A Malibu Kind of Romance

by Synithia Williams

  A tremble of fear and disgust racked her body. No. This could not be happening. “No!” She tried to yell, but again her voice came out sluggish and slow.

  “Yes,” he said in a louder voice. “You can’t drive like this. I insist.” He dragged her to the door, and she was too sick to stop him.

  The room spun faster; then the weight of Carlos’s body was gone. Julie slumped against the wall. Loud, angry male voices rang out to her left. Her head felt as heavy as a bowling ball, but she managed to drag it up. Dante was in Carlos’s face. In slow motion, she watched Dante’s arm pull back, then forward. His fist landed on the side of Carlos’s face. Julie’s eyes would have widened if they didn’t feel like thick velvet curtains.

  The room continued to spin, and the edges of her vision blackened. Her stomach pitched and rolled. Saliva filled her mouth. She was going to be sick. She slid down the wall. Strong arms swooped her up. No, too fast. She sucked in a breath. Dante. She’d recognize his scent anywhere. Her heart rate slowed. For a second, she felt safe, before throwing up the drink and everything else she’d had that night.

  Chapter 13

  What happened last night?

  The words hit Julie’s brain before a splitting headache took hold. She squinted her eyes even though her room was dark and slowly rose to a seated position. Her mouth felt like dirty cotton and tasted worse than that. Pushing back the plush covers, she eased her legs over the side of a bed.

  Two blinks later, her vision cleared and several things became apparent at once. (A) She was not in her hotel room; (B) she was naked except for a sleeveless T-shirt; (C) the shirt did not belong to her.

  Running her fingers through her short hair, she looked around the room. There was a humongous bed covered in rich, royal blue sheets, dark masculine furnishings, a colossal flat-screen television along one wall hooked up to a gaming system, platinum records on another. The last wall was nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows dimmed to an opaque that she was sure turned clear with a push of a button to provide a view of the ocean. Even without the decor, she would have known she was in Dante’s bedroom. The sheets smelled like him, seductive and inviting, and after spending the night in his bed, she smelled like him.

  A bottle of water and ibuprofen were next to each other on the nightstand with a note that read, “You’ll need this.”

  “What did I do?” she murmured to herself. She grabbed both and downed three pills and half the bottle of water. She paused to take a physical check of herself. She didn’t feel like she’d spent the night having sex. She just felt hungover. The inside of her elbow was sore. She glanced down at the Band-Aid there. When she pulled it off there was no sign of an injury. Add that to the list of mysteries. Her stomach growled, and she was hungry.

  She stood quickly. Her stomach rolled; her head spun. She took a deep breath and both cleared. Okay, maybe too much to drink. She glanced around the room. No sign of her clothes. If she’d come to bed with Dante after drinking too much, she would expect to see her clothes strewn over the floor in a haphazard attempt to get them off.

  Where in the world is Dante?

  She went into what she guessed was the bathroom and sighed with relief at the sight of the enormous gray marble shower and bathtub. The time to worry about what she’d done the night before could wait. She stripped off the shirt and got into the large shower. While she washed away the grogginess, she tried to remember how she’d ended up in his bed. Antwan had been there. Dante was thoroughly enjoying the sexy sisters eager to please him. Shouldn’t they be in his bed? She dropped the soap.

  For the life of her, she hoped her inhibitions hadn’t dropped that much the night before!

  Picking up the soap, she finished her shower. No matter how hard she pushed her brain, the only thing she remembered was sitting at the bar, saluting Dante after his performance and then having a brief conversation with Carlos. Hadn’t she told him she was leaving? If so, why was she here?

  Only one way to know. Find Dante.

  She got out of the shower. Thankfully, there was toothbrush still in the package inside one of the multitude of drawers surrounding the sink. She wrapped a towel around herself and searched for her clothes. When she still couldn’t find them, Julie said to hell with it and went into Dante’s closet. The closet was the size of a mini-boutique and set up like one, too. There were cushioned stools, a wall of various loafers and sneakers and all of Dante’s clothes lined up neatly on racks behind glass doors. She opted for a black T-shirt and, since his pants would be too long, a pair of starched white boxers.

  “If we slept together, then I might as well get over feeling guilty for wearing his clothes.”

  Julie left his bedroom and stopped. Half a dozen people were upstairs cleaning up the mess from the previous night. The movement of so many people was a surprise compared with the absolute silence in Dante’s bedroom. She gave them tight nods, then hurried downstairs, where another half dozen were cleaning. A woman sweeping up broken glass at the foot of the stairs glanced up at Julie and smiled.

  Julie cleared her throat and tugged on the bottom of the T-shirt, which covered the boxers. Great, she had to do the walk of shame in front of the entire cleaning crew. “Is Dante around?”

  The woman shook her head. “You must be Julie. Dante had to go out for an appointment, but he asked that you stick around until he gets back. He wants to make sure you’re okay.”

  Why wouldn’t she be okay? Maybe because you woke up in his bed and don’t know how you got there. Exactly why she wouldn’t leave until she found out the hows and whys of last night.

  “Thank you,” she said to the lady as she made her way to the kitchen.

