The Choir Director 2 Read Online Free PDF

name, but my mouth betrayed my brain and I told him, “My name’s Tia.” I looked over at Kenya on the dance floor, wishing she would come over and rescue me before I said something stupid to this fine specimen of a man. She was grinding all over the guy on the dance floor, though, so I would have to fly solo.
    “Tia. That’s a very pretty name,” he said with a charming smile that made me want to melt in my seat.
    Michael flagged down the bartender, and three drinks later we were still sitting there talking—or, rather, I was talking. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening my tongue, or the fact that I had just broken up with a man who never seemed to shut up and let me get a word in edgewise. Whichever it was, it was working for us. I talked about the death of my parents and how my brother Kareem had pretty much raised me since I was thirteen—things I normally didn’t like to talk about, but this guy was such a good listener. As time passed, I realized I wouldn’t mind seeing him again.
    Somewhere around one in the morning he asked me to dance, and when we hit the floor, that white boy put me to shame. He had moves on top of moves, and my stiff behind could barely keep up. I mean, he could really freakin’ dance. After I made a fool out of myself for about twenty minutes next to this John Travolta clone, the DJ slowed the tempo down and put on a slow jam. I was about to walk off the floor in shame, but Michael took my hand and pulled me in close. I didn’t resist. It felt good to wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and lean my head on his chest.
    This trip to the club had been the perfect way to take my mind off of the day’s events. I was really enjoying myself. I glanced up at Michael and smiled, and to my pleasant surprise, he leaned down and kissed me, ever so gently pressing his soft lips against mine. As his tongue slipped into my mouth, I could feel an electric current going through me, as if our bodies were meant to connect this way. When our lips parted, I returned my head to his chest, holding on to him even tighter as I savored our first kiss.
    When the music changed back to a more up-tempo beat, Michael leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “Hey, you wanna get out of here? Go for a drive?” The feeling of his breath against my neck sent a shiver of arousal between my legs.
    I looked around for Kenya, who was nowhere to be found. I’d be violating every rule in the girlfriend handbook if I left without telling her first, but knowing her, she was probably off with some guy in the bathroom or something. Technically, she had left me first, I reasoned. I was not about to miss the opportunity to spend time with Michael just because I couldn’t find Kenya’s ass. I was really feeling a connection to him, and if that first kiss was any indication of what was to come, this guy had the skills to make me forget all about my ex.
    “Yeah, I’d love to go for a ride with you,” I said with a smile.
    He wasted no time leading me out of the club, holding the door open like a perfect gentleman. At his car, a beautiful Porsche 911, he rushed over to the passenger-side door and helped me in. I slid into the leather seat thinking, Damn, I could get used to this .
    Before we pulled away from the curb, he leaned over and kissed me again. To be very frank, it was that kiss that convinced me I wanted to sleep with him, and I think he knew it.
    We drove around for a while, listening to music and holding hands. There was very little conversation, but I didn’t mind. After the banging bass in the club, it was a nice break.
    After a while he said, “Do you smoke weed? I’ve got some really good hydro back at my place. You wanna go back there and smoke?”
    I laughed, but not because he asked if I smoked weed. I wasn’t a big pot smoker, but I had been known to indulge from time to time. I was laughing because it was a pretty slick-ass way of getting me to his apartment.
    “Sure.” I turned my head toward his so