Searching for Beautiful(76)

The shocks were coming faster and more frequently now. Moments when their eyes met and heat surged between them, leaving him weak. What was happening between them? Every night he lay on the couch, battling sleep and imagining her in bed. Cotton nightgown twisted around her thighs. Lips parted and moist as she breathed. Those beautiful corkscrew curls falling wildly over the pillow.

He was beginning to wonder if he’d sleep better in the car.

Wolfe used to be able to put his hands on her without fuss. He’d grab her around the hips and tickle her ribs, which she despised. He’d ruffle and tug on her hair. Wrap his arms around her for a big bear hug. Sure, they’d always had a connection, but the tiny simmer had exploded into a wildfire, and he didn’t know what the hell to do. What had changed? And why did he suddenly want so much more?

She must’ve reached the same conclusion, because she forced a smile and spoke with fake cheer. “Thanks for the defense, friend.” She subtly emphasized the word as if reminding both of them their true relationship. For his sake? Or hers?

He smiled back. “Anytime. Friend.”

They both turned and listened to the music. The band was pretty good, able to crank out a variety of alternative and some recognizable pop songs without sounding like karaoke. Gen swayed her hips and mouthed the words. She’d always been a great dancer, able to throw herself into the music and the moment without caring how she looked. A strange ache fluttered from his gut. What would it feel like to claim her, man to woman, rather than friend to friend? Would she explode in bed like she did in the daylight, full of energy and joy and determination to wring the most out of the moment?

The man who held her heart for keeps needed to be extraordinary. Needed to match the same inner lightness she exhibited in her soul. The memories flashed hard and painful. Wolfe scratched absently at his leather wristband, accepting he’d never be that man, never be good enough for her.

At least he’d protect her.

Even from himself.

A fierce possession reared up. Gen belonged to the world of the living; of beautiful things; of a future filled with happiness and babies and domestic bliss. This time, he’d make sure she chose correctly.

The music slowed to a moody ballad, and the pink-haired singer launched into some classic pop song he vaguely remembered from the radio. His voice held a rich baritone, lending an air of smoky nightclub atmosphere. Night folded around them, battling the blinding lights from the stage. Stars exploded in the sky. The air was heavy with the scent of popcorn, cotton candy, and damp grass. Couples began to dance near picnic blankets, bodies entwining and moving slowly together.

He blinked when she held out her hand. Her eyes yearned for something big, something he desperately wanted to give her but knew he didn’t have. Wolfe fought the lump in his throat and opened his mouth to make some excuse to bolt.

“Dance with me.”

Her voice echoed the singer’s. Low. Raspy. Seductive. He meant to say no.

Instead, he took her hand and pulled her into his arms.

Home.

The warm comfort of familiarity mingled with the spark of sex. She didn’t just fit into him, she completely consumed his space, stealing his breath and cells and heart. Wolfe held himself back, battling for distance her presence wouldn’t allow. Full breasts pressed against his chest. Thigh brushed thigh. The scent of peach shampoo drifted up, reminding him of sweet juices and the first delicious bite into flesh. An animal moan rose up from his chest, ready to escape his lips in an agony of need.

Words of unfulfilled longing filled the air in the seductive tone of the singer. The low beat of drums and guitar in the background added to the scene. Back from the crowd, trapped in darkness, they were alone in the world. With a sorceress’s skill, Gen wove her feminine essence around him simply by surrendering to his embrace.

He gave up the fight. Just this once.

Burying his face in her curls, he grabbed her waist and pulled her tight, his growing erection trapped between their bodies. She gasped. Wolfe wondered if she’d move away, stop the dangerous game they flirted with, but once again she surprised him. Wrapping her arms tight around his back, she arched into him full power.

He gritted his teeth against the sweet ache of need. His feet moved in a faint parody of dancing, allowing each body part to touch, tease, and slide against one another. Fingers dug into him, urging him on. Wolfe ached to slide his hand under her shorts, under her panties, and dive in. Could he scent her musky arousal or was that just his mind fantasizing? She shuddered. Oh yeah, she was wet, and needy, and wanting . . . him.

His lips had a mind of their own. He dipped his head and tasted the soft crease where her shoulder met her neck. Like powdered sugar, he craved more. His teeth nibbled on her collarbone, and she made a low, hungry noise.