ANightatTheCavern (2 page)

Jorges watched the caterpillar in his arms turn into a
gorgeous butterfly and laughed with delight. Miranda was unexpected in so many
ways. When Amaryllis had pointed out the nondescript woman earlier, he had only
seen a girl who was so out of her element, her plainness had actually drawn
attention. But his friend had seen right to the heart of Miranda to what Jorges
had been too dense to notice, and that was a woman who had not been given the
opportunity to shine.

“Every woman deserves to feel beautiful, Jorges,” Amaryllis
had said.

Being beautiful and feeling beautiful were entirely
different entities, which he was now beginning to understand. He designed a
nightclub where sex was enjoyed however and whenever a person wanted, so he had
grown accustomed to women who reveled in the power they wielded with their
sexuality, and even those who didn’t learned pretty fast. With a face and body
like his, he was used to receiving flirtatious glances and sexy banter, and
Miranda had behaved exactly the opposite.

She hadn’t played coy, leaving it to him to decide to be the
aggressor or the prey, and she was herself, honest and beautiful. His curiosity
about her had grown as they stepped onto the dance floor and her posture
stiffened. Her movements jerked unnaturally as he saw self-doubt flitter
through her mind in her wide eyes. But now that she let go of the fears that
held her in check, she glowed from within like a thousand candles igniting at
once.

Her brown eyes sparkled as her full, pouty lips parted with
her lyrical laughter. She lifted her arms and her head tipped back, the soft
length of her dark hair caressing his hands where they rested low on her spine.
Dance steps that were once timid liquefied as she rolled her hips and swayed
with the beat. She moved in a smooth mambo rhythm and when he led her into a
tight box step, she followed as if they’d been dance partners for years.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured in her ear so he could be
heard over the music. “I knew this vixen was hiding in you somewhere.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jorges pressed his planes into her curves and cupped her
hips with his hands. She had a full, hourglass shape that was so very feminine
yet strong at the same time. A warm current of arousal ran down his spine and
settled in his groin. A sensual reaction he couldn’t remember the last time he
experienced, if at all, in his life. Usually when he spotted a woman he was
attracted to, lust would strike fast and he’d be hard as a baseball bat, immediately
ready for action. But this was different. The sensation was effervescent, like
sitting in a Jacuzzi with a jet of water stroking gentle bubbles along every
erogenous zone. The feeling was so…pleasant. Such a pedestrian word, but true.

There was no doubt in his mind that before the night was
out, the two of them were going to bring the roof down together, but he was in
no rush. This slow simmer was an aphrodisiac of its own, which whetted his
appetite for the lovely Miranda all the more.

A hard hand clapped him on the shoulder. “Jorges, my man.”

“Ryan,” he greeted the newcomer who stepped around them to
spoon behind Miranda.

“Who’s your friend?” He flashed Miranda a wolfish grin and
matched the sway of his lean body to the smooth rhythm of their dance.

On any other night, Ryan’s presence would have added an
extra element of excitement to the possibilities of the evening. The former
bull rider liked to manage his women like he had his cattle. Add in his wicked
imagination and you had some of the craziest nights Jorges had ever had. But
this time annoyance tightened over his brow as he watched the cowboy sweep
aside Miranda’s hair to drop a kiss on her shoulder.

“Damn, girl, you’re a luscious handful,” Jorge heard Ryan
say over the booming music. “Is my boy here showing you a good time?”

Miranda licked her lips and nodded. Her steps lost a bit of
their fluidity as Ryan gripped her by the hips and ground his groin into her
backside.

“If you give us a chance, we could give you the night of
your life, sweet thing.”

She jumped when he nipped at her lobe, and Jorges monitored
her reaction carefully. How far could he push her this night? Would she run
from the idea of engaging in the forbidden or would she embrace the dark half
of her desires?

Blood and fire raced to his cock as Miranda melted in his
arms. The hard points of her nipples pressed against his chest and her lips
parted on a ragged breath. Her nails bit into his shoulders as she looked up at
him with those big, dark eyes that softened with sensuality. She licked her
lips again and swiveled her hips, teasing their cocks with the softness of her
curves.

