Bayou Born (Fleur de Lis Series) (33 page)
She kissed him back, pressing her body against his. “Dr. Newbern, I have a different kind of dancing in mind. All you need to do is follow my lead.”
Chapter 35
Leading James by the hand, Branna flipped the switch on the CD player, and a soulful saxophone crooned. Candles flickered as she lit each one. Soft shadows danced on the walls. She’d never played seduction and surrender before.
James pulled her close. He kissed her forehead, nose and chin, before pressing his lips to hers. Desire made her flush. Love made her heart pound. Light headed and giddy, she wrapped her arms around his neck. When she laid her head on his shoulder, they swayed together, their bodies moving as one.
“Lovers?” James whispered near her ear.
“Hmm?”
“You told Steven we were lovers.”
“Yes. Yes, I did. I was going for shock effect, but it has the added benefit of being true.”
“I see.” His lopsided grin made her want to kiss him.
Not willing to break contact, she ran her hands down his chest and rested them on the sides of his waist. “What do you see?” She continued to sway in time to the music with him.
“Were you trying to shock him or me?”
She giggled. “Maybe both?”
“You have a streak of audaciousness, Miss Lind.”
“Now,
that
Dr. Newbern is certainly a professorial word. It is the kind of word that someone of your “type” would use.” She leaned in and teased the corner of his mouth with her tongue, then sucked on his bottom lip. “I love smart men.”
“Not a word that a redneck farmer might use.”
“No, probably not.”
“I have something to tell you Miss Lind, but before that declaration, I have a confession to make.”
“This sounds way too serious. I’m liking the mood just as it is.”
“Maybe I can find a way to make you like it better.”
Was he turning the tables on her? Fast-forwarding her plan? Maybe so. If they delayed, the heat between them might burn them up. If confession was what it took to seduce him to surrender, she’d take that risk.
“Maybe we should move this conversation to a more intimate place?” She wanted him in bed, but visualized her room. That view would not induce romance under any circumstance. It looked like thieves had tossed it. It would take more than one grand sweep of an arm to rid the bed of clothes. Cleaning up was a guaranteed mood killer.
Seduction wasn’t going as planned. But desire would not be ignored. She needed a plan B.
When James stepped back, he raised her hand, then gently pushed her away. She twirled, following his lead. When they were pressed body to body again, he placed one warm hand at the back of her neck, his other hand rested on her butt, leaving an imprint of heat.
She ground her pelvis into him and rocked her hips side to side. Tension rose like hot steam building in her body. Soon it would need release. Yet, she wanted to savor every moment of her journey of her seduction of James.
“Are you falling for me because I got shot?”
“You presume much, professor. However, a slight correction. Not falling,” she murmured. When she realized her confession, she stumbled over his feet.
Fallen
was the correct word. She missed another step and brought the heel of her Manolo Blahnik’s down on his toes. Trying to remove the implanted shoe from his foot, she almost lost her balance.
He caught her around the waist, winced, but made no sound.
“I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t have been more embarrassed. Crushed toes were ice water on seduction.
Without a word, James picked her up and carried her to the couch. He deposited her in the middle, then bent in front of her on one knee.
Her stomach jumped to her throat. What was he doing?
He reached down and liberated her feet from her shoes. She let go of a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.
His hands created a warm friction as he massaged her foot, then he continued the strokes up her calf and rubbed in small circles on the sides of her legs. She relaxed. If death came in that moment, she’d die with delight. The warmth of his hands on her skin made her tingle in all the right places. Her breath caught in her throat when he stroked the inside of her thighs with light feathery touches. She leaned back and closed her eyes, feeling the heat rise. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she anticipated what would come and thought she might die if he didn’t make love to her soon.
When the cushions on the couch moved, she opened her eyes to see him rise. He pulled her to standing, and then took the place she had just occupied. His grin was all the invitation she needed to straddle his lap. The hem of her dress rose to her hips as her knees spread, and her thighs settled onto his.
“This is fair warning,” James said. “This is your only opportunity to say, no.”
