Hold Me
Page 36
She ignored it all. She could nearly taste her escape. Only a few feet more.
By the time she pushed against the door in the rear room, she was shaking. The door gave easily, and she stumbled out into the dark night. Music still played, but it was muffled. Her head spun, probably from both the drinks and the singing.
She shouldn’t have done it, she told herself. She shouldn’t have given in. But while mostly she could ignore that part of herself, every now and then she was unable to resist. Her mother would tell her that biology was inescapable. That if Destiny simply gave in to the inevitable, her life would be a lot easier.
The door opened, and Kipling joined her.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded without speaking. Breathing was still difficult, and words would be impossible.
He looked at her. “You surprised the hell out of a lot of people tonight.”
“That’s one way to put it.” She drew in a deep breath, pleased the words had returned. “I didn’t mean to do it. Sing. I should have said no.”
“You have a beautiful voice.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So much for keeping a secret.”
She felt her lips twitch. Then she was smiling. A small giggle escaped. “Word will get out.”
“Want to come back in and sing another song?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
He took a step toward her. His gaze was intense, and she felt a pull nearly as strong as the one that had propelled her onto the stage. Only this time, the message was to stay put rather than to move.
When Kipling put his arms around her, she was glad she’d listened, and when he drew her against him, she went willingly.
Maybe it was the singing or the night, but for some reason, she needed to be in his arms. She needed to know what it felt like to absorb the warmth and strength of him.
“Destiny.”
He only said her name. Just once. Softly. Then he pressed his mouth against hers in a kiss that both comforted and challenged.
She melted against him, letting him support her weight even as she moved her lips against his. Usually, she was a pretty passive kisser, but not tonight. Tonight she wanted to know what kissing him felt like. She wanted to explore the man and the unexpected tension and heat building inside her.
She rested her hands on his broad shoulders and felt the pressure of her breasts flattened against his chest. She breathed in the scent of him, and when he touched her lower lip with his tongue, she parted immediately.
He swept inside, taking control from her. But the electricity that followed made it worth the shift. Delicious tingles vibrated through her. She ached, she squirmed, she needed. When his tongue stroked against hers, she returned the attention in kind. When he drew back, she followed.
They kissed over and over again. He shifted his hands to her hips and then down to her rear. He squeezed the curves, and she instinctively arched against him.
Her lower body felt heavy. Her breasts hurt. The deep ache made her want to place his hands there. Because somehow his touching her would make everything better.
The thought should have shocked her, but all she could think was how much she wanted the kissing to never stop and how good it would feel to have his fingers on her tight nipples.
The back door banged open. Destiny was aware of laughter then a quick, “Sorry, man.” The door slammed shut.
Kipling stepped back and cleared his throat. “I should, ah, get you home.”
Destiny sucked in air. Her head cleared a little and she knew that tonight she’d done more than sing one of her mother’s songs. She’d also flirted with her mother’s lifestyle, and she knew better.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, pleased she could speak in actual sentences. “It’s opening night. You should stay here. I’m walking. It’s Fool’s Gold, and I’ll be fine.”
He hesitated. She gave him a little push toward the bar. “I promise, it’s all good. I’ll text you when I get home.”
“If I don’t hear from you in twenty minutes, I’m coming after you.”
A tempting reason to not text, she thought as she waved and started toward the sidewalk.
Seventeen minutes later, she was in her bedroom and sending the text that would allow Kipling to forget about her for the night.
It was late, and Starr was already asleep, but Destiny couldn’t relax. Her body still ached for the man who had kissed her, and her mind swirled with words and images. Not knowing what else to do, she pulled out her guitar and the notebook full of half-written songs. She flipped through it until she found one that made sense to her, then started to play.
You spoke to me, in careful tones. Your words were like a beacon, I was looking for a home.
She made a few notes and started the song from the beginning. As she played, she relived Kipling’s kiss over and over until it was etched into her brain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DESTINY HESITATED OUTSIDE Jo’s Bar. It wasn’t the hangover that was slowing her down. Although she’d awakened with a headache and the need to drink about a gallon of water, that had all passed. No, what stopped her at the door was old-fashioned embarrassment.
She fully remembered what had happened the previous night. All of it. And while her date with Kipling had gone way better than she’d expected, and she’d been blown away by the kiss they’d shared, what she couldn’t get out of her mind was the rest of it. How she’d stepped onstage and sung her mother’s song.
