving a few inches to redirect my steps. He took hold of my wrists, and slowly brought my arms upward and kept me captive as I danced in front of him. For him. His eyes darkened into chips of obsidian as he watched me, and I felt myself go wet in wanting him. I’d just booked passage on a return trip to the land of trouble, and I loved it.
“Liar. I can’t believe you dance this well.” I watched in fascination as he moved, and all I had to do was hold onto him. There was no hesitation—his moves were sharp. He already knew his next step and mine so it seemed. Within our dance, he exuded power, grace, and confidence. Each time he spun me around, jolts of desire shot through my core and left me a little breathless.
He held me to him, gazing fervently into my eyes. “It’s all about control. Meticulous movement.”
The dance required we maintain a gliding connection where he kept one hand in contact with mine, and the freer I moved, the easier he controlled my body. No surprise.
I felt the heat from his fingers at my back, a constant pressure as we stretched like a rubber band, coming apart only to be snapped back together. His dark eyes glinted with amusement when our gazes collided.
His fingers grazed my over my arms. His moves were sharp, so distinct that I effortlessly followed his lead. Together we danced almost as one. Never haphazard, he dominated me with his dance steps, exerting the perfect balance, and giving me another variation of his magnetic masculinity before veering away as we separated in a fast executed pivot. Graham commanded the dance, my body, and the space around us. And I ate it up, coming undone.
“Ready?” he asked, bending over me with a playful smile. He leaned in close, his lips brushing over my ear. “Move with me.”
Through the clattering of my heartbeat, I nodded. A grin spread over my face that hurt my cheeks. His deep, dark eyes devoured me as he kept up the fast-paced dance steps; I could only follow within his arms that refused to let me stumble. Oh no, I was wrong. I felt myself arc backward. The feeling of falling stuttered my senses, and I grabbed onto his sculpted shoulders before realizing he cradled me with a strong hand.
“You’re so dead,” I growled, looking up at him, my pulse running wild in my veins.
“Keep your legs closed.” Graham canted over me, his other hand possessively on my hip as he showed me how to dip. “You’re safe and beautiful.”
He looked like he would kiss me, but he held back. God, I wished he could kiss me, but that wasn’t what we were about. Was it?
“Good save. Fine, I forgive you.” I laughed effortlessly as he pulled me upright, and grasped how the stress normally weighing me down had been missing for the last few minutes. “Strange, it feels like I’m free out here.”
“Another reason why people dance.” He twirled me, demonstrating his point. The dance ended with me meeting him with my thigh raised along his hip as his fingers covertly caressed the skin between my legs. To others, our pose probably looked like an experienced dancer hooking his partner’s knee. My chest heaved as I stared up at him.
Our audience clapped. A blush billowed up my neck to my cheeks. “Looks like you’ve captivated the other dancers,” I remarked.
“Team effort. You dance well.” He arched a brow and released my leg while raising my arms above my head before giving me a lingering peck on my cheek. The spot on my face where his lips had touched tingled, and I didn’t understand why he risked a photo opportunity. Dillon could still be around, as were a club of people with handy cell phone cameras.
“What happened to public privacy?” I stiffened, uncomfortably aware of the crowd around us.
“Like I said, you dance well. Maybe I just forgot.” He took hold of my hand and steered us off to the side of the dance floor, unobstructed but away from the others dancing. “Drink?” he asked, facing me, and my cheeks burned even hotter.
I seriously didn’t believe he forgot anything, but I didn’t want to debate the issue, not knowing who might be doing more than casually observing us. So far no one seemed to stare, although I heard his name murmured and thought I glimpsed a few flashes—hard to tell with the blinking laser lighting, and people were always taking photographs in clubs.
“Sure. I’m thirsty and hot.” I stepped forward on the way to exiting the dance floor, and he reached out, curling his fingers around my wrist, and stopped me. I hesitated, glancing back at him.
He rubbed his thumb along the inside of my wrist while a muscle twitched along his jaw. “Eliza, who do you dance for?”
I wanted to slip my arms around his neck, pull him as close as we’d been dancing, but this was out in public, and I couldn’t risk it, and neither could he. A peck was easy to explain as courtesy, nothing more. And I refrained from that type of more at the moment. Staring up into his face, I found myself unable to breathe and hardly able to think from the intensity shining in his eyes. He looked so raw and carnal, his question equally provocative. I leaned but stopped, jerking away. Pretend! Just freaking pretend he’s your boss.
“Don’t make this more difficult than it is already. We must pretend in a crowd, Graham. Even while thinking about touching, kissing, and fucking each other.”