Jorges bent his knees and rocked against her belly. He
wanted to see her trapped between them, naked and panting as both men rode her
to the edge of pleasure and dropped her over the edge.

But not tonight.

No, this evening he wanted her all to himself. He had a
sixth sense that she had given herself permission to behave out of the ordinary
while inside the club. She was going to cross boundaries she never thought
existed, and he wanted to be the one to set her spirit free.

“Not tonight, Ry. She’s all mine.”

“Are you serious, man?”

He answered by cupping her hips and pulling her away from
the handsome cowboy.

“Let me know if you change your mind.” Ryan parted with a
kiss to her cheek. “Catch you later, sweetness.”

Miranda trembled in his arms. Her gaze was fixed on his
Adam’s apple and she measured her breathing as if she were pacing herself
during a 5K run.

“I’m sorry if he upset you.”

“H-he didn’t.” She peeked up at him with a quivering smile
then glanced back down.

The delightful scrape of her hardened nipples against his
chest intrigued him. “Did you want him to stay?”

“Only if you did.” She bit her lip then said, “It sounded as
if you two share…dance…partners often.”

The subtle innuendo in her observation made him smile and
his cock twitch. “On occasion.”

Her breath whooshed out and she stumbled. He was about to
probe her interest further when the music changed to a throbbing hip-hop number
with a booming bass line and guttural shouts, which made it difficult to hear
his own thoughts, let alone ask her any questions.

Taking her hand, he gestured to his ears and mouthed the
word “loud” before motioning for her to follow. He led her through the crush of
bodies and up the sweeping staircase to where he didn’t have to compete for her
attention.

The cove was designed for patrons to enjoy the music of the
dance floor but in a more private setting, which allowed for intimate
conversations. Swaths of silk in reds and browns hung from the ceiling in
tracks that could be maneuvered around to create even more seclusion. Curved
couches in soft tan suede resembled the dips of a woman’s body and were just as
luscious to sit upon.

He chose a quieter spot in the corner and held up a bottle
he pulled from an ice chest near the couch. “Water?”

“Yes, thank you.” She pressed the cool bottle to her
cleavage.

“Please, sit.”

“Okay.” She perched on the edge of the seat at the farthest
end of the couch from him.

He bit the inside of his cheek and scooted a few inches
closer while Miranda read the label on the bottle as if it held all of life’s
secrets. He stretched his arm along the back of the couch, sweeping her hair
off her shoulder with the motion.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“What? No, uh…” The plastic crunched in her grip as she
brought the bottle to her lips and drank. And drank. And drank. When she
lowered the bottle she nodded. “Yes. Yes, you do. Frankly, you terrify me.”

“In a good way or bad?”

“Both.”

“What can I do to put you at ease?”

“Not be so good-looking? Seriously, I don’t think we’re even
from the same species.” In the low light he saw a flush bloom up her neck to
kiss her cheeks. “And I’m babbling. Sorry. I just don’t meet men like you every
day. If ever,” she finished under her breath.

The compliment stroked his ego, and while he was dying to
know what kind of man she thought he was, he refused to ask. This night was
about her, not collecting compliments about himself. “I don’t meet women like
you very often either.”

“You mean like socially inept?”

He laughed. “I mean genuine. And your smile is amazing, and
the way you dance, you’re so sensual. I want to fill my hands with you and feel
you move against my body.”

“Wow.” She sighed and blinked at him with wide eyes. “That’s
quite a line.”

“It’s not a line. If I didn’t think you’d jump out of your
skin, I’d take your hand and prove how much you affect me.”

Her gaze shot down to his lap, where he didn’t bother to
hide his growing erection, then skidded to the side. She brought the bottle
back to her mouth and guzzled ’til empty.

Damn, she was adorable when flustered. Perhaps a change of
subject was in order to help her relax. “Tell me, Miranda, what brought you to
the club tonight?”

The question was asked to put her at ease, but appeared to
have the opposite effect as her posture shot up straighter and her eyes stayed
downcast as she picked at a nonexistent spot on her short skirt.

