by Marie Carnay
Bruce let out a breath and looked around the hallway. Leah stood there, watching him, wondering if she stood a chance of seeing him again. She’d told him the truth—no one had ever measured up to that one night—one night with a stranger slammed up against a library bookshelf. It wasn’t the sex, though. She’d had her share of hot sex without Bruce. It was the after—the inability to shake him from her mind, the sensation of something more just around the corner. Of someone.
She stepped back and forth, prancing as she waited for him to speak. The alcohol had worn off enough for the pain in her feet to come shooting back, pain so bad she couldn’t take it or his silence anymore. She crouched and undid the buckles on her shoes to slip them off and stand barefoot in front of him. With a huge sigh of relief, she picked them up, and straightened to see him smiling at her.
“That’s more like it. You seemed so out of sorts in those shoes.”
Leah laughed and let a scrap of hope flame like tinder in her heart. “You’re right. They’re not mine. I wish I’d known you owned this place—I’d have worn my boots for sure.”
“You can next time. So, can I give you a tour?”
“I’d love that. Thanks.”
Leah took Bruce’s arm, and the pair walked down the hallway. As he showed her around, Bruce explained how he had stumbled across the warehouse in an auction and bought it with the intention of prepping it for resale. But when he’d toured it and scoped out the neighborhood and the surrounding businesses, the idea to transform it into a club had taken hold. A year later, and here they were, walking through the finished product. As they walked, the conversation ebbed and flowed in a comfortable rhythm that reminded Leah of a folk rock song.
“Oh!” she exclaimed as she turned to Bruce. “How are Tweeter and Monkeyman? I still love their names.”
Bruce smiled. “They’re good. Tweeter’s old for a mastiff now, but he manages. So, can I show you the upstairs? You’ll love the view.”
“That sounds great, but…can we stop at the bar? I came with a friend and I should let her know.”
“Of course.”
Leah slipped her shoes on and let Bruce lead her back to the dance floor where the music still pumped and throbbed, whipping the dancers into a frenzy. Leah snaked through the people—slipping around groups clustered together, easing past couples groping each other to the beat—until she spied Michelle at the bar. She slid up beside her and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Leah!” Michelle beamed. “Where have you been? I was about to get our bouncer friend to come find you.”
“I’ve been in the back. You’ll never guess who owns this place.”
“Who?”
“Bruce.”
“Bruce?” Michelle’s eyes flicked up as she scanned her memory. “Oh my god!” Michelle clapped her hands together and grinned. “You mean your Bruce?”
Leah nodded.
“Wow. Okay, so you’re good. I mean you both are good, right?”
Leah laughed and nodded again. “Yeah. So…you’re fine too? On your own? I’d like to stay and see how it goes.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m great. Sean’s off soon and we’re going to hit that diner. But, wait—” Michelle grabbed her arm. “Is he out here? Can I see him?”
Leah rolled her eyes and sighed. “Okay, but don’t embarrass me. He’s right over there. The guy in the white dress shirt at the end of the bar.”
Michelle followed Leah’s eyes and spotted him. “Oh. Now I understand. Go get him. And don’t be an idiot this time.”
Leah raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, Michelle.”
“No problem. Have fun. Do something I definitely wouldn’t do!”
Leah laughed and hugged Michelle goodbye before turning to make her way back to Bruce. “Thanks,” she said as she came up to him. “So, show me this view you were talking about.”
“Follow me.”
They made their way up a set of spiral stairs to the partial second floor. After opening an unmarked door, Bruce ushered her into an office running the length of the club. Wall-to-wall windows covered an entire wall, and as Leah walked up to them, she saw the club on full display below her. The partiers hummed amidst the pulsing lasers like hundreds of buzzing insects gyrating in a choreographed dance.
“So these are the mirrors you see from the club?”
“Yep.”
“It’s amazing.” Leah stepped forward, her nose almost pressed to the glass, and stared.