“Fine,” he remarked, yet he didn’t move or back away. He could have done so many things, but he simply stared. All the more forceful. Yeah, he had the power moves memorized, and what did I have?
“Eliza, answer the question.”
He broke apart my mental ramblings and I spouted, “Don’t you know?” He stared back at me. Still silent. Still waiting. Oh. I got it. “You want me to say you.”
Pulling me closer, he leaned over, his jaw scraping across my cheek as he growled against my ear, “No. I want it to be me. Not just the words. Not just because I’m asking you.”
I should have pulled my arm away, but inside my chest constricted. Instead I coolly played this off. “Words? That’s funny after our last discussion upstairs.”
But it wasn’t really. I suddenly felt a pang of possessiveness over him, or what it could be like if I didn’t find some balance. How had we come this far in one day? Words should be the only thing we shared if I wanted a modicum of my sanity left. Aside from private, hot, sweaty sex. Not a thing more.
And there we were, in a dance club, and I stared back up at him, his hands possessing me and his body controlling me. The situation was darkly humorous that I should feel anything proprietary for him. But I did. I wanted him. Hard to keep that door closed when he seemed to want the same thing. He’d already admitted he wanted me through more than words. Didn’t he?
Still, I wasn’t about to simply cave. “Photographs. How’s that for a word?”
Our eyes locked, and he sighed, “I’ll deal with that issue.”
“It’s not just your problem. Don’t you understand? This is also about my family.” By that time, the other dancers made room for us, which meant we’d garnered too much attention, considering the overtaxed body limit of Solarium. Anyone might photograph us! I kept reminding myself, using the idea to keep from openly touching him…or worse, kissing him.
Grimacing, he let go of me. “One more day, I’ll get the issue worked out for both of us. That’s what PR teams do. They spin. Whatever story we want. But first you need to decide and commit.” He took my hand and led me off the dance floor but stopped and dipped his head, speaking against my hair. “After Sunday, no problem. I’ll have a PR firm ready to deal with the first splash. Nothing to worry about. This is only one dance. We’re not guilty of anything but having a good time. Right?”
I stared in shock at the idea of requiring a PR firm to handle anything where I was concerned, and countered with a mental slap to my head and a no duh! Again, Luke’s words buzzed in my head. Big. League. I had to get with the program and fast. Graham, a huge rising star in the business world, needed to manage what the public perceived. But Graham, the man, was real to me—not a jet-set story splashed about by the press. Yet, no matter what he wo
rked out, it had to be seamless where Laura and Luke were concerned.
A flicker of something crossed his face as we stared at one another. Was it guilt? “Yeah, no problem,” I echoed, feeling more on edge.
He unleashed another one of his suggestive grins. “Since you seem to enjoy dancing, let’s not leave yet. Dance for me, Eliza. One more and I’ll behave.” His voice held a note as though his question held more than a dare.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” My too-hot face flushed as I tightened my jaw. I wanted to whisper, “yes” and admit I danced only for him.
“I’m simply waiting for your answer. Yes. Or no?”
Before I could respond, a group of rowdy dancers moved right between us, jostling me, and we were separated. Graham used his height and power, stepping in front of another surge of bodies as he twined his fingers with mine to keep us together. Smoky steam filled the area. The lights flashed and then darkened. Graham pulled me against him, his lips brushing then sucking at my earlobe. The sensual song fit how he held me.
I snaked my arms up his chest and around his shoulders. “Tell me the truth. What were you thinking?”
“Baby, that you’re…” His hands reached down, and provocatively hauled me up against him, curving his hands over my hips. “Mine.”
I pulled farther apart and met his gaze. “We can’t. Even if you’re so sure of yourself and your PR team. One leak won’t work for me. I have to first explain things to my family, not spin damage control.” I registered the spark of excitement his touch elicited and was torn that I couldn’t give in.
Hurricane Graham raised an eyebrow. “Your family is going to have a problem with me?”
“Believe it or not, they don’t think the circles you travel are in my best interest.”
“They’re wrong about me in relation to you. What we have, no one could contextualize. You’re setting a precedent in my world.” In a heartbeat, he pulled me back into his arms, my body up against him from thigh to chest. I faltered for a second, running my hands over the grooves of his back. I lifted my face to meet his stare, unprepared for his gaze. In the dim lighting, the primal expression in his eyes was gut-wrenching and overpowered me. He smiled again, but this one was different…intimate, and for a heartbeat, he appeared exposed as though he’d shared something private—so private it shocked him to utter it out loud.