Sea Breeze (6 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Senhaji,Patricia D. Eddy

BOOK: Sea Breeze
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“Yeah, well. I’m trying to be more adventurous.”

He takes a breath and examines my features again.

“What?”

“Trying to figure you out.” He rubs his upper lip with his forefinger.

I’m mesmerized by how long his fingers are, and absently reply, “Yeah, me too.”

“Will you dance with me again?” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray and I do the same.

“Sure.”

“You’ll have to stay for a while. I have to play again, but at the next break, okay?”

“Okay.”

He holds the door open for me as we head back in. “Don’t disappear this time.”

“I won’t.”

I find a seat at the bar again and order a whiskey sour. I send a glass of Glenlivet 18 on the rocks over to Eric as he sets up for his next set. He tips his glass at me in thanks, takes a sip, and the corners of his mouth turn up in appreciation. I sip my drink, listening to the music, enthralled by the way his fingers manipulate the strings.

George and Ella sway together on the dance floor, perfectly in sync. They’re sweet and in love, even now. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

There’s a gentleman, in his late sixties maybe, standing off to one corner. He’s been standing there a while, and I haven’t seen anyone with him this whole time.

I put my drink down and make my way over. “Hey, good-lookin’. How about a dance?”

He looks behind him and then back at me. “Me?” He points to himself in surprise.

“Yes. If you’re not otherwise engaged.”

“Honey, for you, I’d make myself available.” He takes my hand and leads me onto the dance floor. We dance together and he’s a sweet old guy, until his hand wanders a little too far south. My head pops up and I search Eric out. He’s cracking up laughing as I pull the guy’s hand off my, er, lower back to a more appropriate height.

Later, during a high-tempo number, I can’t sit still, and can’t help but agree to dance with Gary again when he asks. He tried to dance with the blonde he was chatting up for a while at the end of the bar, but she wasn’t really keeping up. Not that I’m some great dancer. I know how to let him lead.

Eric keeps a close eye on us as we walk onto the dance floor, and I roll my eyes in his direction. The band starts playing “You and Me and the Bottle Makes 3 Tonight” by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, and Gary and I immediately fall into a perfect rhythm. I can’t deny we have dance chemistry, and it feels great. My eyes search out Eric. His gaze is intense, his jaw taut as his fingers pull against the strings. As Gary twirls me around the dance floor, I imagine how Eric’s fingers could play me. His long, skilled fingers...

My face flushes, not from the exertion but from my dirty thoughts, and my gaze snaps back to Eric. His jaw dips as he watches me from under his lashes, his lips parted, almost as if he read my thoughts. The string is there again, pulled tight between us. I’m hyperaware of his eyes on me the entire time I dance with Gary.

Eventually, the song ends, and I take my seat back at the bar while Gary stays to talk to a pretty redhead on the other side of the room. Eric’s shoulders sag and his brow lifts. Holding my drink up in his direction, I smile and get a wink from him in return. He scratches the back of his head, lets out a big breath, and talks to the guy holding a saxophone for a minute before they start the next song.

It’s another forty minutes before the band finally winds down and the singer addresses the crowd.

“Thank you for coming tonight. We are The Big Instruments.”

I almost choke on my drink. Ha.

The band starts to put away their instruments as the sound system plays a little Duke Ellington and couples continue to dance. Eric eventually makes his way over to me and asks the bartender for a bottle of water.

“That was fantastic. You didn’t mention you were a musician?”

“You didn’t mention you were such a great dancer.”

“I’m not really, I think that was mostly Gary.”

“No. You looked amazing out there.”

“Well, I still have one spot left on my dance card. Care to?”

Eric chugs his water and sets the empty bottle on the bar right as “Hit the Road, Jack” by Ray Charles comes on over the speakers. We start off slowly, with a few regular steps, and then Eric spins me out and back in so I’m pressed up against him tightly, tucked under his arm. I look up at him for the briefest of seconds and our breath mingles. This is serious.
I want to bite his lip.
He twirls me out again and then our gazes lock for the rest of the song, each and every precise move we make together only urging my heart to beat faster. He pulls me in for a few close steps, and I swear his lips graze my forehead, causing tingles to travel from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. The moment I think he’s finally going to kiss me, he pushes me away again and spins me out, two twirls in a row.
I want him.
I know I only have one more week on this boat, but good God, I want him more than I’ve probably ever wanted another man in my life.

He brings me back in again to where my back is pulled against his chest and I rub my cheek against his jaw for the couple of seconds we’re pressed together. His grip on my hand tightens once more, and then it’s back out again and a dramatic dip to end the song.

Both of us breathe heavily when he pulls me back up, our chests rising and falling in sync. My eyes zero in on his as I try to communicate my desire to go to his room. I lick my lips for emphasis.
Recognition.
He turns, my hand still in his and walks with purpose out the door.

We keep a brisk pace, fingers interlaced, as we walk without words down the hall. Eric takes a few twists and turns, then down two flights of stairs, and around a corner. He slides his key card in the reader and we enter the dark room.

He moves to turn on the light, but I place my hand on his shoulder before he has the chance, and shake my head at him. Instead, he cracks the bathroom door and turns on the light, so it’s not pitch black and we can see each other.

