Breaching His Defenses - Allyson Lindt (best short novels .TXT) 📗

variety of witty openers—or maybe they weren’t so witty and that was why she was hesitating—flitted through her thoughts.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen.” The KJ’s voice blended with the closing strains of a falsetto version of “Made in the USA” they’d just been subjected to. “Apparently our sexiest couple of the evening wants to do an encore performance for us.”

Mikki was still processing the words when Jared’s, “They wouldn’t,” cut into her thoughts. “Nope, they did.” There was no irritation in his tone, and amusement danced on his face.

Her mouth drew into an O, and then a small laugh slipped out. “They mean us?”

He held up his phone with a text message on the screen from someone named “T.” You’re up again.

His friends must have set them up for another round. Boldness spurred by lust spiked through her. She hopped to her feet, intertwined her fingers with his, and tugged him back toward the stage. “We can’t let our fans down.”

He raised an eyebrow, and for a moment it looked like he might argue. Her pulse skipped when he fell into step beside her instead. “All right. But after this song is finished, I pick the next one, and you’d better keep up.”

A new energy surged inside at the suggestion they’d be spending at least two more songs together. Her lips hummed in anticipation. “Me?” No way was she passing up that opportunity. She stepped in front of him on the stage. “Is that a challenge?”

He winked and took his spot next to her as the opening strands of “Close My Eyes Forever” by Lita Ford and Ozzy Osborne filled the room. “Take it however you’d like. Just keep making me look good.”

True to his word, when they finished, he stopped by the KJ’s booth and lined them up for another song. Because it was a weeknight, the bar was mostly empty. So twenty minutes later, they were on stage again. She lost track of time as they stepped in every few songs and picked new duets each time, alternating who got to choose. His taste ran softer than hers, and he seemed to prefer the classics from the eighties, but he didn’t have any trouble falling into the tracks she picked.

It had to have been hours later when “This Mess We’re In”—PJ Harvey and Thom Yorke—filled the room. He stood close, like he had every song, gaze locked on hers, never once glancing at the prompter, as he sang about looking each other in the eye directly, meeting on a Wednesday, and the mess they were in.

She pressed into him, sliding along his frame with lyrics of dreaming of making love and impossible dreams. Her nipples tightened each time he drew near.

His fingers glided up her spine as they moved into the last chorus, with her speaking the words and him singing about never changing or meeting again. The feather-light touch dragged her longing to the surface, and her skin tingled, begging to feel more of him. Each word sank deeper into her soul, drawing her into the moment as if she were living it.

The surreal, seductive feeling lingered as the last strains of the music faded from the speakers, not disrupted by the applause filling the room. She stood toe to toe with him, gaze locked on his, her breathing heavy and face hot. This time she didn’t fumble when he led her from the stage. He steered her out of the main flow of traffic, waving off the KJ to indicate they were done.

“I need to stop for the night.” He navigated them toward the bar again.

“If you’re getting tired.” She winced at the raw rasp in her voice.

His hand rested at the base of her neck, and her breath caught at the spark that ran though her. His thumb traced up her throat so lightly she wondered if she was just imagining it. His voice was low, and a current of something she couldn’t identify lined his teasing. “Thanks. My voice is a little worn out.”

She nodded at the empty table behind him where his friends had been sitting at the beginning of the night. “I think you were abandoned.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and with a few swipes, showed her the screen. It was another message from T. Bailing. Tables are calling my name.

“Did you see that come in?” That meant no one was waiting on him now. And the message had a time stamp of almost two hours ago. So had he intentionally given them some alone time? The realization heated her further.

He shrugged and pocketed the device. “I was having fun.”

“You’ve got a nice voice.” Why had she said that? Of all the witty, flirty, intelligent things she could have come up with, a weak nicety passed her lips instead. The fact that his hand still rested on her neck must be short-circuiting her thoughts.

He tilted closer, stopping when his head was just inches from hers. “I was going to say something similar.” He was near enough the faint spice of his aftershave filled her head again. “You’ve got incredible vocal cords.” He dipped his head, hot breath brushing her ear.

The haze of the song still enveloped her. His nearness pushed a wave of want through her, and the suggestion in his very movement clenched in her belly and traveled lower. His breath on her skin enhanced her already rampant fantasies.

“I’ve got other skills besides singing.” Instead of the seductive innuendo she’d intended, her voice came out as a shy whisper, and she hid a cringe.

“I bet.”

She realized she was leaning into him and didn’t pull away. Hesitation thrummed through her at what she was about to do, but this was one of those moments she couldn’t let get away from her. A random, foolish, completely tempting, once-in-a-lifetime chance. “Do you ever think about the lyrics when you sing along?”

His brows rose, question dancing in his expression. “Sometimes…”

She tried to be subtle about taking a deep breath. It had been ages since she’d worried this much about the words coming out of her mouth. She forced a wash of courage through her veins and let the question roll. “It makes me wonder what it would be like to make love while the sun sets over the city.”

She’d managed to ask without her voice cracking. Slick need ached between her thighs. A tiny nagging in the back of her head pointed out this might not be her best idea ever. Something about being neighbors at the tradeshow, and working for competing companies.

Which was laugh-worthy. There was no way she wanted to walk away from a chance like this.

A frown crossed his face, and her gut sank. “I’m from out of town.”

That doesn’t sound like a no. And his hands still rested at her waist. “We met in a hotel. So am I.”

“I don’t do things like this.” His words didn’t match his actions. His eyes stayed locked on hers, and his palm slid toward her back, drawing her closer.

“Duets in karaoke bars?” She let her growing hope keep her question light. Even his low, smooth tone made her think he was more interested than his words indicated.

His breathing quickened. “One-night stands.”

“Me neither.” She risked stepping closer, and her pulse threatened to race away when his thumbs pressed into her hips, holding her captive. “But I figure sometimes you have to make an exception.”

His fingers stroked small circles along her back. “I don’t make exceptions, either.”

Then she wasn’t the only one this was a night of firsts for. The idea sent tingles from her fingers, through her entire body, and down to her toes. She dipped her head in. He smelled incredible up close, like musk and fresh rain. She let herself fall into the scent as she whispered, “That’s why it’s called an exception. Because you don’t normally do it.”

His lips moved along her neck, never touching her, but making her blood roar in response. “You make a good case. And I’ll admit, you’re absolutely intoxicating.”

No one had ever described her like that before. Something between a giggle and a sigh bubbled up inside, and she swallowed it back. Don’t lose it now. “So what’s stopping you from sating the curiosity?”

His mouth twisted into a hungry smile that stole the last of her reason. “Nothing, apparently.”