“Thanks. The whole wall is one-way mirrored glass. I can watch everyone—the dancers, the bartenders, the DJ—and they have no idea.”
Leah heard the muffled beat with the bass vibrating her toes as she stood inches from the windows. It mesmerized her—that sense of connection between her and the crowd. She smiled as she looked out at the swarming bodies. “So you’re a behind-the-scenes type too? I’d have never guessed.”
Bruce slid up behind her, body inches from hers, and his heat radiated out to her, fanning across her bare shoulders and stoking the embers. “I have to keep an eye on everything without being in the way. It’s better if I’m felt but not seen—the puppeteer pulling the club strings.”
“Well, then we have more in common than I thought.”
“How so?”
“I start work on Monday as a quant for a hedge fund. Creating the models, running the scenarios, doing the research from some backroom office.”
Bruce set his hands on Leah’s shoulders, a pair of live wires arcing and spitting fire. She closed her eyes as his hands slid down her arms and he went with them, hands sliding down her bare legs until he crouched at her feet. “Congratulations. Those positions are hard to come by.”
“Mm-hmm,” Leah managed to say as the beat and the man with his hands wrapped around her ankles torched her focus.
“You should relax tonight. Let yourself go. Here, these have to be killing you.” Bruce undid the buckles on Leah’s shoes one by one and in a sweeping move that left her no time to breathe, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the couch across the room. Setting her down on the black leather, he slipped her shoes off and kneeled in front of her, rubbing her toes in rhythm to the music.
Chapter Two
“Bruce, I—”
“You what?” He circled his fingers around her arches and ankles, rubbing away her protests.
She closed her eyes and let him take her, let him envelop her and drag her back to the library—to a night when the heat of their bodies pressed close had burned her alive and she’d turned to ashes. The memories surged into her mind, flooding her body with a molten sea that crested and broke against her skin. Leah wanted to be consumed, wanted the lava to pull her under, drag her into ecstasy with its undertow. But not just for a night.
Her eyes flew open and she yanked her feet out of Bruce’s hands, wedging them beneath her on the couch. “Bruce.”
“Leah.”
She took a deep breath to steady herself and went for it. “I don’t want another one-night stand. Not that I couldn’t jump you right now—I could. I mean I want to. I mean—”
“Shh.” Bruce rose onto his knees to meet her face to face. He trailed a hand down her cheek and she leaned into his fingers as they looked at each other. “I know what you’re trying to say. Leah, I—”
“But—”
“No. Let me say this. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since that night. Hell, I built this damn club because of you. Sunk everything I had into this just to have some tenuous connection to you through the music. And here you are, sitting in front of me, with your big brown eyes staring at me like you want to bury yourself inside me and stay. I’d given up on this, on us. I’m not letting you go again. You’re not walking out of here without me.”
A slow smile spread across Leah’s face and she grabbed Bruce’s head in her hands, sliding forward to kiss him on the lips. They kissed, eyes wide open, and Leah melted. The heat—the searing pleasure—coursed from her lips to every pore of her skin, to every cel
l of her body, whooshing through her arteries and veins until she turned molten.
Pulling away, breaking contact until she could gasp for air, she uncurled her legs and slipped them to either side of his body. As she slid forward and rested her hands on his chest, she smiled. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on being able to walk.”
With a force that matched her raging lust, Bruce grabbed her by the waist, dragging her to him until their bodies slammed together—the hard planes of his muscles flush against her chest and stomach. Leah gasped and Bruce seized the opportunity, plundering her mouth with his tongue, diving inside to taste and explore. His tongue circled and jabbed in a frenzied attack as her hands ravaged his body—running from his back to his shoulders and up into his hair. Leah wanted their clothes off, wanted everything separating them stripped away until she could feel nothing but him and lose herself in the blaze.