By the time she pushed against the door in the rear room, she was shaking. The door gave easily, and she stumbled out into the dark night. Music still played, but it was muffled. Her head spun, probably from both the drinks and the singing.
She shouldn’t have done it, she told herself. She shouldn’t have given in. But while mostly she could ignore that part of herself, every now and then she was unable to resist. Her mother would tell her that biology was inescapable. That if Destiny simply gave in to the inevitable, her life would be a lot easier.
The door opened, and Kipling joined her.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded without speaking. Breathing was still difficult, and words would be impossible.
He looked at her. “You surprised the hell out of a lot of people tonight.”
“That’s one way to put it.” She drew in a deep breath, pleased the words had returned. “I didn’t mean to do it. Sing. I should have said no.”
“You have a beautiful voice.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So much for keeping a secret.”
She felt her lips twitch. Then she was smiling. A small giggle escaped. “Word will get out.”
“Want to come back in and sing another song?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
He took a step toward her. His gaze was intense, and she felt a pull nearly as strong as the one that had propelled her onto the stage. Only this time, the message was to stay put rather than to move.
When Kipling put his arms around her, she was glad she’d listened, and when he drew her against him, she went willingly.
Maybe it was the singing or the night, but for some reason, she needed to be in his arms. She needed to know what it felt like to absorb the warmth and strength of him.
“Destiny.”
He only said her name. Just once. Softly. Then he pressed his mouth against hers in a kiss that both comforted and challenged.
She melted against him, letting him support her weight even as she moved her lips against his. Usually, she was a pretty passive kisser, but not tonight. Tonight she wanted to know what kissing him felt like. She wanted to explore the man and the unexpected tension and heat building inside her.
She rested her hands on his broad shoulders and felt the pressure of her breasts flattened against his chest. She breathed in the scent of him, and when he touched her lower lip with his tongue, she parted immediately.
He swept inside, taking control from her. But the electricity that followed made it worth the shift. Delicious tingles vibrated through her. She ached, she squirmed, she needed. When his tongue stroked against hers, she returned the attention in kind. When he drew back, she followed.
They kissed over and over again. He shifted his hands to her hips and then down to her rear. He squeezed the curves, and she instinctively arched against him.
Her lower body felt heavy. Her breasts hurt. The deep ache made her want to place his hands there. Because somehow his touching her would make everything better.
The thought should have shocked her, but all she could think was how much she wanted the kissing to never stop and how good it would feel to have his fingers on her tight nipples.
The back door banged open. Destiny was aware of laughter then a quick, “Sorry, man.” The door slammed shut.
Kipling stepped back and cleared his throat. “I should, ah, get you home.”
Destiny sucked in air. Her head cleared a little and she knew that tonight she’d done more than sing one of her mother’s songs. She’d also flirted with her mother’s lifestyle, and she knew better.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, pleased she could speak in actual sentences. “It’s opening night. You should stay here. I’m walking. It’s Fool’s Gold, and I’ll be fine.”
He hesitated. She gave him a little push toward the bar. “I promise, it’s all good. I’ll text you when I get home.”
“If I don’t hear from you in twenty minutes, I’m coming after you.”
A tempting reason to not text, she thought as she waved and started toward the sidewalk.
Seventeen minutes later, she was in her bedroom and sending the text that would allow Kipling to forget about her for the night.
It was late, and Starr was already asleep, but Destiny couldn’t relax. Her body still ached for the man who had kissed her, and her mind swirled with words and images. Not knowing what else to do, she pulled out her guitar and the notebook full of half-written songs. She flipped through it until she found one that made sense to her, then started to play.
You spoke to me, in careful tones. Your words were like a beacon, I was looking for a home.
She made a few notes and started the song from the beginning. As she played, she relived Kipling’s kiss over and over until it was etched into her brain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DESTINY HESITATED OUTSIDE Jo’s Bar. It wasn’t the hangover that was slowing her down. Although she’d awakened with a headache and the need to drink about a gallon of water, that had all passed. No, what stopped her at the door was old-fashioned embarrassment.
She fully remembered what had happened the previous night. All of it. And while her date with Kipling had gone way better than she’d expected, and she’d been blown away by the kiss they’d shared, what she couldn’t get out of her mind was the rest of it. How she’d stepped onstage and sung her mother’s song.
