Every girl knew the rule. Without exception, curtail the extracurricular activities, keeping the hands in appropriate places, lips only on neck, cheek and mouth. Mouth. I so wanted his on mine. I trusted my reserve, knowing I'd hate myself in the morning if I gave into exploding passion threatening to burst through the seams of my self-control.
“Tell me about it. You’ve very comfortable.”
He chuckled. “Comfortable? You have a delightful way of expressing yourself. But I think I know what you mean. You fit just right in my arms. Not an inch too big ... not an inch too small.”
“You know that we’re slow dancing to techno, right?”
"Is there music?"
"There sure is ... booty music."
He chuckled and pressed his forehead to mine.
"You don't rock out, do you ..."
"I used to."
I pulled my head back. "Not anymore?"
He drew me back in. “Mmm. I like dancing with you. It doesn’t matter what kind of music, as long as I can hold you close. Do you come here often?”
“When the spirit moves me.”
“I like your spirit ... and your moves. You’re a good dancer. Nice and smooth ... and confident. You’ve got it going on.”
“Dancing is the best way to release anxiety, express myself. I guess you could call it a homeopathic remedy.”
“Anxiety? What do you have to be anxious about?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“We’ll have to work on those anxiety issues, but I tell you, I do like your style of expression.”
“I can express even better if I’m provoked.”
His hands slid softly over my back, while his lips caressed my neck. “So, what does it take to provoke you?”
“It’s a secret,” I whispered into his ear.
“You’re a tease.”
“I guess you’re just going to have to find out for yourself ... in due time.”
“How much time are we talking here?”
“That all depends ...”
I slid my hands over his shoulders, gripping the muscles beneath my palms, massaging, fingertips drifting up the sides of his neck, aching for another trek through his hair. Then weaving my arms beneath his, I explored the width of his broad back, fingers running across his shoulder blades, sliding down his spine, drawing warm circles, urging him deep into me. Well, in my imagination. I couldn't let the feeling slip away without a taste of what it might be like. It would be good. So good. But I wasn't going there.
Still, swaying on tippy toes, I lifted my head which had been pressed against his soft sweater, and let my mouth do its thing, up and down the side of his neck. I knew my lips were plush, and felt them melt into his smooth skin. Desire surging, I began to nibble.
I felt him tense, which made my mouth work harder, wander to his cheek. So in tune, we each drew back, so the only intimacy was in our eyes that locked. My lids felt so heavy they fell into a slow blink without my approval, creating what had to be a total hop-into-bed-with-me look. His eyes did the same, then clung to mine, so sexy, so determined, reaching for my soul. With his fingertips, he stroked my cheek, positioned my face, and with a dreamy gaze he angled his head, moving in for the kill, his breath on my lips so inviting.
His eyes owned my face, studying, savoring. Telling me everything a girl could ever want to know. His lips dropped onto mine, softly covering the top, then claiming the lower. Before I had a chance to slip my tongue over his, the DJ's voice broke our kiss.
Holy shit. What a time for an interruption.
SHAKING UP WITH INDIGO
Both of my hands glued to one of Indigo's, I followed him from the dance floor, our steps winding through the club, past the bar. I didn't see Em and Bill anywhere, and wondered if I'd have to lay low when I got home.
We stepped into an alcove where a few others mingled, chatting in low tones, sipping drinks. Indigo chose a corner near the front door where we welcomed cool bursts of air as the door opened wide, then with the aid of silent air hinges, closed in slow motion. A glow from the club's neon sign filtered through the sidelights, washing across our faces. With it came reality, and the intimacy we'd shared on the darkened dance floor dissipated.
"So, how was your week?" He grinned, then leaned against the wall, a knee bent, the sole of a laced leather shoe propped against the painted molding. Striking an impromptu pose, his arms crossed his chest. It was the first chance I'd had to get a good look at him since he entered the club. He was as gorgeous as ever. His hair was styled off his face and kind of spiky, but one stubborn lock feathered his brow. He appeared as relaxed as his jeans, and his sapphire pullover chiseled blue facets into the gray of his eyes.
