Page 16 of Between Passion and Revenge, Part One (The Griot Chronicles #1)

STORM

L ife is really fuckin’ funny. That’s the only way to rationalize how, twenty minutes ago, I was about to have a body-stealing panic attack, and now I’m inches from Shae Rivers, ready to claim the mouth that’s featured in entirely too many fantasies over the month since she crashed into my life.

Our minty breaths mingle, and despite the darkness, I track the rise and fall of her heavy breasts trapped beneath her tank top.

God, I want to caress them with my palms. I want to slide my dick between them—my dick which is as hard as a baseball bat at the moment.

I want Shae Rivers.

Fuck, I want her over and over and?—

“I’m sor?—”

The two words cause the last thread of my sanity to snap, and when I inhale, the taste of her lips connects with my breath.

Everything explodes, casting pieces of my focus and priorities and control all over the floor of this goddamn elevator.

“Shae,” I grind out, the sound delivered on a groan. She merges into all of my senses, taking over the place where anxiety—my weaknesses—tried to take over my body.

All there is begins and ends with Shae.

She moans and pulls me closer to her with her fists tangled in my polo.

Stop this. Stop, Sandoval.

I try to pull myself away, to bring space between us so I can fit back into the Storm-sized slot I’ve created for myself in this thing called life, but then, she whimpers.

What must be generations of Sandoval men send commands from the spirit realm directly to my nervous system, because with unfamiliar intensity, I growl, “Fuck it.”

I pull her up in one smooth movement and pin her to the side of the car. Her hands are back on me then, as much the aggressor in this as I am, and I lift her leg around my hip. I want to shout as the feeling of her heat through the layers of her long skirt presses flush against my hard-on.

Fuck. I’m in over my head.

“Sweet. You’re so sweet, Shae,” I grind out, pressing kisses to her neck. I want to suck, to mark her—something I’ve never done before. I’ve never wanted to.

“Fuck, I want this man,” she slurs.

“I want you too, Shae,” I reply. I’m not even sure she knows what she just said.

This. You want this.

My hands go to her hips and then her thigh, bunching at the fabric and pulling it up, up, up when the lights flood the elevator, followed by a loud hum and grinding noise.

We pull back from each other, both blinking rapidly, when the car jolts.

“I…” Shae’s mouth opens and closes once before she swallows, and neither of us moves. Our bottom halves still press together, heat radiating between our bodies.

“Shae,” I say, just as much at a loss for words as she seems to be. But the sound of my voice must shake her because one moment we’re holding each other in our cocoon, and the next I’m on my ass, having tripped over her canvas tote bag.

“Shae?” I ask after the shock wears off, but the doors slide open, and she’s gone before I can even stand.

A small crowd circles the lobby of the econ building, all waiting for the elevator or just being nosey. Kurt, the last person I want to see, is the first face that greets me when my senses return and I finally get up from the floor.

“What happened?” he asks, peering into the cab and taking in my and Shae’s things on the floor. Protectiveness has me gathering her bag and forgotten Nalgene in one arm and my backpack in the other.

“Hell if I know,” I reply to Kurt, pushing past him but unsure where the hell to go.

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Riale barks as I deliver one more hit to the side of his jaw. He takes my attacks well, as he usually does, but tonight I’m on edge.

Hell, I might even be careening down the side of the mountain, way past the edge.

“Nothing. No one,” I grind out, my voice hoarse. Riale and I are both shirtless and drenched in sweat. I go to one corner of the ring, and he goes to the opposing side. The sharp rip of Velcro as we drop our gloves sounds particularly loud in the dark, isolated, underground gym.

We both guzzle down water and try to breathe past our exertion.

Riale clears his throat and slaps the cap on his bottle.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the extra cardio, clearly something is up with you. Seeing as you’re trying to kill me tonight.”

I smirk after I put my bottle in the corner.

“I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” I offer, stalking around the ring to slowly bring my heart rate down.

“That may be true, but I call bullshit,” Riale throws back. He reclines against the ropes and crosses his legs at the ankles.

“Come on,” he drawls, “tell Big Brother what’s happening in Storm World.”