She tugged at his dress shirt, yanking and pulling until it came free and she could slip her hands underneath to touch his skin. As her fingertips found flesh, as she melted into his warmth, a slow burn spread up her arms. She moaned through their kiss as her hands ran up and down, fingers bouncing over muscles she’d never seen in the flesh. It wasn’t enough. She found his buttons, tugging and yanking with little success.
Bruce laughed into her lips and broke away, grabbing his shirt and pulling it up and off in a single breath. She marveled at his body—at the muscles hiding beneath the pressed cotton. She blinked in momentary confusion and laughed. “You know? I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without a shirt. You managed to keep all your clothes on last time.” Leah shook her head in wonder as she looked Bruce over. “Why was I such an idiot?”
Bruce grinned. “I blame my stunningly good technique.”
“You might be right. You better be careful—you don’t want a repeat.”
“Don’t worry. You’re not going to be able to walk, remember?”
Leah laughed as she wrapped her arms around Bruce’s neck. “I’m holding you to that.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He ran his hands up her naked thighs to dip beneath the blush organza spread out in a fan across her lap. His fingers slipped over her lace thong, sliding higher and higher until they found the swell of her breasts. With a jagged pause, a stumble of disbelief, his fingers swept over the bottom of her breasts to caress her nipples, naked and firm beneath her dress. His head fell to her shoulder, crushed against her as he circled her nipples with his thumbs.
“God, Leah, do you ever wear a bra?”
She laughed between breaths and ran her hands up his body to weave through his cropped hair. “Not with a dress like this. But then I’ve never had all that much to cover anyway.”
“I disagree.” Bruce grabbed fistfuls of her dress, wrinkling and crushing the layers as he pulled it up over her head and off her body. He threw it on the floor and Leah watched him taking in her body, now draped in necklaces and covered by only a scrap of lace.
“Damn, Leah, you’re so beautiful. Better than my memories. So much better.” He bent to taste her, to take her nipple in his mouth and suckle until she mewled beneath him. She arched her back, begging him to devour her with his lips and hands and tongue, and he complied. Her eyes drifted closed and her head fell back as Bruce gripped her thong and yanked it down. She gasped as he lifted her clean off the couch until her underwear flew in the air to land on her discarded dress.
In a fluid sweep, Bruce laid her down on the length of the couch and leaned over her, body hovering above hers as her head hit the cushions. He kissed her, lips pressing into lips as his hand wove through her hair. As his fingers ran over her tattoo, he turned her head with his hand, pushing it to the side and sweeping her hair away to plant kisses on the stars tucked behind her ear.
“I’ve missed these.” His lips descended further, a trail of shooting stars down her neck, side and hip. His fingers joined in, sliding down her leg in effortless motion until his hand wrapped around her foot and brought it up to his waiting lips. “And this,” he said, kissing the cardinal whose wings fanned out across her ankle, “is beautiful. When did you get it?”
Leah smiled in a wistful flash of memory. “When I broke up with Ben. It reminds me to focus. To reach for what I want.”
“Here I thought it was just hot. Any other tattoos I should know about? Any other guys whose hearts you’ve broken leave an ink stain on your body?”
Leah blushed crimson. “Maybe. But I didn’t break up with them.” She turned beneath him, revealing a small prancing horse tattooed on her ass.
“Them?” His eyebrows shot up. “Damn. Who— No, never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Leah slid back around until she faced him once again.
“So why didn’t I make the cut?”
Leah looked up at him, met his eyes, which were burning with apprehension. “Because I only get tattoos when something’s over. When I’ve moved on but want the memory to stay.” She swallowed and cast her eyes down, a quick hit of courage before looking back up. “We weren’t over. Somehow I just knew that. Or wanted it to be true. And besides,” she said, laughing and lightening the mood, “I didn’t need a tattoo to remember you. I’ve never been able to look at a library cart the same way again.”
Bruce smiled. “Yeah? Well, I get a hard-on every time I see a plat book.”
Leah laughed, a great mass of giggles that poured from her mouth in a rush. “That has to put a crimp in your business.”