His hand cups my face as his thumb traces my bottom lip.
This is it.
My chest rises and falls in quick succession with each stunted breath I take. His other hand threads into my hair. He hesitates for two beats before he gently presses his lips to mine. There’s an instant, like before a match ignites and you’re not sure if it’s caught yet, that we both hold our breath as we kiss tenderly. Then his tongue touches my bottom lip, my breath catches and releases into his mouth, and he lets go all restraint, consuming my mouth with his. A little whimper escapes me as his body inches closer to mine, pressing us together. His hands in my hair tilt my head up so he can have his way with my mouth. My hands flatten against his back and then travel up to his shoulders to pull him even closer.

He breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes, searching for something. He must find blatant lust and consent there, because a beat later he lifts me up into his arms and carries me over to his ridiculously small bed, wedged into the corner.

He lays me down, and I immediately pull his shirt open, popping the buttons off in the process. When the shirt hits the floor, I brace myself on my elbows and drink him in as he stands there in a tank, black pants, and rockabilly chain. Sexy as hell. I kick off my heels, sit up, and pull my dress up over my head, leaving me in my bra and panties. He toes off his shoes and socks, unbuckling his belt as I stare, and drops his pants on the floor, leaving him in his tank and boxers. I pull him toward me on the bed and peel his tank off, finally getting an eyeful of his broad chest and the black inked feathers that fan out over his left pect and wrap around his ribcage. Wings.

His fingers gently thread into my hair again as he positions himself between my legs, kissing the daylight out of me. I rake my nails up his sides and around his back. He feels so good. So strong. His mouth is whiskey-sweet. He presses his erection against my center and we groan in unison. I start to push his boxers down with my fingertips and he breaks the kiss to search my eyes.

“Are you sure?”

I unclasp my bra and throw it on the floor as his gaze travels down my chest. “Very.”

He backs up onto his knees and reaches over into his nightstand for a condom while I wiggle out of my panties. I’m completely naked now, caressing my own breasts while I watch him push down his boxers.

Damn, he has a beautiful body. He rolls the condom onto his quite impressive erection and looks over at me, taking in my naked form like he doesn’t know where to start. I guide my hand down my breast to my stomach as he looks on, and then slowly slip my fingers across my center and back up again.

“Fuck.” He pulls my hands away from my body and pins them above my head as he lies on top of me. “You drive me crazy.”

With my most seductive smile in place, I raise my hips to press even firmer against him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

His knees push mine apart to accommodate his hips. He answers by kissing me and entering me at the same time, triggering a groan from me and a shudder from him. He releases my forearms and tucks his hands under my ass while his lips nuzzle my neck. My hands grip his shoulders as he rolls his hips in a perfect rhythm, hitting places deeper than anyone has been in a long time, maybe ever. We fit together perfectly.

My teeth graze the muscle that strains between his shoulder and neck, and he pulls my left leg up into the crook of his elbow. “Oh, Jesus.” My back arches off the bed and he captures my nipple in his mouth, biting down gently.

“You feel so good, Jordan.” His thrusts become rougher, more urgent. He throws the same leg up higher over his shoulder, and good God, I see stars. He’s almost too big for this position, and I hiss as I adjust to his size. He stops moving suddenly, watching my face, I assume to either check if he’s hurting me or to prevent himself from cumming. He pulls back and slips out of me. Kneeling on the bed, he adjusts the condom, making sure it’s still securely in place.

“Come here.” He crooks his finger at me and I sit up onto my knees to join him at eye-level. “Turn around on your knees and put your hands up against the wall by the head of the bed.” His voice is like silk, and I immediately comply, trembling with anticipation. “Spread your hands and your knees apart a little wider.”

A hand runs down my back from my shoulder blades to curve around my ass. His fingers grip my left hip and pull me back toward him as my hands slide down the wall until he pushes up inside me. A shot of pleasure zings through me as his other hand reaches around a moment later to rub my clit with his beautifully skilled fingers. “Oh yes.” I’m not normally a talker, pretty quiet during sex, but I’m grunting and groaning more than I ever have as he enters and fondles me at the same time.

We find a good rhythm, and then one of my arms comes off the wall to grip him around the neck behind me. Enjoying the sensation of him filling me so completely, I reach the precipice and fall over the moment his teeth nibble the tendon in my neck. As I jerk wildly in his arms, his hand releases my hip. His fingers release my clit, and then both of his arms come around my waist to pull me tight against him. Four more thrusts, and right as I start to come down from my orgasm, he finds his release, holding me in a vise. I turn my head to kiss him, and our tongues twine together in a kiss that borders on hedonistic. Tasting, sucking, I want more. So much more of this.

Chapter Nine

H
eat and a lack of oxygen wake me in the morning. I throw the blankets off us, or what I can reach of them. Eric has a twin bed. Twin. I don’t know how he fits in alone. After a night of sex, sex, and more sex, we passed out, exhausted, Eric on his back and me on his chest. There was no way we fit side by side. Somehow in the middle of the night, we switched and I’m on my back now with this heavy, sweaty—so skilled in bed it makes me wonder exactly how many women he’s actually been with—man whose head lies on my chest while his legs, from the knees down, hang off the end of the bed.

I attempt to push on his shoulders, but get nowhere. “Eric? Wake up. I can’t breathe. Eric?” There’s a moment where I imagine he’s died and I start to panic, which is ridiculous because I can hear him breathing through his mouth. “Eric!”

“Huh? What?” His head lifts off my chest, his eyes scrunched closed, hair smushed down on one side. One eye opens for a brief moment. He smiles, closes his eyes again and snuggles back into my chest, wrapping his arms around my waist. “You feel so good.”

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