  Sunlight streamed through the large windows and gleamed brightly off the white marble countertops. Julie almost felt bad for pulling out items to make a sandwich in the middle of the cleaning efforts, but her growling stomach couldn’t be ignored. She quickly put together a sandwich, then searched for someplace to hide until Dante returned, someplace other than his bedroom.

  The only room where there wasn’t any cleaning going on was in his home theater. Setting her food on one of the plush seats, which was more like a couch than anything, Julie searched for something to watch in the media tower next to the large screen.

  “Musicals,” she said with delight. As a fan of classic movie musicals, she was pleasantly surprised by his choices. She slipped in one of her favorites, Singin’ in the Rain. After another five minutes of figuring out the blasted player and sound system, Julie settled in.

  She was almost halfway through the movie, at the scene where Gene Kelley did his famous dance routine in the rain, when the door to the theater opened and Dante walked in. She took one look at him and gasped. His right eye was blackened and his jaw was bruised. Julie jumped up from her seat and rushed over.

  “What happened?” She placed her hands on his cheeks and turned his head to get a better look. “Who hit you?”

  He took her hands in his and lowered them, concern filling his eyes. “Forget about me—how are you? Do you need me to call a doctor?”

  Julie frowned. “Doctor? For what? You’re the one with the black eye.”

  “You don’t remember what happened?”

  “Did I do that to you?”

  The concern in his face gave way to a small grin. “I think you did want to hit me at one point last night, but you didn’t do this.”

  “Then who did?”

  Dante’s nostrils flared. His hands clenched hers almost painfully. “Carlos.”

  Julie twisted her hands until his grip loosened, but he didn’t let her go. “Carlos? Why?”

  “He didn’t like it when I stopped him from taking you away from the party. I thought I saw him slip something into your drink, but I couldn’t be sure from where I was on the stage. When you walked to the door and stumbled, I knew
I wasn’t mistaken. He was practically dragging you to the door, pretending as if you were drunk and as if he was being a Good Samaritan by driving you home.”

  Julie’s headache and sick stomach had settled after the ibuprofen and food, but a nauseating feeling twisted her midsection. They’d been talking, and his hand had moved her glass. She’d thought that was weird...then she could barely remember going to the door.

  Her eyes rose to Dante. “He drugged me?” Anger hardened her voice. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “He’s already been taken care of.” Her brows rose, and he shook his head. “No one killed him, but between me, S.A.F. and Antwan, he got the shit beat out of him before we called the police. I had to meet with my publicist this morning to handle damage control. I’d invited several reporters and music bloggers to the party to hear my new music. Carlos’s stunt, and the subsequent fight, obviously overshadowed everything at the party.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. What happened wasn’t your fault, and I don’t regret the fallout.” He brushed her short bangs to the side and ran his fingers down her face. The tenderness in his eyes started a yearning deep in her chest.

  “How did I end up nearly naked in your bed?”

  Dante dropped his hands and grimaced. “You were falling, so I picked you up. I think too fast because you threw up.”

  Julie pressed her face into her hands. “Eww!”

  “Tell me about it,” he said with a laugh. “I took you to my room. Esha cleaned you up and put you to bed. She sat with you while the doctor checked you out. He drew your blood. The police will need to test it for the drug to have a case against Carlos.”

  She touched her arm where the Band-Aid had been. Mystery solved. “You called a doctor?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay. My doctor lives nearby. If I would have shown up at the hospital with you it would have been a media circus. After I threw everybody out and dealt with the police, I came up and watched you all night.”

  Julie lowered her hands to stare at him. “You stayed with me all night? Why?”

  “I was pretty sure whatever he gave you would just knock you out, but I didn’t want you to get sick again and no one be there.”

  He said the words as if fighting for her honor, calling a doctor and keeping vigil at her bedside was the most natural thing. Briefly she considered a life where Dante was the man who always looked out for her, protected her and stayed beside her all night. She liked the idea.

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Sex was always her choice and never entered into lightly. Before taking any guy to bed, she weighed all the consequences. After being played for a fool, she’d taken control of her dating life, her heart, her emotions and her body. In the blink of an eye, Carlos had almost stolen that from her—a blow she wasn’t sure how she would have recovered from.

  Trembles racked her body, tears burned her eyes and thoughts of what could have happened carved their way in vivid and bitter detail through her brain. Blinking rapidly to stop herself from crying about what might have been, Julie met Dante’s eyes. “Thank you so much.” Her voice cracked.

  Dante cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. Concern filled his dark eyes again, and she saw some of the same fear she felt. If he hadn’t seen what Carlos had done...if he hadn’t followed her to the door...

  “Julie, I had no idea what he was capable of. He almost...” His hands on her face tensed, and his eyes burned with focus. “If he would have hurt you, I would have killed him. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Maybe it was the fierce intensity in his eyes, the protectiveness in his voice or the fact that he’d been her own personal superhero the night before, but Julie wanted nothing more than to have Dante’s body against hers. No analyzing the consequences, no thoughts of tomorrow or what any of this meant. Just the ability to do something she wanted to do.