"Not very earthshaking." I pruned my face.
"Aw. I figured you'd be out and about burning up gears on your bike."
"I don't ride my bike to work or school." Standing before him, I smirked.
"Really? I kind of pictured you as one of those cycling commuters, you know, weaving in and out of traffic, throwing hand signals around, playing chicken with taxis." He chuckled, and continued to tease. "Bopping to music with your earbuds ... stopping traffic." He scanned my face. "So ... I take it you don't want to ask about my week?" His grin was beginning to shrink.
"How was your week?" My eyes narrowed slightly.
My scowl must have stopped him, because his gaze shifted over my head, to where a Coors poster hung on the wall. In a moment his eyes returned to mine, but he had lost his humor, along with his playful tone. "What's wrong? Did I say something to upset you? I was only playing around ..." His brows drew together. "You're so adorable and feisty, I can't help but tease you. I like to get you going. You're fun to be with ..."
I felt my lids lower, and suddenly, I was staring at the floor. "Something's bothering me."
He brought my chin up with his index finger. "If it's something I've done, tell me what it is, so it doesn't happen again. I don't like making mistakes ... not even once ... no less twice."
"Sounds like you've made some big ones."
His eyes widened. "I don't know what you're implying, and don't believe I want to know, but in my profession, I can't afford to make any."
By the sound of his voice, the look on his face, I knew I was pissing him off.
"You're different tonight." He dropped his arms to his sides, then stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. His back still rested against the wall.
"I guess I feel different."
He pulled his hands from his pockets and palms up, held them out. "You have to tell me Jewel. You can tell me anything, especially if I've done something to hurt you. I'd never want to do that." Once again, his arms crossed his chest in a display of stubbornness that matched his jaw. “If you don’t confide in me, how will I know? That’s what I say to my patients. If you don’t tell me where it hurts, how will I know how to stop the pain?”
“I’m not your patient.”
He let out a deep sigh. “Seems we’re getting nowhere.”
"I guess it wasn't intentional." I scanned the room, focusing on anything other than his face, considering how to phrase the question that had been troubling me all week. "At least I hope it wasn't." Now standing beside him, I rolled my shoulder against the wall. An arm draped behind my pitched hip, I faced his profile. "Did you know Bill was meeting Emma tonight?"
His head turned slowly. “Not until this afternoon.” He may have been acting out of indifference, but the movement was sultry, as was his voice.
Holy shit, did he take behavioral sex classes? If this attitude was naturally occurring, and just talking had this effect on internal organs ... Imagine? I couldn’t, because if I did, I’d be staring up at him from the floor.
My only alternative was to put my mind elsewhere and harden my shell. “Yeah. So he called her on Wednesday.”
His eyes were trained on my face. One side of his mouth twitched, but it didn't appear to be the onset of a grin.
"Yeah. She was hap
py to hear from him. They're having a great time ..." I rolled my cross in my fingers, "inside dancing, drinking. Like they really want to be together."
He frowned. "Are you upset that I didn't call you?"
The fact that exhausted as he was he had shown up at the club and sought me out, boosted my confidence. "You could have called to say you were busy," I blurted.
"I shouldn't have asked." His words were tight. "I can see you're upset."
"Kind of." I lifted my chin, ready for our first altercation.
For a moment he looked puzzled as he studied me, then his face softened. His arms unlocked and after straightening his stance, he reached for a length of my hair, twirling it around a finger. His gaze moved from the chestnut curl to my expectant face.
"Again ... I'm sorry. You're right, it was thoughtless. I guess I left you with a certain impression ..." His glance shifted to the opening door and returned, accompanied by another cool burst of air. "You should know something about me. When I'm at the hospital, facing those kids, ready to give my life to make them well, I lose all sense of time ... of me."
