Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (reading a book TXT) 📕

four bodies totally immersed in the music they were creating. The room was packed with people screaming their approval at the band, bodies so jammed together caught up in the heavy beat filling the room that Emma had trouble inching her way in. Feverish energy crackled in the air, sizzling all around her. So palpable she felt it scorching her skin, and she realized just how appropriate the band’s name was.

Emma stared at the crowd, at the bodies moving suggestively, almost as if they were having sex to music. She’d never seen anything like it and it shocked her to the core. Then a strange heat surged through her own body, and she had trouble catching her breath. Not the suffocating feeling from earlier but something new, something that stimulated every one of her senses. For a moment, she wondered if she had wandered into an alternate universe, one where the outside world ceased to exist.

A drink, that’s what I need. Something to calm her jittery nerves. Wriggling her way to the bar, she ordered a beer. Although she seldom drank, it seemed the easiest thing to order in all the chaos. Anyway, tonight was a night for new experiences, and she didn’t think many of the people in here were drinking diet sodas.

Hardly anyone was seated. Instead, they were all moving their hips, raising their arms as they kept time to the thundering beat of the sound, and focusing on the band cranking out another high-energy song. The melody poured out into the darkened room, each member adding his own chemistry to the mix. Unsure what to do, Emma stood uncomfortably by the bar, holding her drink and listening to the seductive blend of instruments.

She was peripherally aware of the lead guitar’s wail, the husky voice of the lead singer, and the heavy syncopation of the drums. But what captured her attention, sent her pulse pounding, was the heavy thump, thump, thump of the bass vibrating up through her body.

Well, she’d wanted something different. Something a little wild. She’d definitely found it here.

She needed to be closer to the stage, to see who was sending out that beat that echoed from her throbbing core to her breasts, but people were jammed together, filling every inch of space and blocking her view. At five-foot-two and in flat-heeled shoes, there was no way she could see over anyone’s shoulders.

Clutching the cold beer bottle in her hand, she wedged her way between gyrating bodies, hypnotized by the music, until she reached the front of the crowd…and stopped at the edge of the stage, mesmerized. The bass guitarist stood with one foot balanced on the monitor in front of him, his body leaning into the sound. His head was thrown back, dark hair flying around his face as he pounded out the rhythm of the song they were playing. He was wild, uninhibited, totally immersed in his music. He moved with an incredible grace to the accented beat, hips thrusting as his clever fingers plucked the strings and slid on the neck of the guitar.

For one incredible moment, Emma had the feeling he was playing only for her and she realized she really had been struck by “Lightnin’.” Permanently electrified by it.

A surge of heat raced through her, and it wasn’t the kind that emanated from the tightly packed sweaty bodies. Instead, an electric excitement gripped her, sending a charge of unfamiliar sexual thrill to every nerve. Her breasts tingled and between her thighs, she felt a throbbing as deep as the sound of the bass. At first she stood stiffly, clutching her drink. People jostled and shoved her as they kept time to the beat. She took two quick swallows of the beer, grimacing at the bitter taste. But as the alcohol eased her tension, she found herself catching the rhythm of the music and trying to mimic the movements of the bass player—totally caught up in the seductive lure of the song. For one crazy moment, she was gripped by an uncontrollable urge to jump up on the stage, and bump and grind with him. Her! Emma, the good girl!

Clumsily juggling the beer bottle, she slipped the thin strap of her purse over her head so it lay crosswise between her breasts. Her focus still on the bass player, she swayed to the beat, hips moving, rocking. When the song ended, the bass guitarist threw back his head on a final note and then looked out into the crowd, peering beyond the glare of the stage lights.

His eyes seemed to find hers as if pulled by a magnet, and a fist slammed through her.

Ohmigod!

She couldn’t have torn her gaze away from his if someone had paid her. The look on his face was so intense; it was as if a hand had reached out and touched her. Her heart rate sped up, stuttering erratically. In the next moment, the lead guitar laid down the opening bars of the next song, the bass player came in on cue, then the drummer, before the singer belted out the first lines. Again the bass pulsated through her, sending sensual shock waves into every part of her body. There was a raw, untamed feeling to the sound that made inhibitions disappear and excitement rage like an uncontrolled storm. The bass player finally dragged his eyes away from her, but she couldn’t stop staring at him. The way he threw his head back and his hair flew wildly like a thick curtain around his face. His body moved sensually, making love to the music, so caught up in its rhythm that he and his instrument were one.

Emma finished her beer and stuck the empty bottle on the little shelf around one of the support pillars. Barely aware of what she was doing, she undid the clip holding her hair and shook her head, letting the waves cascade past her shoulders. Her hands yanked her blouse out of the waistband of her jeans and she knotted the