Excerpt:
As she watched
the band, the conga player caught her attention. His short dreadlocks
bounced in rhythm as he played. The muscles underneath the caramel skin
of his forearms flexed tantalizingly. His hands danced over the drum,
creating a pulsing beat that sang in her blood.
She caught him
watching her. Looking directly at him, she danced more suggestively,
slowing the movement of her hips.
Sparks
sizzled in her blood in a way they hadn't with the useless ex nor when
she'd ogled the guys on the beach. Now, she imagined his long fingers
dancing over her body, plucking her nipples, stroking her breasts. As
she danced, she slid her palms down her sides, imagining he was touching
her.
When he smiled,
white teeth gleamed in contrast to his toasty skin. She tossed her head
so her hair swirled, then she grinned back. His eyes widened and he
skipped a beat. He quickly averted his gaze and attended to his drum,
but the smile still curved his firm, sensual lips.
Her movements
more languid now, she imagined those lips kissing her, starting with her
mouth and traveling the length of her body to her toes and working his
way up to her pussy.
It was a good
thing the band took a break at the end of the song, because she was
about to have an orgasm right in the middle of the dance floor. She
returned to her table, her skin damp from dancing and her bikini thong
wet from her fantasies about conga boy.
She ordered
another frou-frou juice drink, and as the waitress set it in front of
her, conga boy slid into the seat beside her.
"I hope you
don't mind." He smiled, showing a dimple in one cheek. "And, Kalisa,
please bring me whatever dat is she is drinkin'," he said to the
waitress.
His voice
matched his caramel skin, all warm and rich and sweet with a spicy
island lilt. His silky cotton shirt, open nearly to his waist, revealed
a muscled chest and lean stomach. She wondered it he'd notice if she
shoved the fabric aside and ran her hands over his cinnamon skin.
"Not at all."
Was that her voice? All husky and ready for the bedroom.
"I am hoping
you wouldn't. I'm Daryn, by the way."
"I'm Merrie."
He grinned, and
she knew what was coming next.
"Merry
Christmas."
"Want to guess
how many times I've heard that this time of year?"
"Sorry. I
couldn't resist."
She laughed.
"Most people can't. Especially since it's spelled M-e-r-r-i-e."
"Merrie," he
said her name again. The lilt in his voice rolled off his tongue, making
her name sound exotic. He grinned and sipped his drink. "Look, I'm going
to have to get back to the band. The next set is our las' one. Would you
like to hang out together after?"
She paused just
long enough so she didn't appear desperately eager, but she had no
intention of resisting. "Sure."
"Great." He
brushed her arm with his long fingers. Electricity sparked along her
nerve endings, setting her blood sizzling.
Good thing she
was sitting down or she'd have fallen over from the lust attack. She
hoped he was thinking more along the lines of hooking up rather than
merely hanging out.
Must be
something in the tropical air that had her thinking this way. Normally,
she wanted to be friends before becoming lovers. Heat washed over her as
she thought about reversing the process.
