“No. Play is all there is,” I whispered back. “I have Rick.”
Bruiser’s eyes came alight and he showed teeth in a wicked smile. My blood pounded, following the percussive beat of the music. Our skin was slick with sweat from the humid night and the glowing coals, our hands sliding through perspiration, flesh heated beneath. “But he is gone. And I am here.” There was an overt anger in the words, and I heard what he didn’t say. Leo was gone too. And Bruiser had no one else.
His hands tilted my pelvis up against him, leading me to a sudden stop. We stood, poised, chest to chest, our breaths matched and rapid, a single beat of immobility, then, slowly, slower than the fast-paced beat of the song, he stepped to the formal, closed position where he held me, his breath on my mouth, my chest to his, our pelvises melded together, his thigh pressing intimately against me.
“I’m here and I want you. And you want me.” My eyes were locked to his in the dim light of the candles, close and intense. Bruiser dipped his head as if to kiss me, his mouth a breath away, taunting, teasing, and then stepped to the side, resuming the dance.
He led us into a series of turns as the music built, rose, and fell. Our pelvises thrust and withdrew, curling closer and away. The urgency of our movements increased as the musical number drew to a close, the drums rising to a fever pitch. He thrust me away and under one arm and back, his lead demanding as the beat. Twirled me hard, slinging my hair around us, and slammed me back. And we ended the dance with my spine against the front of his body, his arms and mine all wrapped around me. Prisoning me. His hands on the flat of my stomach, under my tee, skin to skin.
We were breathing hard, our hearts beating harder. Bruiser’s face was near my ear, his breath moving my hair back and forth. My braid had come partly undone, the wisps and longer strands wrapped around us, sticking to our skin, hot and damp with sweat.
Beast purred deep within me. Satisfied yet wanting more of this potent music, this powerful dance. It is alive, like the hunt, like the play with prey, she thought.
Cat and mouse, I thought back. But which of us is the mouse? I was afraid it was me.
The music changed, a slower number beginning. I tried to step away, but Bruiser held us still for the first two beats of the measure and then stepped to the side. Pivoted my body around and led me into the steps, to the side, slowly, then back and forth in a quick-quick pattern.
I recognized a bolero, danced to a slow rumba rhythm, a conga and bongos providing percussion. The bolero was a deliberate, measured, romantic dance, always performed staring into the partner’s eyes. The heat of the merengue began to segue into a different kind of heat, deeper, more intense, more hungry. Rick is not here, Beast thought. Rick no longer protects his territory. We find another, stronger predator/mate. She kicked out, slamming me away, and undulated against Bruiser.
I needed to stop this. I needed to get away. But Beast wanted more. Much more. Damn Ricky Bo. Why hadn’t he called? He could have called. ... And damn Beast for reminding me that big-cats don’t mate for life.
Bruiser’s hand moved against my back, along my spine with each slow belly ripple, each slow turn, and I could feel the pressure and heat and texture of it. I couldn’t pull away. “I want you,” he murmured. “I want you in my bed, under me. Moving like this. I want you with me forever.”
Rick had never said that. Rick had never said the forever word. Rick never said the love word. Inside, something in me broke, silent and wounded. Only a month, I thought back at the broken part. We’ve been together only a month. And Bruiser’s had a century to perfect the art of seduction. To learn the moves to make and the words to say to get inside a girl’s pants. He’s looking for a place to be, searching for a new den to claim. Deserted and alone, just like me. But he’s a blood-servant. I can’t forget that. His allegiance is to Leo, even after Leo kicked him out.
The emptiness in his eyes called to me. Lost and lonely, it sank its teeth into me, hooked its claws into me, and claimed a small place inside my soul. And I let him lead me, knowing it was dangerous, knowing it was foolish, knowing this might be taking me where I didn’t want to go. And inside me, something else wept and raged.
The turns of the bolero were almost stately, but the position and movement of our bodies was sensual, sinuous, supple. And he never released my gaze, holding me, holding Beast, with his eyes as firmly as his hands.
The darkness grew, the moon below the horizon, the candles flickering as a slow wind rose. The steps pulled us together and away, only millimeters apart but it seemed so much farther until we met again in a clench that bespoke sexual, teasing, unsatisfied need. My back to his chest again, his hands moved to my abdomen, caressing, leaving aching need in the wake of his hands. As the song drew to a close, he turned me to face him and his hand lifted, cupped my jaw, sliding along my neck, shoulder, down my waist to my hip. He cupped my bottom and drew me closer. In, up against him. Against his hardness.
And the lights went on in the house behind us. “Jane?”
I jerked away. Breaking his hold on me. The heat between us throbbed once with need. Evangelina was home. Crap. And, Thank God ...
“Back here,” I called. “Streak’s on the grill.” Shaking, I opened the cool pack and laid the last steak over the dying coals, pushed the last potato over so it would be heated evenly, and tossed the leftover salad. It was wilted but the night was dark. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.