“I lost a bet,” she finally admitted in a voice so small, he
was only able to hear her because he was focused on her full lips.

“And coming here was some sort of punishment?”

“No.” She laughed, then shrugged. “More like a kick in the
ass. See, my friend Roxanne has this amazing voice and for years I’ve been
trying to get her to audition for one of those television talent shows. We work
for the same event supply company, you know, where you can rent tables and
dishes and linens and stuff, and every time we do a big event, I mention how
unexciting my life is. So, Roxanne proposed a bet. Highest sales of the quarter
won. If I won, she had to go to the next audition. If she won, I had to come
here for some excitement. I lost by nine dollars and eighty-two cents.”

He inched closer and fingered a lock of her hair. “Do you
still think you lost?”

The tops of her breasts shimmied with her stuttered breath
and the smoldering gaze she sent him through her lashes had his muscles
tightening. With her slightest provocation his body was ready to leap upon her
and take what her pouty lips promised.

“Jury’s still out,” she whispered then swept her tongue
across her lower lip.

If she had been any other woman who came into the club, he’d
have thought this sultry innocent act was fake, however, the way her knee
bounced and how she trembled as if she’d taken a hit of pure caffeine made him
see her for what she really was—a woman who didn’t believe in her own power.
Whoever instilled in her such low self-esteem needed to be beaten repeatedly,
and he’d be happy to apply the whip. Fortunately, he found her before any
damage became irreversible. By the time the sun rose, he’d make sure Miranda
never doubted her power again.

“So, you’re a designer?” she asked, breaking into his
thoughts of vengeance on her behalf.

“Yep. I specialize in nightclubs and restaurants. I’ve been
fortunate enough to have worked with some of the premier restaurateurs in the
world.”

“Do you have a favorite location? Or is each one like a
child? Too difficult to pick.”

“I have a few, for different reasons. But truthfully, this
one here is my favorite. I worked with the owner, Amaryllis, before on her
restaurant, Tutala. Have you heard of it?”

“Of course I have. My company has worked with her before on
special events. It’s how I heard about The Cavern. You designed Tutala? It’s
gorgeous. So romantic and elegant. Wow. I would have never guessed it was
designed by the same person. It’s so much different here. No, I mean—” Streaks
of red bloomed on her cheeks. “Not bad different, just different.”

He put his arm around her shoulder and inched closer. “I
understand what you mean. Amaryllis gave me free rein to make her dream of the
ultimate adult playground a reality, which allowed me to put more of my own
personality into the design. At a time when I was getting bored with my work,
that freedom was exactly what I needed to become inspired again. Amaryllis is
good at that, getting people what they need.

“Oh.” She shifted away. “Is she your girlfriend? You sound
like you’re close.”

“Amaryllis? No, she’s—” Uh, hmm. How to define their
relationship? Since they did hit the sheets on occasion, familial sounded too
incestuous. But friends was not adequate enough. “I guess you can say she’s a
friend with benefits.”

Miranda nodded. “I can see how you may have a few of those.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded. It’s just that you must
meet a ton of women here, and I’m sure you have favorites and—oh God, just
shoot me now.” She dropped her face into her hands.

“No, no. Don’t worry about it,” he said, even though the
innocent remark struck him like a left jab to the gut.

How could he be offended when in his heart he knew she was
right? His relationships ran more toward the “for a good time call” than
anything remotely resembling a commitment. He was young, single and willing,
eager to sample from the buffet of women who frequented the club. There was no
shame in tasting from life’s banquet, but having it acknowledged in Miranda’s
voice unsettled him more than he thought possible.

What was is about her that made her opinion matter so much?
Was it her wholesomeness he found fascinating? The girl next door with a hint
of rebel that ensnared his interest? She was like gourmet comfort food. Simple.
Classic. A meal you craved because it satisfied and made you feel secure like a
good hug.

Firecrackers were spectacular and brilliant, but also
fizzled quickly. A steady flame was constant beauty, welcoming and warm.
Perhaps that was why he was so drawn to her. Perhaps his soul was cold and
languishing, in need of some of her heat, if only for the night.