Burning Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page B

dance?”
    The soft, sweet voice, nearly obliterated by the music, pulled him back to present. She was talking to him. Had she asked him to dance? No, just if he did.
    “Not to this stuff.”
    They weren’t line dancing, but most were kicking up their boots to the twangy song.
    He gestured to the dance floor with his bottle. “You?”
    “Only the slow songs.”
    He wasn’t going to get in her face and drop a lame line or offer to buy her a drink. Or check her out. Well, not in an obvious way. He pretended to scope out the place while taking her in with his peripheral vision. The Cheap Trick song “She’s Tight” came to mind, though it was quickly buried under the song, something slower now.
    She threw back her shot, licking her hand and squeezing the lime into her mouth. Damn, he wanted to lick off the drop of juice that dripped down her jaw. Now he felt right about offering to buy her a drink.
    Before he could, she turned to him. “Dance with me.”
    Not quite an order, and not a request either. He hated slow dancing with a woman he’d just met. Where to put his hands, how close to hold her, and for God’s sake don’t stomp on her feet.
    He set his bottle on the bar. “How can I refuse?”
    She stood, and he took her hand and led her to a dance floor that was rapidly crowding in with couples. She moved into his arms, not a damned thing about her cold. Her movements were a bit awkward, telling him she didn’t like slow dancing as much as she’d said. Small, brightly colored rings circled her right upper ear but not her left. The big red hoops that hung from her lobes brushed against her neck as they moved. He was way too tall for her, his hands coming down on her shoulders, leaving her hands to wrap around his waist.
    Which felt good. He willed his cock not to jump to attention, but it didn’t listen, as usual. She had to feel it, but she didn’t move back. He looked down at her, but she stared straight ahead at his chest. She was worrying her lips. Probably feeling his erection. She met his gaze and smiled, but he saw nervousness in her big brown eyes.
    She said, “I have a bottle of tequila back at my hotel room.”
    Whoa . He actually stopped moving. Had he heard her right?
    “Tequila works for me.”
    “I don’t want you to think I’m cheap. It’s just . . . I could use some company. Know what I mean?”
    He had to keep the words Hell, yes from roaring out of him.
    She’d stopped moving, too. “I swear I’ve never done this before.”
    He saw something in her eyes, maybe that need, pain, but not desperation. Without another word he took her hand and led her from the dance floor. The guy who’d warned him about her now gaped as they wound their way through the crowd toward the door.
    This seemed too easy. They’d hardly traded smoldering looks, casual conversation, or even names. They exited the building into the cool night.
    “I’m Eric,” he said.
    She covered her mouth. “God, we haven’t even told each other our names. You must think I’m a—”
    He kissed her word away. She tasted like tequila, musky and rich, with a hint of lime and salt. Beneath the smoke he smelled a clean scent, like soap. She looked fragile, despite her bold request.
    “I don’t think you’re an anything.”
    She looked away at that, swallowing hard. “Follow me. I’m staying at a little motel down the road. I was going to head back to D.C.—I went to Annapolis on business—but I wasn’t ready to go home.”
    “You wouldn’t happen to be married, would you?” he asked as he followed her to a deep yellow 1976 Mustang.
    A shadow crossed her eyes, which was why he was surprised when she said, “Widowed.”
    Damn. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
    “No, it’s okay.”
    It was only then that he thought of his succubus. Hadn’t she insinuated that she belonged to the soul of a lonely woman?
    She paused beside her door. “Would you have backed off if I was married?”
    “Depends on the situation,