“No, I’m fine, I just…” She couldn’t continue. Her heart was racing. Her glance slid to his rosy-pink lips. Those full, infuriatingly sexy lips.
She opened her mouth to try again, but before she could utter a word, his lips were on hers. Hot and demanding. Insistent. She returned their fervor with her own.
She wound her arms around him, clutching the hard muscles that ran the length of his back, crushing away the space between them. His chest against hers, his hips pressing into hers.
It was insanity, feeling him against her, his lips sliding down her neck, his breath making her tingle in so many amazing places.
When he grabbed her ass, gripping her and pressing her against that incredibly hard part of him, she gasped. God, this should stop. She should pull away. She knew she should push him away, but even as the thought emerged, she already knew she couldn’t. She wanted this. She’d wanted it for a long time.
He pulled back, and she opened her eyes. Those gorgeous green eyes of his were staring at her, searching her expression, looking so damn vulnerable and adorable it made her knees weak.
“Should I stop?” he breathed, his voice rough, his breath labored.
Her own breath caught in her throat. She should say yes. She knew it. It was the practical thing to do. But she couldn’t pull away.
She whispered, “Don’t you dare.”
| 24
That was the only permission Taz needed. In an instant, he scooped her up, wrapping his arms around the soft curves of her hips, and she responded by wrapping her legs—those gorgeously strong and supple legs—around his hips.
Damn, he wanted her. It almost frightened him how much he wanted her. He couldn’t lie, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought of this moment. There’d been plenty of times his thoughts had drifted to her—wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through her loose, honey-brown hair, or let his hands roam over those gorgeously full breasts. The cropped tee she had on had nearly undone him, fitting so snugly, so perfectly around that part of her anatomy. He could practically make out the lace pattern of her bra. God, this was crazy.
What his body was telling him to do was slam her against the wall, rip away that tee and those leggings, and take her right here. It almost surprised him that it was his own conscience that stopped him. Not because his grandmother stared down at him from the wall, but because it felt different this time.
She was different.
She didn’t adore him or fawn over him or make a fuss like so many other women did. Hell, sometimes she didn’t even seem to like him. At least not at first. But when she smiled or when she said something kind, he knew she meant it. He knew she had no ulterior motives.
In some strange, inexplicable way, he knew he could trust her in a way he hadn’t trusted a woman in a long time.
Tonight when he’d seen her on the dance floor, he couldn’t help but remember how it had felt to be with her onstage. How perfectly in tune they’d been and how much he had wanted her that very first night.
Then, like now, there were so many reasons to hold back, to keep their relationship uncomplicated. To make sure things stayed on track, at least until Gina was safely on her way back to New York.
There were so many good, solid reasons. He just couldn’t remember them right now. All he could think of was the soft lavender smell of her skin, the warm citrus scent of her hair, the velvety feel of her arms and her back, and the strength in her kiss.
Before he even knew what he meant to do, he was carrying her out of the dance room, down the hall, and directly to his room. Their room.
She didn’t protest. When he dropped her onto the deep, pillowy comforter, she looked around and smiled.
That genuine, sweet smile of hers. Whatever strength he had left was gone. Whatever second thoughts he had vanished. He lowered himself on top of her and wrapped his arms around her, feeling every part of himself touch her.
None of this could be wrong, he told himself, because it felt too damn right.
| 25
The next morning, Melanie awakened to the rustling of sheets beside her. The memories of the night before flooded back. All the kisses and caresses. All the ways he had stroked her body and slowly driven her wild with desire. It had seemed an eternity before he took her, and only then—she remembered with a blush—it had been because she had rolled on top of him and taken matters into her own hands.
A bold move, but she recalled he hadn’t seemed to mind. She pressed her face into the soft, down pillow to hide the grin spreading across her face.
Behind her, she could hear Taz roll out of bed, pad to the bathroom, and close the door. Morning light glowed around the edges of the lush draperies, and she knew she should get up, but it all seemed so perfect right now. The sexed feeling gave her a warm glow, and she didn’t want to lose it.
She wanted to linger in the memory of that amazing night.
When Taz emerged from the shower, with just a towel around his waist, she was propped up in bed, watching a rerun of Supernatural.
“That’s a first,” he said, using a second towel to rub his wet hair.
“What?” Her mind raced with possibilities. First woman in his bed? No way. First morning-after? Just as unlikely.
“First time I’ve seen you watch anything in color.”
She laughed. “I’m not narrow-minded. I watch a lot of different things.”
He walked over to the bed and crawled toward her, nuzzling her neck with kisses. “You are definitely not narrow-minded. Some of the things you did last night, whew! They blew my mind.”
“Me? I remember a few… shall we say adventurous… moments on your part as well.”
He pulled back, and with a self-satisfied grin, added, “You’re right, I was on fire last night.”
She slapped him lightly. “You’re naughty.”
He caught her hand and pulled her closer. He looked at her and quirked his eyebrow. “I know. It makes us a pretty good pair, doesn’t it?”
