Page 49 of Fire

He quietly exits. The curtain draws shut and then…we are alone.

I can still hear the deep, pulsing rhythm of the club music, but in here, it’s muted. It seems to be at just the right volumeto allow conversation while also providing a blanket of privacy from those around us.

We both find our way to the sofa, and I look up to find Hendrix staring at me.

“Do you want any champagne?” he asks. “Or I can call back Lurch and get you something else.”

I snort out a laugh. “Did you just call him Lurch? Like from the Addams Family?”

“He’s certainly built like him, and seriously, what was that guy’s last job? Guard at Buckingham Palace? He didn’t crack a single smile.”

“Well, can you blame him? Look at what he does all night. Waiting on a bunch of entitled assholes while they do all sorts of kinky things in these little sin bins, and he stands out there keeping watch. I’d be a sourpuss too.”

Hendrix blanches a little. “You don’t think that’s why I brought you here, do you? I mean, that is what most people do. You’re right. But I just wanted to get you off that dance floor and away from—” His breath shudders.

“No, I didn’t think that.” I did, sort of. “And you’re right. I did need a breather after—” My voice trails off.

“What happened?” he asks. “Where did Darius go? Did he ditch you?”

Now, this part will be difficult to explain. I chew on my bottom lip, trying to find the right words. “Not exactly, no.”

“What exactly does that mean? Because one minute he was all over you—” He stops mid-sentence, as if he can barely stomach the words coming out of his mouth. “And the next, he’s over by the bar surrounded by a bunch of women.”

“When did you?—”

“Just before we walked off the dance floor, I looked over and there he was, completely oblivious to what had just happened to you.”

“It’s not his fault,” I explain, quickly continuing before he can argue. “He saw you at the top of the stairs. He knew you were coming.”

“So he did ditch you, then?”

“No.” I let out a sigh. I am not explaining this well. Mostly because I don’t want to explain it at all. I was sort of hoping there would be no words involved. Just some dirty dancing that might lead to perhaps something even dirtier in a dark corner or an empty supply closet. That happens outside of romance novels, right? “He was trying to make you jealous. For me.”

“For…you?”

I give a slow nod as he stares at me intently. “I wanted to make you jealous.”

“Why?”

I throw up my hands. “I don’t know,” I tell him. “Nothing I do when I’m around you makes any sense. Do you know how many one-night stands I’ve had? One. The occasional fuck buddy in college, sure. But I’ve never been spontaneous enough to throw caution to the wind like that. And now here I am in a swanky nightclub while touring the country with a?—”

He silences me with a kiss.

I gasp in surprise at the feel of his lips on mine, but before I have a chance to react, he’s pulling back. “Is this okay? I should have asked first.”

“Yes!” I grip the front of his shirt and yank him closer. “God, yes.”

He lets out a brief chuckle just before his mouth slams against mine, and shit. I forgot what it’s like to kiss Hendrick Creed. Some men see kissing as a stepping stone to the main event. But not him. Not Hendrix. For him, kissing is a full-body experience. And you had better be ready because this man likes to take his time.

He kisses me until my lips feel swollen. Until I’m breathless and my heart is pounding wildly in my chest. He kisses me like I’m his last dying wish, and when he leaves this world, all he wants is the taste of my lips on his.

One hand grips the back of my neck, while the other curves around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. My sequin skirt rides all the way up. Never breaking our kiss, he starts to explore my body. He drags the tips of his fingers over my thighs and then slips them under my skirt to cup my ass. He stills.

Slightly breathless, he asks, “Are you not wearing any underwear?”

“Lace thong.”

I feel his fingers find the edge of the delicate lace, and I watch his eyes darken. “I want to rip these off you and stuff them in my pocket as a souvenir.”