Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (bill gates best books TXT) 📗

tails just beneath her breasts, leaving her midriff bare—something she never did in public.

But tonight all bets were off. Tonight, Emma Blake was throwing off the restricting mantle of her life and finding out what was on the other side.

The band finished the song, launched immediately into another one, and Emma continued to gyrate with the crowd, hips thrusting, feet moving, throwing back her head the way her bass player did.

Her bass player?

But that was how she viewed him—this man on stage who was sex personified. She would have imagined doing all kinds of wicked things with him, if she’d know enough wicked things to do. She danced in place, arms waving, tossing her head, and wiggling her hips in a suggestive fashion. The Emma she knew disappeared, left behind in the erotic atmosphere of the dark club and the pulse-pounding music.

By the time the last song of the last set ended, she was both exhausted and exhilarated, her body vibrating with arousal. Her gaze had locked with the bass player’s each time he’d stared out into the audience. Now, as the band broke down the stage and put away their instruments, she saw him snap his guitar case shut and unexpectedly turn to face her. The coil of lust unwinding in her belly was so intense it shocked her.

She should follow the rest of the crowd out of the club, but she wanted to watch him until the last possible moment and store every image into her mind. At last reluctantly realizing she was the only person left, she walked slowly out into the parking lot. She could still hear the music in her head, still feel that thump thump thump that throbbed in all her erogenous zones. Still see the come-fuck-me look in the bass player’s eyes.

Emma dragged her feet as she headed toward her car, not wanting the magic of the night to end, and nearly screamed when a hand touched her shoulder.

“It’s me.” The voice was low, almost a soft growl.

She turned and there he was, scant inches away from her, his masculinity almost overpowering her, the sound of his voice still echoing through her, mesmerizing her. The light in the parking lot cast a halo around him; the glow reflected in the dark irises of his eyes.

“Oh!” was all she could think to say.

“I saw you watching me.” The words were like a caress sliding over her skin.

“I-I like your music.”

His smile was almost feral. “Maybe you’ll like this, too.”

His hands slid up to cup her face and when his mouth touched hers, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to respond. He licked the closed seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, a feathery touch that sent shivers skating along her spine. Her legs wobbled and she wrapped her fingers around his wrists to hang on, feeling the hard muscle and sinew beneath her fingertips.

He kissed her slowly, a languid movement as if he’d devoted himself to nothing else but seducing her mouth. And the rest of her along with it. His tongue moved back and forth in soft, gentle strokes, finally pressing a little harder until she opened for him. When he thrust inside, the effect was like an electric shock through her system. Her mind blanked, her only focus on the reactions stirring inside her body. He licked and plunged and savored, all the while holding her face in the warmth of his palms. The beating pulse in her womb ratcheted up, and her breasts felt full and swollen.

She had a sudden sensation the world was spinning in slow motion before it stopped dead on its axis. Fire raged instantly to life between them.

When he lifted his head, she was dizzy with sensation. Those dark coffee eyes locked with hers, sending her silent, erotic messages.

He touched his lips to her ear. “Come home with me.”

A shiver of delicious anticipation shimmied over her skin and without a moment of hesitation, she said, “Okay.”

Chapter Two

Marc Malone couldn’t believe his luck. This kind of thing never happened to him before. Despite the perception people had of musicians, women weren’t exactly dropping into his lap. At least not like this one. Not that he was celibate or anything, just a lot pickier than others. And this one was something special. He knew it from the moment he spotted her. There was a freshness to her, a unique appeal that he didn’t see in most of the women who came to Aftershock.

Which was why he passed on most of them.

When this one caught his eye, she had the look of a fish out of water, stiff and self-conscious, not quite sure what to do with herself. Brand new to the club, or he definitely would have noticed her before. He could tell the moment the music captured her, visibly loosening a constricting coil wound inside her. First her feet began to move, tentatively, as if she was unsure what to do. Then the hips bumped a little from side to side. When she shook her hair free and knotted her blouse beneath the breasts, he couldn’t stop staring. He had to shift to stand with his foot on the monitor again until his sudden hard-on cooled down.

He kept expecting her to leave after each song ended, but she stayed hemmed in by the crowd, hips gyrating, head thrown back. Those sizzling moments when their gazes locked, he had the feeling she was looking directly into his soul. His entire body went on full alert, and his heart turned over. He felt like a sugar junkie lusting after candy. The need to see her and talk to her grabbed him like a giant fist. He had to find out who she was. How she’d happened to show up at Aftershock when he’d never seen her there before.

Following her into the parking lot had been a real risk. She could have slapped his face or worse yet, called the cops. The invitation