Rosewood Romances Series: A Sweet & Steamy Short Story Romance

by Amelia Star

  Sean’s arms wrap around my drenched raincoat. We madly explore each other’s mouths, our tongues tasting, mapping the terrain of the other, learning the deep and satisfying flavor of our passion. How long has it been for me? If it’s been as long for Sean as it’s been for me, that would explain our desperate, overwhelming – even violent need. As if we’re going to devour each other alive.

  Kaboom.

  A powerful boom of thunder sends vibrations through the truck, shocking me out of my lustful frenzy. The reverberations of the storm pulls us apart.

  “Oh, Sean. I—” I glance at him, then look away. “I don’t know what came over me. We don’t know anything about each other. It’s just the craziness of – of this whole situation.”

  Sean watches my hands as I reach in my pocket again for some lip gloss. “Sarah,” he whispers, trying to get my attention. I pretend to ignore him as I stroke the lip gloss over my lips. “Sarah.” He takes my hands again. “It might have something to do with how you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  Kaboom.

  I try to get back to my normal, sassy self. “Well, Mr. Sexy, guess what. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anyone so delicious as you. But –”

  Sean senses the hesitation in my voice. And this is when I start falling for him. Only a gentleman would pick up on such a subtle cue from a woman. He lets go of my hands.

  “I understand,” he says. He puts his hands on the wheel and shifts out of gear. “We’ll just let that wash out in the rain.” He pauses, backing up carefully. Could he actually be the real-thing, a man of honor? The idea of a man like that turns me on like nothing else.

  But I’ve been fooled before. Just because he seems like a good guy, doesn’t mean he actually is one. Well, if we’re working together with the kids, I’ll have a chance to find out either way.

  “Let’s get to the community center.” He pulls out of the parking lot, and drives down the gray road, colorless crumbling buildings on either side of us. I notice his hands are shaking. With nerves or desire? Still, he’s trying to take a jocular, friendly tone. “You must be the new yoga and meditation instructor.”

  “Was it the power kick or the spandex that gave me away?”

  He laughs and replies, “Oh, I’m a real detective, don’t you know?”

  “Yes, I think you are.” Laughing, I watch the rain streaming down the window, slowing to a trickle as we travel further from the strip joint.

  THREE – SEAN

  Pulling into the center, I can tell Sarah is having second thoughts about being here. If the fiasco at the strip club wasn’t enough, the drive through Hickman Mills may have tipped the scales in frightening her away for good. Sarah might be a badass, but even a woman like her could hesitate at the shuttered and boarded-up businesses along the main road and the lack of trees or flowers anywhere. Random shootings take place often enough as it is in these neighborhoods, even without the sight of a big black man driving a beautiful sexy blonde around with him.

  At least I brought the pickup today, and left my Lexus at home. I try to remember to bring the rundown looking vehicle when coming to this side of the river. It’s just the wise choice to make.

  Sarah has a smile on her face as she gets out of the pickup. Until she sees the boys. A concerned look makes her blue eyes turn to a shade of gray. “Are they okay?”

  Two skinny black boys, the ones I know are the leaders in any activity with the kids, look up from where they are playing around the side of the building. In the now drizzling rain. And, yes, the mud. “Robert! Franklin!” I shout. “What are you doing playing in the creek? How many times have you been told to stay out of there?”

  The boys don’t listen to me. Typical. Neither do the other boys, who form a circle around a pile of sticks. It looks like they attempted to build a small fort, kind of.

  It’s obvious when they notice Sarah because they run towards us.

  Fortunately, it doesn’t appear to have been raining as hard on this side of town as it was near the club. As the boys run toward us – or, rather, toward Sarah – I can see that we should be able to get them cleaned up so that Sarah can hold a class before their parents arrive. I wish they had grass and a safe yard to play in. Then they could play outside without getting muddy and messing up their clothes.

  “Sean! Who’s this?”

  “Is this your girlfriend, Sean?”

  “Is Sean getting married?”