I roll my eyes and stretch my arms straight above my head before folding them to rest on my sweaty hair.

“There’s really nothing new to tell. You know about the shit with Stratos and my dad.” I shrug. “That’s it.”

Riale eyes me down.

“Quit playing. Start talking.” His voice is serious, all playfulness gone like vapor.

“Damn, nigga! You can’t just let me breathe? Fuck ,” I shout, still walking in circles.

Walking in circles. If that ain’t a damn good metaphor.

“Some girl giving you problems? She’s not saying she’s got a baby by you, is she? How many times have I told you to wrap that shit up? Damn it, Stor?—”

“There’s no baby and there’s no girl,” I snap. In Riale’s silence, I finally stop stepping around and turn to look at him. He stares at me with his head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowed.

Pensive.

“ Naaaah, this is definitely some girl drama. Who is it?”

I groan toward the ceiling. He’s really not gonna let this go until I’m talking about my feelings like we’re on a damn episode of Dr.Phil .

“Is it Bambi?” he asks. My head snaps down, and I give him a stank face.

“Bambi?”

He shrugs.

“No.It’s not anything to do with Bambi.”

Even though she’s been calling me more and more lately. I’ve texted her a few times, but the reality is I have so much going on in my life right now, I don’t have time to coddle her.

She has other friends. It’s time she leaned on them.

I release a deep breath. “You know how I told you I was stuck in an elevator earlier?”

His face shifts, understanding coming off him in waves so strong I want to punch him.

“Did you have another panic attack? I keep telling you that keeping at least a few Xanax on you is a good idea. The doctor wouldn’t have prescribed them if they weren’t needed, Storm.”

Even though he’s right about that, I shake my head.

“No, it’s not that. Well, not just that.” I scratch the back of my head. “I wasn’t alone in the elevator. I was there with my classmate, Shae.”

He gives me a narrowed-eyed look for several seconds before his mouth twists in a broad smile.

“So it is a girl. And from the sounds of it, you’re a little sweet on her.”

“Wow. Wow, ” I throw over my shoulder as I head for the towel hanging in the corner and make quick work of drying my head, neck, and chest.

“Wow is right,” he says, his voice getting louder as he leans into the ribbing. “Who would have thought that lil’ Storm would have a crush on a girl.”

I suck my teeth. “Man, if you don’t get the fuck outta here with all that bullshit.”

I don’t know why I’m pushing back on this so much. I do have a crush on Shae. In fact, I probably have a little more than a crush and somewhere a fraction south of infatuation.

She’s exactly the type of woman I want. She’s strong, bold, smart as fuck, and goddamn she’s so fucking sexy. And when she grows into who she’s destined to be?

She’ll be in a whole different universe.

But I think that’s why I’m hesitant to tell Riale about her and how I feel. Because I know she’s like lightning in a bottle.

Impossible to contain…and I would never want to hold her back.

“We’re working together on a project,” I say, “and there’s definitely some tension there. But I doubt it’s gonna go any further than that.”

Riale looks a fraction less amused.

“On your end or hers?”

I think about that for a second. “I don’t know.”

Something on my face must alert Riale that he’s hit the end of my tolerance, and he changes the subject.

“Lakeland’s been moving funny,” he says.

“And the Pope is Catholic,” I shoot back.

Riale doesn’t laugh. Instead, he grabs his water bottle, swirling it around like he’s trying to work out how to tell me something.

“Storm. I’m serious. I heard something. Quiet, but credible.”

My eyes snap to his.

“What kind of something?”

He shrugs, but it’s forced. “He’s having meetings. Off-books. Not at the office. Word is he’s bringing in outside consultants.”

I narrow my eyes. “For Stratos?”

Riale nods. “Maybe for something bigger. Maybe for something dirtier. But he’s planning something. And he’s doing it fast.”

My pulse ticks harder.

First, he’s handed the company. Now he’s cleaning house?

I stare at the spot on the floor where my gloves landed. I should be relieved the kiss with Shae didn’t derail my focus.

But all it did was wake something up.

This war isn’t just coming. It’s already started.