Joy Ride (2 page)

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 tails just beneath her breasts, leaving her midriff bare—something she never did in public.

But tonight all bets were off. Tonight, Emma Blake was throwing off the restricting mantle of her life and finding out what was on the other side.

The band finished the song, launched immediately into another one, and Emma continued to gyrate with the crowd, hips thrusting, feet moving, throwing back her head the way her bass player did.

Her
bass player?

But that was how she viewed him—this man on stage who was sex personified. She would have imagined doing all kinds of wicked things with him, if she’d know enough wicked things to do. She danced in place, arms waving, tossing her head, and wiggling her hips in a suggestive fashion. The Emma she knew disappeared, left behind in the erotic atmosphere of the dark club and the pulse-pounding music.

By the time the last song of the last set ended, she was both exhausted and exhilarated, her body vibrating with arousal. Her gaze had locked with the bass player’s each time he’d stared out into the audience. Now, as the band broke down the stage and put away their instruments, she saw him snap his guitar case shut and unexpectedly turn to face her. The coil of lust unwinding in her belly was so intense it shocked her.

She should follow the rest of the crowd out of the club, but she wanted to watch him until the last possible moment and store every image into her mind. At last reluctantly realizing she was the only person left, she walked slowly out into the parking lot. She could still hear the music in her head, still feel that
thump thump thump
that throbbed in all her erogenous zones. Still see the come-fuck-me look in the bass player’s eyes.

Emma dragged her feet as she headed toward her car, not wanting the magic of the night to end, and nearly screamed when a hand touched her shoulder.

“It’s me.” The voice was low, almost a soft growl.

She turned and there he was, scant inches away from her, his masculinity almost overpowering her, the sound of his voice still echoing through her, mesmerizing her. The light in the parking lot cast a halo around him; the glow reflected in the dark irises of his eyes.

“Oh!” was all she could think to say.

“I saw you watching me.” The words were like a caress sliding over her skin.

“I-I like your music.”

His smile was almost feral. “Maybe you’ll like this, too.”

His hands slid up to cup her face and when his mouth touched hers, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to respond. He licked the closed seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, a feathery touch that sent shivers skating along her spine. Her legs wobbled and she wrapped her fingers around his wrists to hang on, feeling the hard muscle and sinew beneath her fingertips.

He kissed her slowly, a languid movement as if he’d devoted himself to nothing else but seducing her mouth. And the rest of her along with it. His tongue moved back and forth in soft, gentle strokes, finally pressing a little harder until she opened for him. When he thrust inside, the effect was like an electric shock through her system. Her mind blanked, her only focus on the reactions stirring inside her body. He licked and plunged and savored, all the while holding her face in the warmth of his palms. The beating pulse in her womb ratcheted up, and her breasts felt full and swollen.

She had a sudden sensation the world was spinning in slow motion before it stopped dead on its axis. Fire raged instantly to life between them.

When he lifted his head, she was dizzy with sensation. Those dark coffee eyes locked with hers, sending her silent, erotic messages.

He touched his lips to her ear. “Come home with me.”

A shiver of delicious anticipation shimmied over her skin and without a moment of hesitation, she said, “Okay.”

Chapter Two

Marc Malone couldn’t believe his luck. This kind of thing never happened to him before. Despite the perception people had of musicians, women weren’t exactly dropping into his lap. At least not like this one. Not that he was celibate or anything, just a lot pickier than others. And this one was something special. He knew it from the moment he spotted her. There was a freshness to her, a unique appeal that he didn’t see in most of the women who came to Aftershock.

Which was why he passed on most of them.

When this one caught his eye, she had the look of a fish out of water, stiff and self-conscious, not quite sure what to do with herself. Brand new to the club, or he definitely would have noticed her before. He could tell the moment the music captured her, visibly loosening a constricting coil wound inside her. First her feet began to move, tentatively, as if she was unsure what to do. Then the hips bumped a little from side to side. When she shook her hair free and knotted her blouse beneath the breasts, he couldn’t stop staring. He had to shift to stand with his foot on the monitor again until his sudden hard-on cooled down.