  Sarah looks at the boys, and at me, and blushes for a brief moment – then laughs. “If Sean’s getting married, it’s not to me.” She looks at me, with a questioning look.

  “Hey, boys, you know I don’t have a girlfriend anymore.” My cheeks heat at the admission.

  But the boys go on jostling each other around, punching each other under the patter of the light rain, chanting and making smoochy sounds, “Sean’s got a girlfriend, Sean’s got a girlfriend….”

  “Hey, are you trying to scare your new yoga and meditation teacher away?”

  “Oh! She’s the new teacher?”

  “Yes, this is Sarah.”

  The boys crowd around the blonde goddess in their midst shouting questions. “Where did you meet Sean?”

  I’m trying to move them forward towards the door when Ted comes out.

  Black and tall like me, he’s in his man-style apron and latex gloves. He waves a long wooden spoon in the air. “Boys! I told you to get in here ten minutes ago!” Then he notices Sarah. He gives me a quick glance, as if to say he understands why I’m late. “Oh, I see! It’s the new instructor! Well, get in here for class, so you can have your dinner before your parents come.”

  The boys rush forward, at the mention of a meal, and flood through the door into the community center.

  “Dang, you boys are one heck of a mess – take off your shoes! And get to the washroom to clean up…!” I hear Ted demand.

  I want to take Sarah by the elbow and escort her to the door, but I hesitate. All I can think about is that kiss – that insanely delicious kiss in the parking lot back at the club. And that kick she dealt the too-forward goon. Now, I have a few moments to really see her. She runs through the rain in front of me – Lord help me, she’s so beautiful, and strong. She’s small, but I can tell every inch of her is pure lean muscle.

  I hadn’t thought about marriage in years until the boys mentioned it. But with a woman like Sarah, it seems like it could be a possibility.

  A few minutes later, in the main activity room, I introduce Sarah to the girls. Smart as always, they stayed inside to color while the boys went out in the rain and mud.

  “Sarah,” Leslie pipes up, never one to be shy. “Are you a princess?”

  “Of course,” Sarah says. “And so are you! Come on, beautiful princesses, let’s roll out the yoga mats and start meditating!”

  “What’s meditation?”

  “Are we going to take a nap?”

  “Do we need to take off our shoes?”

  The girls barrage Sarah with questions.

  “Ted and I are going to clean up the boys – you got this for now?” I ask.

  Sarah smiles and nods, then goes back to helping the girls, answering their questions, and rolling out the mats in an orderly way.

  I give Sarah another questioning look, to which she smiles confidently.

  Ted and I coral the boys into the washroom, where for the next twenty minutes, Ted and I work on getting them cleaned up

  “Where’s Serena?” I ask Ted.

  “She couldn’t make it in today – some kind of family emergency.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope.” I look at him.

  “Nothing Serena can’t handle,” he replies while trying to clean the mud off Tommy’s jeans with nothing but a handful of wet paper towels.

  “Okay.” I trust Ted, and I trust Serena even more.

  “What about the yoga instructor?” Ted asks. “I thought she was coming with a partner. How’d you end up bringing her here?”

&
nbsp; “Long story,” I say, raising an eyebrow defensively. “You know it’s not safe for a pretty woman like her to drive here by herself.”

  “Hmmmm.” Ted turns Tommy around by the shoulders. “Hey, soldier boy, you’re all spiffed up and ready to go. You can march on out and join the girls now.”

  Tommy smiles and rushes out the washroom door.

  Eventually, we get the last boy taken care of and presentable for his parents.

  I’d been anxious about leaving Sarah with the girls. But when Ted and I step out of the washroom door, what I find is not the usual uproarious laughter and tumbling about. Rather, the kids have pulled out the thin exercise mats – one of the donations made in order to get this yoga and meditation program going at the center.

  The kids sit cross-legged, in serene rows with their eyes closed and their hands on their knees. Sarah walks between the rows, adjusting their posture, and talking to them in soothing tones.