“Tell me about it. So, how do you plan on making it up to me?” Bruce asked as he ran a hand up Leah’s leg from ankle to inner thigh. His heat radiated into her flesh and sent a shiver coursing through her body. His hand slipped across her cleft, fingers dipping inside her slick channel. She cried out at his touch, at his fingers sliding into her aching wetness, searching for her last grip on control. He found it, caressing her throbbing clit as she arched into him and let her legs fall open. With the smallest circle, the lightest pressure on her sensitive skin, she exploded in a burst of sparks—showering down onto the couch and singeing the leather.
“Hmm. Well, that’s a start.” He pulled his hands away from her quivering body and leaned over to kiss her lips.
His lips met hers and she tasted the challenge they possessed, the confident smugness savoring a contest all-too-easily won. She licked him—reached right out and ran her tongue over those champion lips as she peeled her body off the couch. Pushing him until his body hit the seat back, Leah climbed aboard, her naked body perched above Bruce as she ran her hands all over the bare skin of his chest and abs and arms. She tugged at his pants, undoing the belt and zipping down the length of his erection. She lifted, her knees straddling his legs as she helped him shove off his pants. He kicked off his shoes, and after some awkward thrashing, managed to disrobe completely.
“That’s so much better.” Leah lowered herself, her hands on either side of Bruce’s neck on the couch. She teased him with her body, sliding up and down, letting his cock slip into her folds as she coated him in her slippery heat. Her breasts rubbed against his chest and he fell back, seemingly taken to another world by the sensation of her all over him. His hands rested on her hips and he let her lead, let her toy with him as he moaned in surrender.
Leah wanted to slide over his cock and take him in until they became one pulsing, undulating flame, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t break the magic. Damn condoms. Such a pain in the ass. Good thing I like this too. With a groan, she slid off him and to the floor, wrapping her hand around his shaft and pumping in a steady rhythm. As he leaned forward, she leaned over, taking him into her mouth and savoring the taste of her own body on his skin. She remembered that sensation, that possession she had of his body in the library on her knees. She wanted to own him, to control him, to make him all hers.
She smiled around his shaft and sucked, pulling him deeper and deeper down her throat. Her head bobbed in time to the muffled rhythm from the dance floor and as she added her hands, Bruce gra
bbed her head, twisting her hair around his fingers. She looked up at him, at his eyes clouded and heavy as he stared at her, and she paused, mouth full of him, lips stretched around his throbbing cock head as she waited.
“I’ve missed you, Leah.” He bent down and kissed her hair and she continued, lapping at his engorged cock head and shaft with her tongue. As he fell back with a groan, she picked up speed, working her magic until she tore a strangled moan from his mouth and he pumped into her—a bottle rocket launched into the night, exploding in a fiery cascade down her throat.
As he fell back on the couch in surrender, she slipped off him and smiled, satisfied with her work, but tense from the need still boiling inside her. She stood, stretched her arms high over her head until her body uncoiled, and she walked to the wall of windows. She stood there, naked but for the necklaces draping across her chest and down to her bellybutton, watching the crowd as it moved to the rhythm. She reached out and placed a palm on the mirrored glass and the beat seeped into her skin. The tempo ramped up, churning and churning until the bass dropped and the crowd roared in collective ecstasy. Shutting her eyes, she let it take her, let the music transport her to her other world where she could be free and be herself and fly.
As she rocked and swayed, a hand wrapped around her hip and slid up her stomach to cup her breast. She inhaled in a quick gasp as Bruce slid up behind her. His hands wrapped around her breasts, squeezing, pinching, rolling her nipples between his fingers and she pressed back into him. His erection pressed into her ass and she reached back to stroke him. But instead of the smooth skin she expected, a condom greeted her. Relief rushed through her system as she sagged against him.
“Oh, thank god.”
Bruce laughed, a deep throaty rumble as he hugged her to him, caressing her body up and down. “Glad to know you approve.”