He planted a long, delicious kiss on her lips before she could say anything. Then he pulled back, rose, and turned. She was going to make her comeback when he let the white towel drop to the floor, and he walked away in all his glorious nakedness. She stared at the way his backside begged to be touched, the way the muscles of his back rippled. The words vanished.
When he reached the closet door and opened it, he glanced over his shoulder. “You aren’t looking at my ass, are you?”
She turned at least fifty shades of red because he knew as well as she did that was exactly what she was doing.
“I plead the fifth,” she said and, with the sheet wrapped around herself, she rushed into the bathroom to claim it for herself.
“Aw, c’mon,” he said as she closed the door. “I showed you mine. The least you could do is return the favor.”
It should have added to her embarrassment, but all she could do was grin.
| 26
By the time Melanie had dressed, dried her hair, and headed down to the kitchen to find something to eat, the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the house. She followed it like a bee to pollen.
Taz was sitting at the center island, finishing a plate of toast slathered with butter and strawberry jam.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said when he saw her.
She craned her neck around, looking to see if they were alone.
“Don’t worry. The she-wolf isn’t around. She’s off doing God-knows-what.”
Melanie breathed easier. So it would be just the two of them for a little while longer. Perfect.
“There’s practically a full pot in there for you.” He took the last bite of toast and deposited his plate in the sink. She saw his coffee was loaded in a travel mug.
“You going somewhere?” she asked.
“Yeah, Garrett wants to do a sound check at the hotel before the party preppers go crazy.”
The party. Damn, with all that had happened last night, she’d forgotten about the Pandemon
ium Ball.
“Cool,” she said. “I have a lot to do, too.”
“Well, I think you’ll have the place to yourself. Gina said she’ll meet us there.”
A welcome relief.
“So are you going to give me at least a hint about your costume?”
She smiled deviously. “No way! But I think you’ll like it.”
“That certainly whets the appetite.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll be back about four to pick you up. Think you’ll be ready?”
“I’ll be ready.”
He bent to peck her lips then paused and instead planted a longer, deeper kiss that made her toes curl. “Bye,” he said and walked out the door.
“Bye,” she whispered to his back and waited until she heard the front door shut to do her victory dance.
| 27
The rest of Melanie’s day was spent in a wonderful, leisurely fog. She practiced until every limb ached then climbed into bed for a nap with Spike cradled beside her. When she awoke, she slipped into a long, hot bath. And the whole time, her mind kept drifting back to the wonderful night before.
She should probably call Abby and confess she’d been right. But there was plenty of time for that. Right now it was fun having this wonderful thing all to herself. Just for a little while longer.
By the time Taz returned at four, she was waiting in the living room, standing at the back window that looked out toward the Pacific.
She waited for him to look up from the mail he was thumbing through before she said hello. When his eyes caught hers and widened, she let a slow, sexy smile creep across her face. This was the reaction she’d been hoping for.
Without a word, she glided forward in long, stage-worthy strides, lifting her arms to make the drape of white chiffon attached to her upper arms and wrists billow and flutter against the matching circle skirt. She dipped and spun, letting him take in her whole appearance: the vintage-styled hair, the smoky makeup, the bra and belt, thick with sequins and jewels that shone like polished onyx. She pressed up against him, her lips coming to rest just beneath his.
“So, what do you think?”
“You look like you stepped out of one of those Samia Gamal movies.”
She pumped her fist in victory. “Yes! I knew you’d get it.” She twisted and fluttered her arms. “The chiffon is straight out of The Glass and the Cigarette, but the rest is my own tribal touch.” She brushed her hand lightly over the bits of embroidered glass called shisha, the cowrie shells, tiny tassels, and assorted bits of chunky Bedouin jewelry covering her bra and belt, and her headband—all black, gray, and white to give the illusion she was an image captured on the silver screen.
“I like it,” he whispered, his voice rough.
He raised his hands to her hips and bent his head to kiss her, but she slipped out of reach before he could.
“Hey,” he said with a frown.
“Sorry,” she said. “The makeup is pretty sturdy, but it’ll smudge if I’m not careful. Actually, I need your help with my back.” It had taken nearly an hour to get the application just right to cover her natural skin color. She’d had to use extra to cover her tattoos. She’d managed a nice blend on all the parts of herself she could see and reach, but there was a patch between her shoulder blades she couldn’t get to. She grabbed the bottle of light gray from the table, handed it to him with a small sponge, and turned her back to him.
“So this is all I get to touch, all night?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“That’s not fair, you know.”
“Last time I checked, life wasn’t fair. Please try to blend it evenly, if you can. It’s a little tricky.”
In a moment she felt the cool touch of the paint on her skin and his fingers brushing in slow, smooth strokes.
“What’s with the goosebumps?” he said softly. He was so close she could feel his breath on her neck.
“How do you do that?”
“What?”
“Make lathering on skin paint sexy.”
“I guess it’s a gift.”
