microphone rose above the rebel rousers’, repeating the phrase, “Go, baby!” She sang along with the lyrics, sounding amazingly like Alicia Keys on her first top-ten hit—“I Keep On Fallin’.”
Ooh, Bryce was good, and Rio followed his lead. They dipped, spun, grinded, rubbed and gyrated to a beat exclusively meant for their bodies. He kept her firmly against him, a taut mass of male potency, and never allowed air to circulate between them.
Bending her backward again, the bunched muscles of his chest flexed under her hands. She ran her fingers through the dense mat of hair up to the pair of generous shoulders, caressing his sweat-slicked skin, and spread them along his corded neck, where his pulse throbbed, beating an unruly pace. She glided her hands higher, laced her fingers into his sable hair. The silky waves parted, settled into smooth layers.
This was the closest she would ever get to screwing this gorgeous male and she enjoyed every touch, every caress, every second.
Mercy.
Sliding one hand down her body, he grazed the side of her breast, continued down to her midriff, her hip, and palmed her behind in a gentle squeeze, a caress that lasted seconds too short in her estimation. His hand eased under her thigh, drew her leg around his hip.
Rio sucked in air, a hiss threatening to leave her lips.
She knew better than to let him continue. He was in full-blown erection. She would bust a nut in another second or two if she didn’t watch out. The head of that stout tree was there—right there!—at the gateway to her heat, damp already, quivering with need as thick, bulging meat throbbed against her sensitivity.
Staring into his eyes, she made the second serious mistake: circling her hips, wanting to feel every satisfying inch of him inside her if possible. But she failed to corral the sensations striking her infallible senses, one by one.
Her mouth watered, ears rang…her brain shut down.
She came.
Climaxed ferociously and unraveled. The tide rushed through her system speedier than a shattering ride under an avalanche down a steep mountain.
Rio gulped in air, stifling the shriek rising in her throat, and gripped Bryce’s shoulders, sinking her nails deeply into his skin. She held on for dear life to keep from tumbling completely out of control, to keep her sanity intact.
And he kissed her, savaging her mouth in a mind-blowing assault that spread her toes and curled her hair. He kissed her so thoroughly, the music, screams and yelling seemed miles away, fading until nothing mattered.
Nothing mattered, except the torrent of emotions flooding her mind, the shock waves jolting her body and the sweet taste of the man who sensuously teased every corner inside her mouth with his tongue. Nothing mattered, except Bryce Sullivan’s fiery lips, how he held her so tightly in his strong arms, preventing her from coming apart atom by devastated atom, protecting her from a tumultuous landing.
As the fierce tremors tentatively wore off, the kiss ending, Rio lifted her heavy eyelids. She blinked, embarrassed and slightly dizzy, barely controlling her breaths. She stared back into his expressive eyes.
He knew. He knew!
Bryce continued holding her, continued caressing her, his sensuous gaze bearing the power to melt her down to a sheer liquid mess, a puddle at his feet like the creaminess soaking her panties right now. She shuddered under his intense scrutiny.
He never let anyone know but her, and he didn’t break a knowing smile. Instead, while one big hand stroked soothingly up and down her body, his gaze shifted downward, focused on her mouth, then up into her eyes again.
Was he seeing the bewilderment she felt inside her body, even now?
He touched her lips with his, light as a snowflake’s landing and fleeting meltdown. Her response was a gasp.
As the music died away, Bryce drew her slowly upright and steadied her. Thank God because Rio’s legs wilted, nearly crumbled beneath her.
He took her hand into his warm grasp, twirled her in two tight circles, finishing their erotic dance, her back flush to his hard chest, his arms wound tightly around her waist. They faced the roar of the crowd through a standing ovation, a call of the wild loud enough to bring down Killer’s roof.
When Bryce lifted her hand and pressed a tender kiss to her wrist, she shivered from the hot contact. But when his warm lips touched the one hypersensitive place behind her ear, Rio thought she would faint.
Certain her legs would indeed hold her, she attempted to step away from a man whose unnatural power ransacked her very being. Bryce held her firmly in place through the second noisy ovation, the room truly vibrating with shrill excitement and unbridled energy.
Finally. Finally, she moved aside. And the ladies went stone berserk.
Rio knew why, but these women would never spoil the exquisite torture she’d experienced minutes ago. An instant later, Bryce released her and strode away. Apparently, they’d ruined it for him.
Slithering down the stairs, she weaved a path through the mass of tables, chairs and women, heading toward the bar, smiling at customers, accepting their lucky-you grins with a yup-I-was smile of her own.
“Ooh, yowza,” Galaxeé said excitedly. “Y’all were too hot up there. Hottest dirt dance I’ve ever seen tear up the stage. You worked it, girl.”
No, not her, and incinerated fit the rocket-ride better, Rio thought. She’d burnt up on reentry. As for Bryce Sullivan, he simply lit the match, watched her burst into flames and kept the fire under his strict control.
“You’re flushed, sweaty. You never perspire in public.”
Rio grabbed a napkin from the bar top. She patted her face, ran it around her neck and over her shoulders. “It’s hot under the lights. Luanne, get me a glass of water, please. No ice.”
“Didn’t seem that hot to me. AC’s running full blast.”
“You weren’t dancing.” Sensuously under spotlights with a hunk. She took the glass from the bartender and gulped down every drop to moisten her dry-as-a-bone throat. Seeing her hand tremble, she set the glass down a little hard.
“None of our boys ever complained.”
“It’s hot, Cecilia. All right?” She didn’t mean to snap the words, but by the look on Galaxeé’s face, she’d made the wrong comment. Flustered when her best friend laughed loudly, Rio realized she’d called her by the name she hadn’t used in years. “Shut up.”
“You busted a nut, didn’t you? It’s written all over your face.” Leaning closer, Galaxeé sniffed. “Oozing from your pores.”
Had they not been friends for thirty-odd years, she would have gladly slapped her partner stupid.
“I knew this would work. I knew it.”
“What the devil are you talking about? What worked?” She’d saved the night. She’d saved Bryce Sullivan from the crowd booing him off the stage. She’d saved their business! That was all.
Until the very end, until she’d made a complete fool out of herself. How could she face him again knowing