  “Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four,” she repeats slowly and moves to the next child. “I saw you opening your eyes – Leslie, right? I know it’s hard at first, but try to keep them closed….”

  Sarah moves between the children. They’re like putty in her hands. Before my very eyes, she turns them into little angels.

  From the kitchen doorway, Ted looks at me with his mouth slightly agape. His face reminds me of the expression of the men in the club after Sarah did the flip off the table.

  “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing, or is this some kind of hallucination?” he asks.

  “Oh, I think we’re seeing the real thing.” I put my hands on my hips, watching the miracle unfold before me.

  “Well, I need to get into the kitchen and finish the gruel,” Ted remarks.

  “That bad?” I ask. Our supplies for meals are miserable. I’ve been hoping to make improvements. That’s another one of the things the meeting with the investors from out-of-town was about. So much for that donation. Back to the drawing board, for now.

  Ted grimaces and disappears into the kitchen. I decide to roll out a mat and join the kids. I sit at the back of the room and try to cross my legs. I’m not as limber as the kids, or I imagine, as Sarah surely is. Cross-training works for strength building, but fails somewhat at developing flexibility.

  It’s harder than it looks to sit up straight, cross-legged, with hands on my knees and eyes closed all at the same time. The kids make it look so easy. Unexpectedly, within moments I feel Sarah’s gentle touch on my shoulders, adjusting my posture while she counts, “Breathe in, two, three, four….” I’m tempted to reach out and touch her in return, to delicately run my hands over her body, to feel the way she is shaped with my eyes closed. I want to learn everything about who she is.

  Sarah moves on, and I’m unable to hold the pose any longer. Stretching my legs out in front of me, I lean back on the mat to watch her. She’s incredible. Everything I thought I’d never find in a woman. Strong and yet so gentle with these children. Plus, her figure in that spandex, her soft lips, and vibrant energy.

  She’s almost too good to be real. I have my doubts. When I was younger, my mother put my sister and me in boarding schools. As a single mother, it must have been a tough choice to make, to send us away so she could earn a good living. But that doesn’t change the fact that she only came to see us every other weekend.

  Her actions had consequences. Ever since those days of being starved for love, starved for the gentle touch, the comforting hugs of my mother – I’ve been hesitant to take a chance on a woman who might care more about her career than for me.

  I want to have it all with Sarah. She’s worth the risk to my heart. At least, I hope so.

  Ted comes out of the kitchen at that moment. He signals me it’s time to eat.

  Practically tiptoeing, I make my way over to Sarah. Ted tries to stop himself from laughing. I’m sure I look silly, a big powerful man trying to move so delicately.

  When I reach Sarah, she senses me behind her and turns and smiles. “Time for dinner?” she asks.

  Her question signals the end of the meditation.

  But my heart hopes that the evening – and our life together – has only just begun.

  FOUR – SARAH

  Waking up before the alarm clock goes off, I try to remember what day it is. The original schedule had me going to the Rosewood Center on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons. But I added more days. The kids are so sweet. And, well, who am I kidding – the director of the afterschool program is another big part of what’s keeping me facing the danger more than three times a week.

  Something Ted told me about Sean contributes to my happy mood. Apparently, Sean used to only come by Rosewood once a week since he’s usually running programs at community centers all over St. Louis. But since I’ve been coming to Rosewood, Sean has been joining me.

  “That’s just because he’s driving me here, until I hire another assistant to ride with me,” I explained to Ted while Sean was talking to some of the parents after yoga and meditation class. I have a car. And I may be a badass woman who can defend herself, but I also know there’s strength in numbers. I don’t want to drive by myself to Rosewood unless I absolutely have to.

  “Sure, he’s driving you here. But he could have found someone to do that for him. I think there’s another reason he’s taken the job of getting you here safely. He stays with you for classes. Then he has to drive thirty minutes in the other direction after returning you home.” Ted raises his eyebrows to emphasize his point. “That’s a lot of driving for one man to be doing just to get a lady here to teach some yoga and meditation classes to some kids. I can’t remember when I’ve known him to put such a dent in his busy schedule for one person – or, should I say, one woman.”