  She lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips against his. He froze, but she didn’t have time for hesitation and skated her tongue across his lower lip. Strong arms clasped her tight, pulling her against his body. Dante’s lips parted, and he kissed her hard. That is more like it. Julie pulled on the front of his T-shirt, bringing him closer. Her hips twisted and pushed forward, sliding against his quickly hardening erection, leaving no doubt about what she wanted.

  Dante stepped forward, and she walked backward until her back hit the lowered screen. The lights from the movie flashed across them. The sound of music, the ballet scene, intermingled with the sounds of their heavy breaths and Julie’s soft moans. Dante kept one hand on the side of her face, fingers deep in her hair, while the other skimmed down her body, leaving a trail of heat behind the touch. His deft fingers found the opening in the boxers she’d borrowed. Slipping inside, he brushed slowly back and forth across the outer folds of her core.

  Sparks of heat trembled through her. Slick desire pooled where his fingers caressed. Julie sucked in a breath, and her head fell back. Firm lips kissed her cheeks, down to the side of her neck, then possessively suckled on the sensitive skin. Her legs spread, and his fingers skimmed across the sensitive bud at her center, then pulled back.

  “Dante.” His name on her lips was an urgent plea for more.

  “Julie,” he answered, sounding just as needy.

  Dante grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and lifted. Julie’s arms rose so he could completely remove it and toss the shirt to the floor. He quickly pushed down her boxers. When she stood before him, covered only by the flashing lights from the movie, a sinful smile curved his lips—one that promised pleasure, seduction and decadence. Julie unbuttoned his jeans, then pushed the rough material and his white boxers past his waist. Her gaze fixed on his long, hard erection.

  Dante’s fingers wrapped around his length. “Julie.” His voice was low, deep, possessive.

  He cupped the back of her head and kissed her again with all the demand and need that had coated his voice. Julie’s hand lowered to push his aside and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, caressing him with firm but gentle strokes. Dante groaned and pressed her against the screen. His kiss was deeper, more erotic.

  This was what she wanted. This is what she’d wanted from the second her eyes met his over the piano—him, hot and hard against her. The fact that someone had dared try to steal her choice the night before made every kiss with Dante more precious and every caress that much more exquisite. He was her choice. For the moment he belonged only to her, and even though he could easily snatch her heart if she wasn’t careful, right now she wanted to give him everything she could.

  Dante pulled away to retrieve a condom from his pants with quick, jerky movements. Before Julie could open her mouth and beg him to hurry, his body was back on hers. Gripping her thighs, he hoisted her up and pressed her back against the screen. Julie’s legs wrapped around his trim waist. The hard length of his cock pulsed against her slippery center. His mouth plundered hers, branding her and wiping away any thoughts of another. Maybe indefinitely. Dante lifted her higher and lowered his head, slipping one puckered nipple into the welcoming warmth of his mouth.

  “Dante,” she begged, pushing her chest forward.

  He suckled her deeply and moved his hips back and forth in short, steady strokes that ran the length of his cock against the swollen nub of her sex. Tension built as her hips gyrated, and her body was drenched with need. Julie gripped his head at her breast. Her breaths came faster, harder.

  Oh, God, I’m going to come.

  “I want you to come,” Dante replied.

  Had she said that aloud? The thought was fleeting because Dante lifted his head from her breast as his hips continued their grinding in pleasurable torture. Panting his name, she gripped his shoulders and moaned louder as the pressure built higher. He kissed her, then dropped a hand to position himself at her opening. J
ulie shifted lower, and the tip of him slid inside. With a deep, guttural groan, Dante pushed forward, filling her completely.

  Chapter 14

  “So, why all the musicals?”

  Dante looked away from the bunch of grapes he’d been feeding Julie. They lounged on one of the couches in the theater. Julie’s head rested in his lap, and his hand gently traced across her flat stomach. The Wiz played on the big screen. There was a spread of fruit, cheese, crackers and juice before them. After having the most mind-blowing sexual experience of his life, he’d wanted to take her upstairs and make love to her again and again. But he wasn’t sure how she really felt after the ordeal of the night before. What happened earlier had been spontaneous. He wanted to take the time to make sure she was okay, then take her upstairs and get her to make those sexy noises while he was buried deep inside her.

  “Inspiration,” he said, plucking a green grape from the bunch and popping the firm fruit into his mouth.

  “Inspiration how?”

  “Most musicals have great dance sequences. I study the dance, and then I try to master the moves myself.”

  “Really?” She shifted away from the screen and onto her back to look him directly in his eyes. “I thought you were more of a hip-hop dancer.”

  “I am, but my parents wanted me to know about all forms of dance. At first I didn’t get their reasoning, but now I realize that understanding all the fundamentals is what made me better.”

  “Is that the same with music? You play a lot of instruments.”

  Her hand absently caressed his forearm. Dante liked her like this—soft, open, sexy, her eyes unguarded, her smile lazy and relaxed. Even more so, he liked the way he felt with a warm and happy Julie after he’d wiped away the fear and anger that had clouded her gaze. He’d always thrilled at the chase and celebrated the victory, but this feeling was different. He’d protected his woman and wanted to keep on protecting her.

  She pinched his arm. “I asked about the instruments,” she said.