Thunder In Her Body Read Online Free PDF

rose reluctantly.  Holding her hand, he guided her past dozens of couples, deep into the dance floor as if to protect her from judgmental eyes.  When he put his left hand up, she slipped her right into his but it was his right hand that caused a shiver to move down her spine.  It was so warm; it felt almost like a tentacled heating pad as he spread his fingers wide.  He stood motionless until she positioned herself uneasily in his hold, then he moved ever so slowly, guiding her body into motion.  The first few steps were awkward, and she apologized.
    “I haven’t danced in a man’s arms in over five years.  I’m pretty rusty,” she said.
    “It’s Ok,” he assured her, “just relax and let me do the work,” he spoke softly.  His words were reassuring and somehow made her feel that her awkwardness would not be exposed as long as she was in his grasp.
    They began to move rhythmically to the strong sounds of the steel guitar and Lynette found that he was easy to follow.  He guided her in small, slow circles, then in a back and forth motion, almost like a waltz.  She was doing it – dancing western style.  She’d watched others do it over the years, but hadn’t been asked herself.  Concentrating on the technique, she was careful to avoid his feet.  It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed this art.  She let herself relax in his arms and he instinctively pulled her just a tiny bit closer to him.
                  “That’s better,” he said softly.
     
    With the smoke oppressively thick in the club, at least for her, she pressed her nose downward and against his chest, trying to draw a breath of unpolluted air.  What she got was the smell of freshly laundered cotton and a warm manly smell of soap beneath his shirt.  She drew in another deep breath and recognized the faintest aroma of a good man’s cologne.  Aramis, she thought it was Aramis, but it had been so long, she wasn’t sure.  He might have mistaken her purpose for burying her face in his chest, but he surely felt her inhaling him.  She lifted her head back up.  He was looking down at her with a smile.  She smiled back demurely and laid her head against his solid chest.
     
    “Thought you couldn’t dance,” Aaron’s voice came out of the darkened and smoky room, as he and Clare glided by.  Lynette looked up, a bit sheepishly, and grinned back at him.  When the record was over, Blaze loosened his grip but didn’t completely let her go.
    “Let’s see what the next one is,” he said.
    They stood for just a second and then booming from the DJ’s speakers came the pounding drum beat of Country Charley Pride’s Kaw-Liga .
                  “Shall we,” Blaze asked, as he stepped back and bowed in a mock-chivalrous manner. “We Indians dance well to the drum beat,” he laughed unabashedly.
    “I hope those boots have steel toes,” Lynette replied, shaking her head in amusement.  And so they were off.  The quick two-step which once was foreign to her, came with a limited amount of ease and Blaze didn’t have to lead much.  She was in step and responded in sync with his every move.
    “I swear, I want to holler Yeee haaa,” she exclaimed after awhile, her head tilted up at him. It was a crazy, impetuous thing to do; something she certainly wouldn’t have done with her more conservative, multi-cultural, urbane friends.  For some minorities, particularly in the south and rural areas, that sound struck fear in their stomachs.  But the wild side of her was on the loose, and right now, she didn’t care what it sounded like.  It just felt like something she wanted to do.
    “So do it,” he said, looking down at her in a charming and accepting way.
    She threw her head back, grinning, and shouted, “Yeee Haaa,” but in a really subdued way.  She didn’t want to sound like one of those hillbillies about to jump out of a pick-up ready to shoot something!
    “This is so much fun.  I thought I’d