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She’d always been a little amused at her friends who fell head-over-heels for man after man. Not the ones like Sabrina or Kelly, who’d found relationships that were real and lasting, but the ones who bounced from one infatuation to the next. The ones who got breathless and starry-eyed talking about their latest pash, at least until the magic wore off. It had never hit her like that. Mild interest, yes, attraction, sure, but nothing overwhelming. Nothing that she couldn’t manage. In Zach Reed’s case, it hadn’t even mild interest, just annoyance. At least not until that moment when she stood in the dark bar, staring at him up on stage. Then it just morphed instantly into pure lust. He wore his usual t-shirt and jeans, but under the lights, drawing hot and nasty blues from a beat-up electric, he was riveting. He wasn’t a showman. He didn’t strut or flail or talk to the crowd. He just stood and played as though he were the only one in the room, his eyes half-closed, his hands sliding up and down the fret board with the same absent grace she imagined he might use caressing a woman. Zach’s mouth curved. His expression gave her the uneasy feeling that he knew exactly what was going through her mind. And he pulled her under his spell. She felt it, she knew it as it was happening. It was, purely and simply, the aural equivalent of sex. The pace was slow, a rhythmic pulse that thudded into her system and had her moving to it without volition in the same way a woman’s hips moved helplessly to the touch of a man. He didn’t have the kind of radio-ready voice that was popularized on the television talent shows. It was low, rough with no pretense of finesse. Then again, he didn’t need finesse; what the music required, what he brought to it was a grit, a realness, a husky murmur that floated over the top of the guitar licks that throbbed beneath. So he played and he sang. And he watched her the whole time. For long moments, she just stared back at his shadowed eyes, at his hands stroking the guitar and shivered as though they were stroking her arms instead. His mouth widened into a wicked smile. And suddenly Paige started listening to the lyrics, really listening. He wasn’t singing of how he’d lost his job or his money or his dog He was talking about a woman. He sang of promise, of all the ways he’d touch her, long and slow, quick and hard, tempting, teasing, breaking down her protests. He sang of long nights in the dark, the pulse of desire filling the room, of pleasure like a drug running through their veins. The want, the compulsion throbbed in the music. He sang a song of seduction in his bruised voice and beneath it all the guitar wailed like a woman crying out her pleasure. It gave Paige chills, it made her shiver. And it made her want. Watching his hands, watching his mouth form the words, all she could think of was what it would be like with him, to feel him on top of her, against her, driving himself into her as the music throbbed. How would he kiss? How would he touch? How would it feel that first time he slid inside her, the first time she really knew him, before he dragged them both over the edge into orgasm? When the applause hit, it took her a moment to realize the song was over. Zach nodded, then set his guitar aside. End of the set, she realized as he stepped off the low stage. And an instant later, she realized that he was coming to her. Adrenaline flooded through her. End of the set and he was walking across to her in that easy amble. End of the set and he was coming to find her. Her heart hammered in her chest until she swore she could hear the pulse beat in her ears over the Robert Cray song playing on the PA. Zach came to a stop beside her. “Look who’s here.” “Hello,” she said breathlessly. “This is a surprise.” He looked her up and down. “A nice one, by the way. You look good.” To her complete annoyance, she blushed. “You sound good.” “Thanks.” There wasn’t a stool nearby her so he just contented himself with standing next to her. Uncomfortably next to her, she realized. If he’d been potent across the room, up close the heat, the sexuality were palpable. She didn’t want to want him, but somehow she wanted just the same. “That song was…different.” He gave a low laugh and trailed his fingers up her arm. “You thought so?” She shivered. “Aren’t the blues supposed to be about being in jail or being down so low or having some other guy digging sweet potatoes in your garden?” “I don’t spend a lot of time digging sweet potatoes. Sometimes I like to be a little more direct.” His eyes weren’t entirely black, she saw. They had glints of gold around the edge, flickers of heat. There was something mesmerizing about them. The bartender walked up and tossed down a couple of bar mats, the slap of cardboard on wood startling her. “Get you something, Zach?” “Beer and whatever she’s having,” he said, nodding to Paige. She considered her options. “Wild Turkey, please.” Zach watched her, eyebrows raised. “Bourbon gal?” She gave a quick smile. “Not really. I usually drink wine but I figure when in Rome…” “Careful. The Turkey can nip at you if you’re not used to it. Besides, you don’t want some guy trying to get you hammered and take advantage of you.” “Really? Would that be you?” “No.” He gave a wolfish smile. “I’d rather sleep with you when you’re sober. I think it’ll make the whole experience a lot more rewarding.” Time seemed to pause for a beat, and for just that time she hadn’t a coherent thought in her head. “Yes. Well,” she managed and cleared her throat. “So this is what you do?” The look he gave her was purely and simply amused. “When I can get paid for it. This is just a pickup gig I worked out while I’m here in town. What did you think?” What she thought was that the height of the stool put her eyes at the level of his mouth, and she was finding herself increasingly conscious of it. “Extended silence is never a good sign,” he