Over an hour later, Celeste and Roarke stepped out into the temperate night. A mist of rain sprinkled down on them as they moved with brisk steps down the sidewalk, toward the public garage, to Roarke’s car. She’d told him she could take the train back to the station where she’d left her vehicle, but he insisted on giving her a ride.
Deep down, she was happy about it. She didn’t want the night to end, and she wished she could think of a reason to prolong the time in his company. He’d been considerate all evening, refusing to let her pay for anything and reminding her it was her birthday. They’d chitchatted about everything, from politics to religion, from world affairs to current events on U.S. soil. His breadth of knowledge of each topic they tackled amazed her.
A loud boom of thunder clapped overhead, and the surrounding buildings rattled an answer.
“Wow, that was loud,” Celeste murmured, looking up at the sky.
“Yeah, it—damn!”
As if someone turned on a celestial faucet, rain rushed down on them in a torrent as lightning flitted across the sky in a jagged arch. Celeste squealed, hunching her shoulders in vain to protect herself from the heavy droplets.
“Come on!”
Roarke took hold of her hand, and they jogged to the shelter of a jewelry store’s entryway. The deluge imprisoned them behind a curtain of water. They hovered in the doorway for protection, only a few feet from the downpour, pressed against each other as the wind whipped the rain into a wild frenzy. Roarke provided a shield with his body, his back to the street to prevent the wild sprays from reaching her.
They stood there, clinging to each other, when reality slowly set in. Their bodies were pressed into a corner. The grumble of thunder and the splatter of raindrops created a symphony of sound that caused Celeste to melt against him, as if her bones had abandoned her body.
“Typical Georgia weather,” Roarke murmured, his breath stirring the damp hair on her head.
She felt the stealthy motion of his hand creep up her left side and come to rest below the curve of her breast. Desire flooded her body, making her wet and hungry within seconds in anticipation of his next move.
“I’ve lived here all my life, and I’m still not used to it.”
She barely recognized the husky tremor of her own voice. She’d clearly lost the battle to sound casual. In the darkened corner, she was surrounded by the sharp citrus scent of his cologne. The gentle scratch of Roarke’s facial hair brushed the skin of her cheek. When his tongue snaked to the corner of her mouth, she struggled to regulate her breathing, and her eyelids lowered in acceptance.
They’d danced around it all night, but each smile, each word, each touch had been leading up to this moment. His hand pressed her lower back so her hips became glued to his. Pressure built between her legs to an almost unbearable, nuclear level.
Then he kissed her. The hungry assault of his lips pulled a moan from her as she looped her arms around his neck and received his ardor with enthusiasm. The sharp flavor of rum and the sweetness of Coke danced across her palate. His sneaky thumb inched higher and rubbed the erect nipple of one breast, sending a dart of pleasure to settle between her legs.
His mouth continued to glide over hers, soft but firm. His tongue made sweeping movements, thrusting in and out in a seductive motion that had her mindless with burning need, scattering her earlier reservations. All she could do was moan and run her fingers over the dark curls on his head.
Roarke shifted, and the next thing she knew, her back was against the cool glass of the jewelry store door, her dress hiked high up on her thighs so he could lift her leg and position himself more intimately against her. The hard bulge he pressed between her legs made her tremble with the realization of a need so basic it permeated every cell of her body.