He kept expecting her to leave after each song ended, but she stayed hemmed in by the crowd, hips gyrating, head thrown back. Those sizzling moments when their gazes locked, he had the feeling she was looking directly into his soul. His entire body went on full alert, and his heart turned over. He felt like a sugar junkie lusting after candy. The need to see her and talk to her grabbed him like a giant fist. He had to find out who she was. How she’d happened to show up at Aftershock when he’d never seen her there before.

Following her into the parking lot had been a real risk. She could have slapped his face or worse yet, called the cops. The invitation to come home with him had been issued impulsively, just like the kiss. He could hardly believe she’d accepted both, her response shocking him. Bad girls were only too willing to acquire what he thought of as a badge of honor fuck. Good girls usually ran as if they’d been courted by the devil. But it seemed the magic had reached out to this woman as it had to him.

He kept glancing in his rear view mirror to make sure she was still behind him. Yeah, those were her headlights.

For the first time in a long time, he was nervous. He tried to remember if his place—the little house he’d bought last year—was clean. Were there dirty clothes lying around? Dirty dishes? Did he have fresh sheets on the bed? Should he offer her wine first? Did he even have any?

And then he was turning the corner onto his street.

Okay, buddy boy. Here we go. Don’t fuck this up
.

***

I’m doing it! I’m really doing it! Going home with this man who rocked my world.

God! I can’t believe this!

It wasn’t the beer. It wasn’t even the spurt of rebellion, or the choking frustration of her existence that had her following the black Jeep Cherokee through the quiet streets of the city. She could have gone into that club, listened to the music, tasted a new and different slice of life and gone home, hugging it to her like a treasured secret. No, it was the bass player. He’d looked out at her with his stormy eyes and an invisible but powerful connection had been forged.

This was the most daring thing she’d ever done.

All kinds of possibilities ran through her mind. She wasn’t dumb. Only an idiot would be completely unaware of what he had in mind. He was a musician, right? Her knowledge of his world was limited but she read all the gossip magazines. She was torn between a desire to step off a ledge into the unknown and fear that the fall would be more than she could handle. If she was smart she’d get away. Run back to her safe little world.

Yet she couldn’t make herself do it. The electricity that zapped between them the moment their eyes connected was bad enough. But the instant collision of senses when they’d kissed in the parking lot had invaded every nerve and muscle. No way could she have just gotten in her car and driven home. Not when temptation beckoned so strongly.

Wait. Are you crazy? What if he’s some kind of mad rapist? Or had a load of drugs stashed in his house? Or…Or what? He calls to you like no other man you’ve ever been with. You secretly wanted this the moment you felt that connection. And remember. You can always leave. Any time
.

She was startled to realize they were driving in her neighborhood. But the street he turned into wasn’t a familiar one. Small bungalows lined both sides of a roadway guarded by ancient oaks. He pulled into a wide driveway, leaving room for her to park next to him. She climbed out of the car on legs not quite steady. This was the first time she’d ever followed a man home in her life, one she barely knew. Was she really about to step into the unknown with him? The thought both excited and terrified her. The same thrill she’d felt taking Mr. Piper’s car for a joy ride all those years ago surfaced now and sparked through her body.

Suddenly seized by an attack of nerves, she looked down to see her hands shaking as she turned off the ignition and dropped her keys into her purse. This was so far outside her comfort zone. What if he wanted more than she could give? What if she said yes to him and wasn’t any good at it? Her experience, especially for someone her age, was embarrassingly limited. Good, safe Andrew was only the third man she’d slept with, and she was pretty sure none of that had prepared her for whatever would happen tonight.

Oh, Andrew
. He’d been the furthest thing from her mind. After tonight there was no going back, even if he wanted her. He was part of the Emma who had run from his house. Now she was filled with the desire to test her wings and her exhilaration was mixed with fear and guilt. For a very brief moment, she was tempted to turn the engine back on, back out into the street, and drive away like a bat out of hell.

What am I doing here?

Emma Blake didn’t go to rock clubs. Didn’t kiss strange men, especially rock musicians. Didn’t go home with them almost the moment after they met. Emma was the quintessential good girl who never did anything the least bit daring.