His face filled with compassion. He was such a humanitarian, reminding me of the sweet guy Emma had dated until he joined the Peace Corps and relocated to the other side of the world. The mere thought of losing Indigo to his dedication shot fear through my limbs. Suppose someday he decided to take off to a distant place where duty called? I was being silly. Stop it, Jewel.
I ran a palm over the side of his face, feeling the bristly brush of sprouting beard. From the circles forming beneath his eyes, I knew he was tired. And here I was, harassing him.
"If you want to call it a night, I'll understand. There'll be other nights ..." After dropping the hint, I vowed to think more about others than myself. I might not become a true humanitarian, but I'd certainly become more accommodating. I'd try, anyway ...
He should have left well enough alone, but continued to explain.
"I also had to help my folks move some things to the Hamptons."
Vanessa strikes again. I almost hurled. "They're moving?"
"No. Setting up the beach house. They like to spend the holidays there."
The holidays that popped into my head were Christmas and Easter, without sand and bikinis.
"Nice." My voice was flat. I must have been getting to him, because he let out a sigh.
"Would you like to go back inside to find your friend?" Uncoiling the chunk of my hair he was still holding, he smoothed it back into place, brushing it all off my shoulder so it flowed down my back. "I haven't even had a drink yet and you're trying to get rid of me." With his plump, beautiful lips, he faked a pout.
"Never." I hadn't intended for my whisper to sound so husky.
His fingertips swept my cheek, and his placating grin was turning me into putty. "I thought about you a lot this week, and I do want to be with you. If I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here right now."
Without thinking, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed so tight my breasts sank into his chest. I abruptly let go and took a backward step, mumbling, "I could do another round."
Taking my hand, he chuckled. "Come on, Kit Kat. Hey, where's your bodyguard, anyway? I was looking forward to having it out with him again. How'd he come up with that name for you, anyway?"
He seemed pretty interested in my relationship with Pete. I decided to keep him hanging a while longer. "It's a long story, and it has nothing to do with the candy bar."
"You'll have to share it sometime." His arm went around my waist, guiding me.
We moseyed back into the club, greeted by a thumping beat and a bouncer whose broad shoulder blocked us. "Hey, man. Good to see you." He slung an arm around Indigo.
I paused to watch them share a forearm smash.
"You too, man," Indigo's voice changed pitch when he addressed the other guy, which I thought was humorous. Guys ...
The bar stood before us, available stools inviting. Most of the club's occupants had funneled onto the dance floor, some filling the carpeted area around it. Partiers grooved solo, some paired off, making it difficult to distinguish who they were with. A group formed a circle as two dancers tried to show each other up.
Indigo pulled out a stool, waited for me to settle, and pushed me close to the bar. He brought his seat near enough for our arms to merge. The atmosphere at our end of the club was calmer, still, I leaned into his side to talk to him. Intimacy had returned, but something still bugged me.
After we ordered our drinks, I confronted. "You come here often, huh?"
"Not anymore." He rolled his glass in his palms.
"You seem to know the bouncer pretty well." I pulled my drink through my straw.
"He's my cousin. Funny how you run into relatives in bars, or wherever, and not their houses. Sucks not seeing enough of your own family."
Did I detect a bitter tone?
"How true." I thought of meeting up with mine at restaurants halfway between my place and theirs, so neither would have to travel the entire distance. "So. My Kit Kat story. Wanna hear it?"
"Sure." Swiveling, he draped his arm over the back of my barstool. I felt his delightful warmth when he leaned into me, pressing his forearm against my back. He brought his face close and watched me.
"Eh. It's no big deal." I felt dumb.
He grinned. "I bet it is. You're just being shy."
"How'd you guess that's how I got the Kit."
He threw his head back and laughed. "Shy, but playful as a kitten. I should have known it was something like that. How about the Kat?"
I held up my hands and arched my fingers; my painted nails like claws, I hissed.
His face filled with amusement ... admiration? He laughed harder. "I was kind of hoping it would be candy though," his face went serious, "nice and sweet on the outside," he sifted a lock of my hair in his fingers, "soft and delicious inside."
