A ripple of excitement ran over her skin like wildfire as his meaning registered, and then ten men were moving onto the stage. Youngest in the front and more mature in the rear. All bare-chested with crowns of leaves on their dark heads, necks, wrists, and ankles. At center back, the tallest, was Kye.
Yardley licked her suddenly dry lips as the syncopated rhythm caught at her pulse. The two lines of men began moving in time to the beat. Footsteps and small precise kicks that were powerful yet graceful moved them first right and then left across the stage as the audience erupted in applause.
But for Yardley there was only one man on stage. All she could do was stare at Kye as the muscles of his powerful thighs moved him across the floor, bent knees swiveling in and out, mesmerizing in his power, grace, and strength. Arms flexing and flowing through actions even she recognized as paddling and pulling fishnets. They all wore serious expressions in concentration for the performance.
How had she ever thought the hula was a dance strictly for women? This was raw, vigorous, masculine grace on view.
The rhythm picked up as first one and then another of the dancers took center stage to show his prowess.
When Kye stepped forward, Yardley could not stop herself from gasping as lust flash-banged through her body. Then laughter erupted from her.
Too late to stop the sound, she saw his gaze roam the crowd and then catch on her face and hold. If he was surprised, it did not show in his serious face. He seemed to grow taller, the ripped muscles of his chest and arms shown to great effect by a fist on each hip, flexed. He saw her. The raw energy of the moment causing those nearest her to glance around and look her way.
And then he was moving. The rhythm slower now, more deliberate. His hips began to move in slow circles. The suggestive undulating motion riding liquid though the rhythm was all for her. That’s what his gaze said.
The rhythm increased, forcing his concentration away from her.
But it didn’t matter. The raw energy of his dance belonged to her. Others might view the flick of his hip that flashed a butt cheek, but it didn’t matter. He was the most beautiful beast in creation. And she wanted him, wanted him with the same urgency and power that moved his gorgeous body across the floor. When his turn was done, he fell back in line for the next dancer. It didn’t matter. They were surrounded by others, but the connection between them held. The profoundly sensual experience of Kye dancing for her left her weak and aroused, overheated and shivering in anticipation.
All the things she had feared—the conversations, the recriminations, the hurt and regrets—melted away under the powerful rhythm of the visceral need to be together.
She barely heard the thunderous applause and cheers and whistles. She was moving toward the edge of the stage and the push of the crowd fell away for her. Several people patted her shoulders but she didn’t have the power to acknowledge them. There was only this drumming in her soul and the need to reach Kye.
And then he was as before, glistening with sweat, his powerful chest rising and falling with the exertions of the dance. He looked at her, the raw hunger in his gaze nearly buckling her knees. But he didn’t speak. Didn’t touch her. So she did.
She flung herself at him, pushing through the crowd.
“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He watched her uncertainly. “Really?”
“Fuck yeah.” She slapped both hands to her mouth. “Sorry.”
He shook his head, thinking harder than she’d ever seen him. Then the aloha smile spread across his face and he grabbed her hand. “Okay. Come on.”
She stumbled after him as he plunged into the crowd, cheering now his obvious conquest. “Where are we going?”
He looked back at her. “Do you care?”
Abso-freakin’-lutely not.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Leaves from his floral collar and cuffs littered the floor. His loincloth was out in the hallway. Her dress hadn’t made it two feet inside the front door. He’d murmured something about buying her a new one as he broke the straps and let it slide off her damp body. Her panties didn’t fare much better. Kye in heat was a wonder not to be missed.
Somewhere in the middle of their steps toward the bedroom, the need for a bed gave way to a more basic need. They subsided to the highly polished wood floor.
Their bodies, slick with sweat, slip-slid over each other as they grappled to bring themselves skin-to-skin and then even closer.
The kisses were just as quick and hungry, tongues licking and flicking, lapping up the taste of each other.
She breathed him in as the heat and weight of him settled over her. The floor beneath her felt cool against her feverish skin.
He pulled up. She heard foil rip. Condom. She didn’t ask. She didn’t care. But she wondered. Where could he have gotten it?