“Yes,” she purred. Neither propriety nor anything else would keep her from the man she loved. She lifted to her knees and pulled her dress over her head, then tossed it to the floor. Planting her lips on his, she kissed him hard.
She reached for the buttons on his shirt, with trembling fingers released each button from its hole.
“Yes, I want you. Yes, I want to make love. Yes to you, James Newbern.” After the last button, she shoved his shirt off his shoulder and nipped at it. She wanted to brand him so everyone would know. She. Loved. Him.
In a blink, his hands grasped her butt. He rose, taking her with him. As she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, he tossed the couch pillows onto the floor. Gently he laid her down, then slid out of his pants. His desire was visible, there was no room for doubt.
When he came to her, his weight against her body made her feel safe and desirable. The time for seduction had passed. She moved into total surrender.
His slow removal of her lace panties put her in agony. She lifted her hips to capture his hardness. Tenderly, he touched her.
They connected into a perfect fit.
The heat and fullness of him inside her was wondrous. They moved rhythmically with the music, in total harmony with each other. Tension curled. Hot and strong. She arched to meet him, grinding against him. She moaned.
“Let go, lover. Let go.” His warm breath against her ear produced delightful shivers.
Her pelvis rose. She pressed against him harder.
Harder.
Sensations coursed through her.
She squeezed tight, her body taunt, then reached the pinnacle.
Flashes of light and color danced before her eyes. Pleasure flooded in waves. James’ body followed her same path. His growling shudder thrilled her. His long, slow moan added delight to her intense satisfaction.
Many minutes passed before the pounding of her heart settled to a regular rhythm.
Later, wrapped in sheets and lounging on pillows on the floor, lying beside James, she traced a line down his jaw. His stubble tickled the pad of her finger. She loved the firmness of his masculine face.
“Branna?” James asked.
“Hmm.” The shape of his mouth distracted her.
“I love you.”
She blinked. Looked into his eyes. Her mouth formed the words, I love you, too, but she was unable to speak as a flush of warmth crept from her chest to her cheeks. The words she’d waited for to hear from a man who said them honestly and with desire, rendered her speechless.
James propped on his elbow beside her. He traced her lips, then ran a line from her chin, down her throat to the middle of her stomach. “Confession time. I know what type you really are.”
“A lot of words come to mind—”
“You know the guy in the battered pickup you asked me about at the Westcott’s party? The guy you met at the Victorian with Meredith?”
Branna opened her eyes wide. Alarmed, she said, “I never told you anything about meeting that guy.”
“The redneck farmer you barely spoke to.”
“My not talking had nothing to do with—”
“That was the first time I mistakenly labeled you.”
“You? You bought the place? Why didn’t you say so?”
“Because I stupidly pigeonholed you the ‘beautiful type.’”
“Are you saying I’m no longer beautiful?” she teased.
“Not at all. You’re bright, beautiful, and sexy. Brave, too. It took courage to go against your family’s wishes and move here, and you did it to protect them.”
James’ lips met hers with gentle pressure.
She deepened the kiss, holding him close.
“So tell me, Dr. Newbern, in your expert opinion, what type
am
I?” Trepidation fluttered in her heart. Did he love her as much as she loved him? He said she was bright, beautiful, and sexy. Could they lay the “type” issue to rest?
She waited patiently for his response.
“You’re totally ‘my type,’ and I’m going to prove it to you every day. Starting again right now.”
His kiss was a good first start.
A word about the author...
Linda Joyce is an award-winning writer who loves words. Growing up, she moved frequently courtesy of the U.S. Air Force, and books became her constant friend. Linda was born in Biloxi, Mississippi on Christmas Eve to an Irish/Cajun father from New Orleans and a Japanese mother.
Linda and her husband, Don, a fifth-generation Floridian, now live in Atlanta with their four-legged boys, General Beauregard, Gentleman Jack, and Masterpiece Renoir. Linda shares with Don a love of college football, boiled peanuts, seafood, and grits with eggs.
Please visit her at her website:
or her blog:
LindaJoyceContemplates: www.lindajoycecontemplates.wordpress.com
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