She smiled and resisted the temptation to break her own no-touching rule.
“Okay, looks good,” he said. He pulled his hand away, and she felt the absence suddenly, like a splash of cold water.
In fact, a cold shower was exactly what she needed to get herself composed again. Since that wasn’t in the cards, she’d have to make do with the time it took him to get changed to get herself together.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked and picked up his keys.
She frowned. “Didn’t you forget something?”
He shook his head.
“Your costume?” she pressed. “You haven’t changed yet.”
“Oh, that,” he said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a mask. It was covered in black satin and shaped to cover half his face. He slid it over his head, and with his white tunic, he looked like a reverse Phantom of the Opera. He spread out his arms. “Ta-da!”
“You’re kidding me,” she said.
“What, you don’t like it?”
“It’s not that. You look good. It’s just not fair. This”—she gestured around herself—“took hours. That took you two seconds.”
He smirked devilishly. “Funny, last time I checked, life wasn’t fair.”
| 28
Melanie had to admit, driving to downtown Los Angeles in Taz’s Porsche was nothing like driving up in her old Honda. Not only did people slow down and make room in the lane when Taz put on his blinker, instead of speeding up and riding the bumper of the vehicle in front of them as they usually did, but they also smiled. The tipped their chins with respect as he passed. They were friendly.
The best part was pulling up to The Victorian Hotel, an older but still regal building in LA’s downtown district. The valet parking attendant didn’t grudgingly approach the car. The guy actually jogged over to open her door and offer a hand.
“Welcome to The Victorian, miss. Are you here for the ball?”
“We are,” she answered, trying to stifle the grin burning inside her.
“If there’s anything we can do to make your visit more enjoyable, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you,” she said as she stood a little straighter and a little prouder. So this is what it was like for the other half? Not bad.
“Looks like we aren’t too early.” Taz dipped his head toward the costumed crowd lingering near the entrance. He came up to her and slipped his hand around to the small of her back and rested it on her belt.
The simple gesture gave her tingles all over again. It surprised her how natural it felt. She stared at her gray arms, her gray, bare midriff. Damn, body paint. She wanted to nuzzle against him, to feel the warmth of him, but she couldn’t without ruining all her hard work.
“You look fantastic, by the way,” he whispered in her ear. “Did I already tell you that?”
“You did, but don’t let that stop you.”
“That’s my girl.”
There it was again. That lush, warm sensation radiating through her.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s check out the party.”
A liveried doorman swung open the brass-and-glass door for them, and Melanie nearly gasped. The lobby would have been right at home in a European palace. It was exquisite, with all its marble, polished wood, and shiny brass.
Still, the hotel paled in comparison to the crowd. As they made their way through the lobby, they passed a sea of wild characters. It was like a Tim Burton film collided with an Anne Rice novel, with touches of Lord of the Rings and Star Wars. She slowed to avoid stepping on a woman’s train assembled entirely of peacock feathers and jostled out of the way of a woodland nymph carrying two plastic cups filled with a neon-blue liquor and glowing swizzle sticks.
“Love the costume. Silver screen. Very cool,” the nymph whispered as she passed.
“Thanks,” Melanie said.
Taz bypassed the line where new arrivals were checking in and found a table wh
ere a single person sat with a sign reading Talent Check-In. He stepped up and handed over a card.
The young man, dressed like he was on his way to a Renaissance faire, handed back two purple wristbands. “All-access. Have fun.”
“We intend to, thanks,” Taz said. He put one on Melanie’s wrist and then his own.
“So we’re official now?” she asked.
“We’re official.” He winked. “C’mon, you’re going to love this.” He opened the door to the ballroom.
The music that had been thumping through the walls spilled out like a tsunami, a bass-heavy electronic beat that penetrated every move and thought. It was impossible not to bob or sway, and in her mind she was already dancing to its rhythm.
But Taz was on the move. He put his hand on the back of her belt again and guided her deeper into the darkened ballroom, where candelabras flickered with LED flames and bright electric colors chased each other over the crowd.
He was heading toward the long bar when he leaned down and said over the cacophony of music and voices, “I see Garrett. I’ll introduce you.”
She stared at a woman walking by who was dressed in a shimmering, barely-there toga and wearing a headdress like a golden silk starfish on her head. Amazing.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s great.” The way she was feeling, she would have said yes to anything. It was intoxicating being here, like she’d fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole and found herself in some kind of make-believe world. It was like a dream, like a big, wonderful dream she never wanted to leave.
She followed behind Taz, watching the parade of beautiful freaks, smiling at the medieval knight and lady cheetah, the Willy Wonka lookalike and the warrior princess. When they stopped in front of a man whose only remarkable quality was his impossible likeness to a young David Bowie, she nearly laughed.
Taz clasped the man around the shoulders and gave him a brotherly embrace.
“Garrett, this is the friend I was telling you about. This is Melanie.”
Romance: Dance with Me (California Belly Dance Romance Book 2) Page 10
