Jeanie London - About That Night...

Her clear gaze never left his as she set her glass on a step above her. The shadows played across her features, a striking study of dark and dusk that bleached all color into soft shades of muted grays.

She seemed almost tentative as she stretched her hand toward his face, and he had the impression again that Jules wasn’t nearly so experienced at seducing strangers as she’d have him believe. Her fingers trembled as they brushed his skin, just a light caress of warm fingertips against his temple, a touch that was less sexy than…reverent.

Nick wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the tender expression softening her beautiful face, but any thought he might have given the subject vanished beneath a savage backlash of reaction to her combination of tentative and tender.

“Kiss me, Jules, or let me kiss you,” he ground out in a voice that held nothing back, though common sense urged him to take it slow.

But to his profound pleasure, her long hair suddenly swung forward, surrounding his face and shoulders in a thick curtain of cool silk that blocked all the shadows from the stage, cocooned them together, parted lips, hot breaths and an incredible attraction for two people who’d just met.

Keeping his hands where they were, one holding hers, thumb stroking the smooth skin of her palm, the other clutching the stem of the flute, he resisted dragging her mouth against his.

He hungered with an intensity he’d never known before, that combination of bold temptress with hints of shy innocent captivated him. Nick usually relied on his control, but it failed him big-time tonight. His breath came raw in his chest, the first taste of her wet velvet mouth shooting his blood south in a painful rush. Her hands held his face lightly, not really to hold him—she must know he wasn’t going anywhere—but more to reassure herself that he was here, waiting, eager to be touched.

Her kiss was inquisitive at first, a cautious exploration of a man she didn’t know. He let her take the lead, though he ached to deepen their kiss, to drive his tongue into her mouth and test the limits of her passion.

She rewarded his restraint as though she knew he held back and darted her tongue across his bottom lip. A light touch, a taste really, but an intimacy that opened the floodgates.

Suddenly her grip tightened and her tongue plunged into his mouth with a demand that stole his breath. Sliding one hand around her neck, he anchored her mouth against his and obliged her. Using his tongue to make her acquaintance, he discovered what made her issue those soft sighs that made him ache to drag her into his lap and grind his erection against her bottom.

Man, could she kiss and Nick was a man who appreciated kissing. He enjoyed making out, building the anticipation, tantalizing and torturing himself with each forward step, with each triumph that wore down a woman’s defenses and made her ache for his touch as he ached for hers.

Jules tested his control, lit fires inside him that Nick knew wouldn’t be doused until he experienced this woman naked with her hair tumbling all around them.

And still he held back, instinctively knowing she needed the control right now, their acquaintance was too new, too intense and he wouldn’t risk frightening her off. With one hand hanging onto hers and the other absurdly clutching his champagne glass, he tangled tongues with this beauty, caught her sighs on his lips and marveled at the effect she had on him.

When she finally drew away and inhaled deeply, Nick’s instinct kicked in, warning that this was his chance to move them to the next step.

“Dance with me.” Setting his glass aside, he got to his feet, not giving her a chance to think, let alone refuse him. “Watching you dance tonight turned me on. I want to feel you in my arms.”

“The orchestra is downstairs partying,” she said breathlessly. “Or maybe not. It’s gotten late.”

The instant her foot touched the stage, he swung her into his arms. “I’ll provide the music. I can’t really sing, but I’m a helluva hummer.”

Jules giggled, and his last glimpse as he bent his head low to her ear was of her eyes alight with laughter. Then he began humming some show tune that had stuck in his head from tonight’s performance and she melted against him.

The dark auditorium faded away and Nick knew only the sound of his voice and Jules—her scent, her graceful movements and the way her body molded his. She fitted against all his pressure points as if her incredible body had been designed for his pleasure. He could rest his chin right on the top of her head. Her shoulder fit snugly beneath his arm. Her breasts pressed against his chest, full and perfect in their red leather prison, taunting him to offer escape. And by flexing his arm around her waist, he held her close, imprisoning his erection against her warm stomach.

He sighed. She sighed.

Two bodies in perfect accord, the fact they’d just met of little concern. This woman was meant to be in his arms at this moment. Nick knew on a primitive level, knew with every inhalation of her subtly spicy scent and the way that scent filtered through his senses, priming his libido, making him forget everything but how much he wanted her.

Eventually his humming gave way to the sounds of their breathing and the soft shuffle of their feet across the wood-beam stage floor. Any sense of time vanished beneath an insistent need to stroke his arousal against her, take advantage of the way she parted her thighs and gently rode his thigh as they danced.

Nick even forgot they were in a theater, a public theater where a hundred people partied in the basement directly below. Apparently Jules was also so caught up that she forgot, too, because when Dale’s voice echoed through the empty auditorium, “Hey, buddy, are you in here?” she appeared as surprised as he.

Fortunately they were close enough to the wings to disappear offstage before Dale caught them. Drawing her behind the main curtain, he held her close, his pulse quickening with adrenaline matched by the sudden hammering of Jules’s heartbeat—hard, even beats he felt right through his tux jacket.

“I think you lost track of time because the party’s over.” Dale’s voice rang out, louder as he approached the stage. “Time to go home. The caterers are done cleaning and they’re locking up. Madam President thinks you took off without saying goodbye, and she’s miffed. Better have Betty send her some flowers tomorrow.”

Silence. Nick wasn’t leaving, not when he had Jules in his arms and this theater to himself.

“If you’re still in here, I hope you can get back out again,” Dale tried again. “If you don’t show your face for coffee in the morning, I’ll send out the posse.”

The footsteps receded, then finally faded into silence.

“Can we get back out again?” Jules whispered.

Nick seized the opportunity to reassure her with a kiss. “I’ve got a key, beautiful. But I won’t use it until I’m done making you sigh with pleasure.”

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