"Crunchy." I took a sip of my drink, watching him from the corner of my eye.
His brows rounded.
"Kit Kat's crunchy on the inside ..."
With his chin he nudged my hair from my ear and his lips made contact. "I bet you're as soft as your beautiful lips," he whispered. "You're really something else, Jewel." His breath was a burst of warm mint lingering from a sip of a Mojito.
So drawn by his presence, his clean, fresh scent, the way he openly expressed his emotions, I fell speechless. He didn't seem to be hiding anything tonight. I could be myself with him. Why wasn't I?
"I feel the same ... about you." I managed. I wanted to say more, tell him things I felt, but had to hold an ace in my hand. Nikos had been a fantastic teacher. "So tell me about your upcoming residency. Gonna be a long haul, huh?"
"Yeah. It's going to take some time to get where I want to be. But, I don't mind the hours, or throwing myself into it. Medicine is fulfilling."
"It's nice that you're so devoted." I hoped he'd be so inclined in a personal relationship.
"What's it like in Poughkeepsie?" His arm moved from the chair to my shoulders. His fingers sifted my hair again, then his thumb stroked the side of my face, easing me closer.
"We have a good-sized train station. Awesome shopping malls. Great schools." I swiveled to face him.
"I'm not trying to buy the place." He chuckled softly. "You sound like a real estate agent. And I have to add, you've got a great sales pitch."
He lifted my chin, bringing our lips together, catching me so off guard my eyes remained open. I barely felt the pressure, his touch was that slight. He drew back enough to search my face, then tucked my hair behind an ear.
"So what is Pete's story? An unstable ex who can't let go? A hopeful?"
"Not hardly." Somehow my hand had landed on his thigh, and as he stroked circles on my cheek, my fingers drew lines across the fabric of his jeans. "So ... who's the mysterious beauty Bill mentioned that day in the park?" I had to hear it from his own lips.
"I think you already know the answer to that." His grin was slight, his eyes de
ep as his voice. "You take my breath away."
"You make mine heavy," I whispered.
His thumb slid across my mouth. "When I close my eyes, I see your lips."
"Looking at you makes me forget where I am."
"If I could hold you forever, it wouldn't be long enough." He smiled, then chuckled softly. "I know what started with an honest comment, kind of turned into banter, but what's said in jest ..."
The emotion between us had been gaining momentum, the burning attraction impossible to disguise. The stare we held was relentless, refusing to release. The space between us narrowed, our breath soft, blending. I ran my fingers up the side of his face, into his hair. He angled his head. My lips parted ... pursed.
Laughter erupted behind us, jarring us apart. We spun at the same time to spot a wobbling Emma and Bill, arms binding them together, their free hands holding drinks. They seemed to be about to bail, and I hated the thought. Things were just heating up. I couldn't bear saying goodnight. Not after the most incredible almost kiss. Great timing, guys. From the hint of a scowl, Indigo's annoyance was obvious as well.
Emma looked absolutely wasted. Unwinding from Indigo's arms, I hopped to my feet. "Let's go, girlfriend. You're going home."
"Billy and I worked everything out, Jewel." Her glassy gaze shifted from me to Bill. "I'm so relieved. Did I tell you we knew each other in Texas?"
Indigo appeared at my side, draped an arm around my shoulders and chuckled. "You're hammered, Arkana. Glad you're walking home." He gave me a squeeze and lowered his head, resting his cheek beside mine. "Look at these two. What do you think we should do with them, Jewel? Call them a cab, take them out for food, throw them into cold showers?" He chuckled. "Get them a room?" His words blew into my ear.
"I'll crash at your place if you don't mind." Bill faced Em. "It's closer. Doubt I'd make it back to Texas tonight."
"You'll have to settle for my couch and an afghan, Arkana. I didn't hear the ladies invite you to a sleepover."
Head Over Wheels (Spicy Young Romance) Page 10