  One woman. The thought excites me. Sean won’t be here to pick me up for a few hours. With all this energy to spare, I should work out.

  I put on my magenta unitard, pull my hair back in a ponytail, and select a long sapphire silk scarf. Conveniently, my apartment is above my studio. After getting dressed, I head downstairs through the mess of my studio renovation. Right now, the classes are on an interim schedule until I can find a new assistant and finish remodeling the space.

  Through the wall of windows, the gray day is looming. It stopped pouring at the moment, but the forecast predicts rain for another week. The weather adds to the atmosphere. When I dance, I don’t need to roll out any mats. This time, I have to push aside the worker’s paint cans and ladders so there is space for me to move. Once that’s done, I turn up my music and do a few warm-up poses.

  A few minutes after I begin, the song on the sound system changes. The low moans of the mantras are almost eerie with their Eastern musical tones. The power surges up through me and I move as if inspired by forces beyond this world. It’s magic. It’s something I’ve been doing since I was a child, and it’s the reason I devoted my life to yoga and meditation.

  My scarf wraps and flows around me. My leg lifts high and close to my face. Then I bow over it until it comes to the floor in front of me. I slide into a split, then roll onto my back and twirl the scarf about. My legs swoosh around and I arch back into pigeon pose, my hips in the air and the top of my head touching the floor. I stand up and keep going – twirling the scarf in every direction, spinning all the way around the studio.

  That’s when, out of the corner of my eye, I see Sean. He stands outside, leaning against his pickup truck, looking in through the plate glass windows. He’s wearing jeans and a button-down shirt.

  He looks on edge. And sexy.

  Under the dark sky, his black skin looks like pure ebony, and his dark eyes twinkle in narrowed slits. A different kind of warmth overtake my body – more than the warmth that comes from exercise. His gaze excites me.

  I hope he’s enjoying the show.

  I finish it off with an aerial cartwheel, just for the extra wow factor, and stretch my arms out to my sides, head held back, chest lif
ted, imagining how I would salute the sky above if dancing under the moon. The song fades into bliss.

  My whole body tingles. As always, I’m high after dancing. This energy radiates from me, and I can feel it pulling Sean in. Already, I feel hot and ready, so when the bells on the door ring, I turn to him with a hungry smile.

  “Sarah.” Sean’s low voice comes from his core. Hunger resonates through that one word. My name is the magic word. All he needs to do is ask and I will be his.

  Memories of that crazy kiss in the parking lot roll through my mind, tempting and seductive. They’ve been distracting me all week. I haven’t been able to get it or him out of my mind – and I am ready to be distracted again.

  “That was beautiful,” Sean says. “I’ve never seen anyone move like that. Where did you learn to dance?”

  “Oh.” I smile and flutter my scarf around, as if to brush away the feelings of desire overwhelming me. “I’ve been doing this all my life. It’s what I do.”

  “Teach me?” Sean says, laughing a little.

  “You’re already learning – we’ll have class at the center when we get there. I love seeing you participate with the kids.” I turn off the music.

  When I turn around from the sound system cabinet, there he is close behind me. I want to be with Sean, to hear his resonating voice, to hear each deep and passionate breath he makes.

  “Wrap that scarf around me, Sarah. Every twirling motion you make, every turn around the room you take, you weave a spell around me. You spin your magic around my heart. Ever since I saw you with the kids. I can’t get you out of my mind – ”

  “Oh, Sean –”

  He leans in then, and this time there’s no crashing thunder. Only the crashing of my heart as I fall into the taste of his darkness, his ebony soul, deep floodwaters washing over me. We kiss, but it’s not enough. This time, I want it all. My mind shuts down as he kisses my face, my neck, the sensitive skin behind my ears.

  Wrapping my sapphire scarf around the body of this man I’m coming to love, I pull him in as close to me as I can. When the urgency and passion begin to overtake us, I lead him upstairs to my apartment.