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

She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “She told me you and she….”

Marc bit back the anger flaring inside him. “She wishes. Lacey’s used goods. I’m not interested.” He cupped her chin and tilted her face up to his. “In anyone but you.”

The moment his gaze locked with hers, heat flamed between them and the uncertainty on her face was replaced with a hunger he was sure matched the one clawing its way through his body. Glancing at his watch, he saw he still had a few minutes before the next set. He took her hand and led her out of the club to their usual spot at the corner of the parking lot. Before she could say a word, he cradled her head and captured her lips in a predatory kiss.

Jesus, she tasted like a hundred kinds of wonderful

She opened to him at once, surprising him with a need as strong as his own. Her small tongue danced with his, coaxing him to explore every inner surface of her mouth. Her hand slid up his arms to his neck; her fingers threaded into his hair as if she’d never let him go. He closed his eyes and let the intensity of their passion consume him. Everything around them faded away until there was nothing and no one except for him and his Music Lady.

When he finally broke the kiss, his heart was racing, and he was breathing like a long distance runner. Her body was pressed so tightly to his he could feel her heart pounding wildly, and the erratic touch of her breath on his face.

He studied her face, taking in the slumberous look of her eyes and her swollen lips. “I missed you all week. I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.”

“I said I would,” she reminded him.

“I know. But…I mean, I don’t even know how to get a hold of you if you just disappear.”

“I’m not going to disappear,” she assured him.

“But you’re also not going to tell me your name, either.”

“Not…yet.”

He wanted to find the right words to say. He had a bad feeling that whatever poison Lacey had been spewing only underscored the self-doubts she constantly battled. “You know you’re special to me, right?”

“I…I hope so.”

“Well, you are. You can take it to the bank.”

Did she believe him? Believe in them? Despite the new hairstyle, the hot new clothes, the slow releasing of inhibitions, she was still like a little bird poised to take flight at the first sign of danger. And he worried each time something would frighten her away. He wanted to tell her just how he felt about her. Was it too soon to say “love”? Was that what it was? Could he at least tell her she’d carved a place for herself in his heart, that he saw things in the future for them if they could get past the last of her reservations? He didn’t know if she was ready to hear the words yet, not when she still guarded her identity the way she did. Besides, he wanted a silent but unqualified commitment from her first. He wasn’t about to expose himself to a woman who could disappear like smoke and never return.

And how am I going to get around that?

He touched his lips to hers again before sliding his hands down from her face and wrapping his arms around her.

“I have something for you.”

She wet her lips. “You do? A present?”

“Sort of. It’s your pass for Sunday night.”

A grin lit up her face. “Really? You actually got me a pass?”

He frowned. “Did you think I wouldn’t? I gave you my word.” There was the old trust issue again. He wondered if it had more to do with past experiences or her hesitation in a new environment. No question, he was miles away from any other men she’d been with.

“Do you have it here?” Her eagerness was hard to miss.

An encouraging sign.

“No. It’s at home. You’ll come home with me tonight, right?”

“Of course.” She hugged him. “Did you doubt it?”

Yes.

“Just making sure. Come on. I’ll get you a drink before we start the next set.”

As he walked her into the bar, all he could think of was his impatience for the last set to be finished so he could be alone. With his Music Lady.

***

Emma couldn’t believe how eager she was for both of them to get naked. She remembered how nervous she’d been that very first night, but each time she was with Marc the panicky feeling faded more and more. She’d tested herself by staying away from the club all week, examining her feelings, trying to make sure it wasn’t just the novelty of spectacular sex and the attention of someone in a glamorous industry. A babe magnet who had somehow, someway chosen to be with her.

Part of the old Emma still lingered, feeding her insecurities. In the back of her mind she feared this would all blow up in her face any minute. But she had learned one very important fact during her week of denial—there was no way she could stay away from Marc Malone. Her Guitar Man.

This time the moment the door closed she was the aggressor, the one who grabbed him and kissed him until her senses reeled. Kissed him until neither of them could breathe. She plunged her tongue into his mouth and drank him in.

“Whew! Wow!” Marc pulled away and tilted his head. “Holy shit, ML. Maybe I should insist you stay away more often if this is what happens.”

“No, no, no.” She shook her head, hardly able to believe she was actually behaving this way. But her entire body hummed with need for this man, and she wanted him now. Her fingers trembled as she went to work on his shirt, pushing the buttons through the buttonholes.

“Let’s at least get to the bedroom,” he insisted, lifting her in his arms.

He carried her down the dark hallway. In the bedroom, he flipped