observed. “I liked it, a lot. I don’t know much of anything about the blues but I think you are seriously good.” “Tell that to my record label.” “What?” “Nothing.” He raised his glass. “To Paige’s first dive bar.” “You don’t know that,” she countered. “I could go to places like this every night of the week.” He scanned her up and down until her cheeks heated. “Nope, not seeing it.” “Shows what you know.” He rested one hand on the bar and leaned in toward her. “Stick around and I’ll show you what I know,” he murmured. There wasn’t enough air, Paige thought in a panic. She couldn’t breathe, her heart was ready to jump out of her chest, and above all, most of all she wanted to kiss him. No, that wasn’t precisely true?she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted someone else to take control of things because it didn’t make sense, he wasn’t her type, they were so wrong, wrong, wrong but God, the thought of it had the breath backing up in her lungs. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the woman on the next stool leave. Relief made her exhale. If she could just get him to move away and sit, maybe she could think straight again, maybe she could focus on something besides how it would feel to press against that hard, rangy body and have his mouth on hers. “Why don’t you sit?” She turned her head to him, that’s all it was, simply turning her head to talk to him, but his mouth was just there, and suddenly it wasn’t simple any more, suddenly his mouth was hot and hard on hers, the feel of it, the heat of it sucking her down and in until for the first time in her life, Paige Favreau couldn’t think. She could only feel. Heat. It blazed through her, the rush of it like a wildfire. In self defense, she closed her eyes. And then Zach was all there was, Zach and the wanting, Zach and the promise, Zach and all that good heat. And she gave herself over to it. He didn’t bother with teasing or clever seduction. He just took. Hands hard on her, he kissed her with lips and teeth and tongue like no man ever had before. He dove fearlessly into it and he dared her to come with him, sliding one arm around her waist, the other up into her hair so that he was all around her, all the could taste, all she could feel. And all she could do was want more. Maybe it was the liquor, maybe it was the hour, maybe it was the temptation that he’d presented from the start. She’d always been the good girl, the one who went for the smart, presentable boys. Ambassadors’ daughters didn’t get caught making out in bars, but oh, his hands felt so good sliding over her hips and his mouth was doing mind-bending things to her that made it impossible to really worry about it. She was a grownup and a woman and for once she’d just let herself feel and take without a thought for the consequences. On the sound system, a woman sang about a thing called love. The seconds dragged by but neither of them noticed. And Zach struggled for control in a way he never had before. He’d kissed plenty of women, had hot, sweaty sex with plenty more. He’d had women whose bodies and mouths sent him into bliss, orgasms that were religious experiences, but always, always, he could walk away. Always, he was the master of himself. Suddenly he was in the middle of something he couldn’t even remotely control, something that had exploded with power. It had started when he’d looked up to see her, leggy and lovely and dark-eyed, staring at him with eyes that said yes. And if he hadn’t been on stage, he’d have gotten her somewhere dark and quiet and private so fast it would have made her head spin. Instead, he’d waited, made love to her with the music. Until she’d kissed him. He felt the ruthless punch of desire, tasted the bourbon on her tongue as it slicked against his. That scent of hers wound into his brain until he was dizzy with it, that scent that had him thinking of touching her, warm and naked in the moonlight,. And she didn’t just take, she demanded, pressing up against him, making that little growling sound in her throat that brought him to the edge. He’d had no idea. He’d speculated that there was something uninhibited hidden under that controlled exterior but now he was sure of it and the reality had him granite hard and struggling for control. It was impossible to say what was more arousing, the intensity of her response or the fact that it was so unexpected. “Uh, dude, you want another?” It took a moment for Zach to register the words, then he broke the kiss and glanced over to see the bartender looking steadily at him. “‘Bout time for your last set, isn’t it?” Eyes on Paige, Zach let out a long breath. “Yeah, I guess it’s that time.” He heard the bartender walk away but he didn’t bother to look. Paige stared at him, her eyes dark, lips swollen. From his, he realized, and the thought had the want blazing through him again. She sat there so calm and composed, but he knew what was in her, knew what he could do. Knew where he could take her. “This set ends in half an hour. You sticking around?” She rose. “I should go. Definitely.” “So you’re just going to walk away? After that?” “Yeah,” she said. “I think it’s time.” “Not quite,” he said. Not before he had one more taste. It was quick, hard, and blindingly memorable, sort of the jolt and heat of a lightning bolt, maybe. And then he was letting her loose to walk away without even a word. If they’d been somewhere else, anywhere else, he’d have taken it further. Standing in the middle of a bar where he had a gig probably wasn’t the best venue for tearing off her clothes and going at it. Just as well; a few minutes more and he’d be whimpering for her, and he had some dignity left. He hoped. Before, he’d been amused, a little challenged. He’d speculated about that there was something else hidden away behind that tidy exterior. Now, he was sure of it. And knowing was
going to keep him awake for a very long time.
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