Brenda Jackson - Westmoreland Desires - Riding the Storm / Jared's Counterfeit Fiancée / The Chase Is On

His gaze shifted to her mouth and he couldn’t help but take in their proximity to his. All he had to do was inch a little closer and—

“You smell good, Storm.”

He inhaled deeply and slowly shook his head. She could say the damnedest things at times. They should be concentrating on small talk that was socially acceptable for platonic friends and not the sultry murmurings of lovers. “Thanks, but you shouldn’t say that to me.”

“Why not? If you can tell me that you like holding me, then I should be able to tell you that I think you smell good.”

His hands were around her waist, holding her tight, and her arms were draped about his neck. The music playing was slow and their bodies were barely moving. He knew it and she knew it, as well. He was also certain that she was aware that he was aroused. With her body so close to his, there was no way that she didn’t know it.

He wanted her to feel all of him and pulled her closer into his arms. Automatically, she placed her head against his chest and he closed his eyes as they swayed to the sound of the music. If she thought he smelled good, then he thought likewise about her. The scent of her perfume was intoxicating, seductive and a total turn-on. Moments later, the music faded and they stopped dancing, but he refused to release her. He needed to continue to hold her in his arms.

Jayla lifted her face and met Storm’s gaze. The look in his eyes was intense and purely sexual. “I should try and continue to fight this,” he said as if the words were being forced from him. She could clearly understand what he meant.

She did. “Don’t fight it,” she said softly.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re not helping matters, Jayla.” His words were a low growl in her ear.

She narrowed her eyes right back at him. “Why should I?”

He stared at her for a long time. Then he glanced around. It seemed they were the center of attention. He looked back at her. “But you deserve more than just—”

“A one-night stand? Shouldn’t I be the one to make that decision, Storm? I’m twenty-six-years old. I work and pay my own bills. I’m a woman, not a child, and it’s time you realized that.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then said, “I just did.” He tightened his hand on hers and tugged her along with him out of the club.

* * *

“Where are we going?” Jayla asked, almost out of breath as she tried keeping up with Storm’s long strides as he tried hailing a cab.

“Back to the hotel.”

A few moments later, Storm cursed. There were few cabs around and the ones he saw were already occupied. He glanced across the street and saw a parked horse-drawn coach. Evidently, someone had used it for a wedding and it reminded him of the coach that might be used as a prop in Cinderella. “Come on,” he said, keeping a firm hold on Jayla’s hand.

They quickly crossed the street and approached the driver, who was holding the reins to keep the horses from prancing. “We need a ride back to the Sheraton Hotel on Canal,” Storm said, nearly out of breath.

The old man raised a bushy brow. “My rates are by the hour.”

“Fine, just get us there quick and in one piece.”

The driver nodded his head, indicating that he understood. Storm then turned and opened the carriage door. When Jayla lifted her leg to climb inside, Storm swept her into his arms and placed her inside on the seat. He then climbed in and shut the door.

As the coach lurched forward, anticipation and sexual desire the likes he had never known before gripped him and he could think of only one thing that could relax him.

He paused, wondering if he had lost his mind and then quickly decided that he had. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He would worry about the consequences of his actions tomorrow. He was too far gone tonight.

He glanced over at Jayla where she sat on the other side of the seat. The interior lighting provided him with barely enough illumination to see her features, but he heard her breathing and it was coming out as erratic as his own.

“Come here, Jayla.”

She met his gaze before sliding across the seat to him. He curved his hand about her neck and drew her to him. Leaning forward, he captured the lips he had been dying to taste for over ten years. He took possession and staked his claim. He couldn’t help himself.

He felt the shiver that flowed from her body to his when she surrendered her tongue to his. He took his time to savor what she offered, relentlessly mating his mouth with hers as he tried to satisfy what seemed to be an endless hunger. Her taste was like a drug and he felt himself getting addicted to it as his controls were pushed to the limit, wanting more and determined to get it. He lapped up every moan she made while glorying in the feel of her kissing him back.

He deepened the kiss and she proved that she could handle him, tongue for tongue, lick for lick, stroke for stroke. It seemed that he had also tapped a hunger inside of her that she hadn’t fed in a while. He intensified the kiss, knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

They felt a jolt when the coach came to a stop and they broke off the kiss, pulling apart. He glanced out the window, then glanced back at her. They were at the hotel. Would she change her mind or would they finish what they’d started?

Knowing the decision was hers, he leaned over and placed a kiss on her lips. “What do you want, Jayla?” he asked, his breath hot and ragged against her ear. He hoped and prayed that she wanted the same thing that he did.

He watched as a smile touched her lips. She then reached out to run her hand down his chest, past his waist to settle firmly on his arousal that was pressing hard through his pants.

He swallowed hard, almost forgetting to breathe. His mind was suddenly filled with scenes of all the things he wanted to do to her.

She met his gaze and in a soft voice whispered, “I want you to make love to me, Storm.”

Storm’s knuckles gently brushed across Jayla’s cheeks just moments before his mouth descended on hers. The words she’d just spoken were what he wanted to hear, and at that moment he needed to taste her again.

He was swamped with conflicting emotions. A part of him wanted to pull back, unable to forget she was Adam’s daughter, but then another part of him accepted and acknowledged what she’d said was true. She was old enough to make her own decisions. Even Adam had pretty much conceded that before he’d died.

He slowly, reluctantly, broke off the kiss and took a deep breath. Her eyes glinted with intense desire and he was suddenly filled with a dangerously high degree of anticipation to give her everything she wanted and needed. Without saying a word, he took her hand. Together, they got out of the coach and went into the hotel. The walk across the lobby to the elevator seemed endless, and all Storm could think about was what he would do to her once they were alone. That short dress she was wearing had driven him crazy all night. More than once, his gaze had been drawn to her bare legs, legs he wanted wrapped around him while they made love.

“My room or yours,” he asked, moments before the elevator door swooshed open before them.

Their eyes met and held. “Whichever one is closest,” she said as desire continued to flicker in her eyes.

“That would be yours.”

They stepped into the elevator and after the door closed behind them, he leaned against the wall. They were alone and he tightened his hands by his side. The temptation to pull her into his arms and devour her mouth again was unbearable, and when she swept the tip of her tongue nervously across her top lip, his stomach clenched and he swore beneath his breath.